Original
Modern English
So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
So you think you’ll be pardoned by Lord Angelo?
The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I’ve hope to live, and am prepared to die.
The miserable have nothing but hope To rely on: I hope to live, but I’m ready to die.
Be absolute for death; either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences, That dost this habitation, where thou keep’st, Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death’s fool; For him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun And yet runn’st toward him still. Thou art not noble; For all the accommodations that thou bear’st Are nursed by baseness. Thou’rt by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear’st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exist’st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. If thou art rich, thou’rt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear’s thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even.
Be sure about death; either death or life Will make one feel better. Think about life this way: If I lose you, I’m losing something That only a fool would keep: you’re just a breath, Controlled by all the forces in the sky, That make your life here miserable, Constantly tormenting you: really, you’re a fool of death; You’re trying to escape him by running from him, But you’re still running straight toward him. You’re not noble; All the things you carry with you Are supported by weakness. You’re not brave; You fear even the soft, tender touch Of a poor worm. The best rest you get is sleep, And even then you provoke it, but you still greatly fear Your death, which is inevitable. You’re not yourself; You exist because of thousands of tiny grains That come from dust. You’re not happy; You always strive to get what you don’t have, And forget what you already have. You’re not certain; Your mood changes with the phases of the moon. If you’re rich, you’re still poor; Like a donkey loaded down with gold, You carry your wealth only for a short while, And death will unload it from you. You have no true friends; Even your own children, who call you father, The product of your own body, Curse the disease that doesn’t end your life sooner. You have neither youth nor old age, But live like someone who’s just had a big meal, Dreaming of both; for all your youthful vigor Will eventually beg for the charity Of old age; and when you’re old and rich, You’ll have no warmth, love, strength, or beauty To enjoy your wealth. What’s left in life That’s worth living for? Yet in this life There are thousands of ways to die: still, we fear death, Which makes everything else seem equal.
I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
I sincerely thank you. In trying to live, I find I’m seeking death; And, in seeking death, I find life: let it come.
[Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!
[Within] What’s going on? Quiet down; good grace and good company!
Who’s there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.
Who’s there? Come in: your wish deserves a warm welcome.
Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.
My good man, I’ll visit you again soon.
Most holy sir, I thank you.
Most holy sir, thank you.
My business is a word or two with Claudio.
I need to speak with Claudio for a moment.
And very welcome. Look, signior, here’s your sister.
And you’re very welcome. Look, sir, here’s your sister.
Provost, a word with you.
Provost, I need to speak with you for a moment.
As many as you please.
As many moments as you need.
Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.
Take me to hear them speak, where I can stay hidden.
Now, sister, what’s the comfort?
Now, sister, what’s the news?
Why, As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: Therefore your best appointment make with speed; To-morrow you set on.
Well, As all good news are; it’s really good, very good. Lord Angelo, who has matters to handle with heaven, Wants you to be his quick messenger, And you will be there forever: So make your preparations fast; Tomorrow you leave.
Is there no remedy?
Is there no way out?
None, but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain.
No, the only way out is, to save your head, To break a heart in two.
But is there any?
But is there no other way?
Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you’ll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death.
Yes, brother, you can live: There is a kind of cruel mercy in the judge, If you beg for it, that will save your life, But chain you up until you die.
Perpetual durance?
For all eternity?
Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world’s vastidity you had, To a determined scope.
Yes, exactly; for all eternity, locked up, Even if you had the whole world, You’d be confined to one small area.
But in what nature?
But in what kind of way?
In such a one as, you consenting to’t, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.
In a way that, if you agree to it, It would tear your honor away from you, And leave you vulnerable.
Let me know the point.
Tell me the full story.
O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Oh, I fear for you, Claudio; and I tremble, Because you might choose to live a miserable life, And value a few more years of life Over lasting honor. Would you dare to die? The fear of death is worse than death itself; And the poor beetle, that we step on, Feels a pain as intense As when a giant dies.
Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms.
Why are you shaming me like this? Do you think I can make a decision Based on soft sympathy? If I must die, I’ll face the darkness like a bride, And hold it in my arms.
There spake my brother; there my father’s grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i’ the head and follies doth emmew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell.
There spoke my brother; there my father’s grave Gave a voice. Yes, you must die: You’re too noble to save a life By using cowardly tricks. This outwardly holy deputy, Who has a calm face and slow speech Kills youth in its prime and traps foolishness Like a falcon traps a bird, is still a devil His inner filth, if revealed, would make him A pond as deep as hell.
The prenzie Angelo!
That arrogant Angelo!
O, ’tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned’st body to invest and cover In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio? If I would yield him my virginity, Thou mightst be freed.
Oh, it’s the clever disguise of hell, The worst kind of soul wrapped up In this fancy uniform! Do you think, Claudio? If I gave him my virginity, You might be freed.
O heavens! it cannot be.
Oh heavens! that can’t be.
Yes, he would give’t thee, from this rank offence, So to offend him still. This night’s the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Yes, he would give it to you, to escape this serious sin, And keep on offending him. Tonight is the time That I must do what I hate to even mention, Or else you’ll die tomorrow.
Thou shalt not do’t.
You shall not do it.
O, were it but my life, I’ld throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin.
Oh, if it were just my life, I’d give it up for your freedom As easily as giving away a pin.
Thanks, dear Isabel.
Thanks, dear Isabel.
Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.
Yes. Does he have feelings, That can make him challenge the law, When he wants to break it? Surely, it’s not a sin, Or of the seven deadly sins, it’s the least.
Which is the least?
Which one is the least?
If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fined? O Isabel!
If it were really damnable, and he being so wise, Why would he for such a brief pleasure End up suffering forever? Oh Isabel!
What says my brother?
What does my brother say?
Death is a fearful thing.
Death is a terrifying thing.
And shamed life a hateful.
And a life filled with shame is even worse.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison’d in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling: ’tis too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Yes, but to die, and not know where we go; To lie in cold dirt and rot; To lose this warm body and become A lifeless mass; and the joyful soul To burn in hellish fire, or be trapped In a freezing, ice-cold place; To be trapped in the invisible winds, And blown violently around the earth; Or to be worse than those who Live without law, and are tormented By what they imagine hell might be: it’s too horrible! The most miserable, painful life That old age, sickness, poverty, and prison Can impose on nature is a paradise Compared to the terror of death.
Alas, alas!
Alas, alas!
Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother’s life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue.
Please, sister, let me live: The sin you commit to save a brother’s life, Nature lets you off from it so much That it actually becomes a good thing.
O you beast! O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Is’t not a kind of incest, to take life From thine own sister’s shame? What should I think? Heaven shield my mother play’d my father fair! For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne’er issued from his blood. Take my defiance! Die, perish! Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed: I’ll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee.
Oh, you animal! Oh, unfaithful coward! Oh, dishonest scoundrel! Are you trying to become a man through my wrongdoing? Isn’t it like incest to take life From your own sister’s shame? What am I supposed to think? Heaven protect me that my mother didn’t cheat on my father! Because such a twisted excuse for a man Could never have come from his blood. I defy you! Die, perish! If only my bowing down Could delay your fate, it would go on: I’ll pray a thousand prayers for your death, Not a single word to save you.
Nay, hear me, Isabel.
No, listen to me, Isabella.
O, fie, fie, fie! Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: ’Tis best thou diest quickly.
Oh, shame on you! Your sin isn’t an accident, but a habit. Showing mercy to you would make me a prostitute: It’s better that you die quickly.
O hear me, Isabella!
Oh, hear me, Isabella!
Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
Please, young sister, just one word.
What is your will?
What do you want?
Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit.
If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you soon: The conversation I want to have is for your own good as well.
I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.
I don’t have time to spare; I have to steal time from other things, but I’ll talk to you for a little while.
Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready.
Son, I overheard what you and your sister just said. Angelo never intended to corrupt her; he only tested her virtue to see how she would react. She, being truly honorable, gave him the refusal he was most happy to get. I am Angelo’s confessor, and I know this is true; so prepare yourself for death: don’t fool yourself with false hopes: tomorrow you will die; go down on your knees and get ready.
Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it.
Let me ask my sister for forgiveness. I’m so disgusted with life that I’d beg to be rid of it.
Hold you there: farewell.
Stay right there: goodbye.
Provost, a word with you!
Provost, I need a word with you!
What’s your will, father
What do you want, father?
That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company.
Now that you’re here, you can leave. Let me be alone for a while with the girl: I promise you, by my actions and my appearance, no harm will come to her in my company.
In good time.
Alright then.
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother?
The hand that made you beautiful also made you good: the goodness that is easy to see in beauty makes beauty fade quickly; but grace, being the essence of your look, will keep you always beautiful. The trouble Angelo caused you, I’ve heard about, and unless his weakness has examples for his downfall, I’d be amazed at Angelo. How do you plan to satisfy this deputy and save your brother?
I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.
I’m going to confront him now: I’d rather my brother die by the law than have my son born out of wedlock. But, oh, how wrong the good duke is about Angelo! If ever he returns and I can speak to him, I will try to speak but in vain, or expose Angelo’s actions.
That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.
That won’t be a big problem: however, as things stand now, he will avoid being accused. He only tested you. So listen carefully to my advice: I have a way to help. I believe you can justly do a good deed for a wronged woman; save your brother from the law’s anger; keep your own reputation intact; and perhaps please the absent duke, if he ever returns and hears about this.
Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.
Let me hear more. I’m willing to do whatever seems right according to my conscience.
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea?
Virtue is bold, and goodness is never afraid. Haven’t you heard of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier who died at sea?
I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.
I’ve heard of her, and she had a good reputation.
She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
She was supposed to marry Angelo; they were engaged by oath, and the wedding was planned: but before the wedding could happen, her brother Frederick was shipwrecked, and in that ship, he carried her dowry. But listen to how tragically this affected her: she lost a noble and loving brother, who was always kind to her; with him, she lost her fortune, her marriage-dowry; and with both, she lost her intended husband, Angelo, who seemed so noble.
Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?
Can this be true? Did Angelo really leave her like that?
Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.
He left her crying, and never comforted her; he broke his vows, accusing her of dishonor: in the end, he abandoned her to her grief, which she still suffers for his sake; and he, cold as stone to her tears, is unmoved by them.
What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail?
What a noble act it would be to take this poor girl out of her misery by death! What a corruption in life, that it lets this man live! But how can she escape this fate?
It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
It’s a wound you can easily heal: and the cure will not only save your brother, but will also protect your honor in the process.
Show me how, good father.
Show me how, good father.
This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage, first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course,--and now follows all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?
This young woman still holds on to her first love, even though his unfairness and cruelty should have made her stop loving him. Instead, like something blocking a river’s flow, it has made her love stronger and more uncontrollable. Go to Angelo; obey him in a way that seems reasonable; give him exactly what he asks for, but make sure that your stay with him is short, that the time is quiet and secret, and the place convenient. If all this is agreed to, we can guide this wronged woman to go along with your plan and take your place. If things go as we hope, this could force him to make amends to her. By doing this, your brother will be saved, your honor intact, poor Mariana helped, and the corrupt deputy removed. I will prepare the woman and make her ready for his attempt. If you think this is a good plan, the double benefit will justify the deception. What do you think?
The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
The thought of it already makes me feel at peace, and I trust it will turn out perfectly.
It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke’s: there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.
It depends a lot on how well you manage it. Hurry to Angelo: if he asks you to come to his bed tonight, promise him you’ll satisfy him. I’ll go straight to Saint Luke’s: there, at the isolated farmhouse, lives the sad Mariana. Meet me there; and hurry up with Angelo, so everything can be done quickly.
I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father.
Thank you for this comfort. Farewell, good father.