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Modern English
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself: And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself.
If you keep going like this, you’ll end up hurting yourself: And it’s not smart to just keep feeding your grief Against yourself.
I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, And bid him speak of patience; Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, Bid sorrow wag, cry ’hem!’ when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man: for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words: No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Please, stop giving advice, Which sounds to me as useless As water in a sieve: don’t give me advice; And don’t let anyone comfort me Except someone whose pain matches mine. Bring me a father who loved his child so much, Whose joy for her is as crushed as mine, And tell him to speak of patience; Measure his sorrow by the same size as mine And let it match every sorrow for sorrow, As this for this and that grief for that, In every detail, every part, every form: If someone like that will smile and stroke his beard, And tell sorrow to go away, cry ’hey!’ when he should groan, Patch up grief with sayings, make misfortune drunk With late-night drinking; bring him to me, And I’ll learn patience from him. But there’s no such person: because, brother, people Can give advice and comfort to others’ grief That they themselves don’t feel; but once they taste it, Their advice turns into passion, which before Would offer helpful medicine for anger, Chain up madness with a soft thread, Soothe pain with air and agony with words: No, no; it’s everyone’s job to preach patience To those who are crushed by sorrow, But no one’s virtue or wisdom Can be so patient when they face The same thing themselves. So don’t give me advice: My grief screams louder than any comfort.
Therein do men from children nothing differ.
In this way, men are no different from children.
I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance.
Please, be quiet. I will be human; Because no philosopher yet Could endure toothache patiently, No matter how they wrote like gods Or tried to face fate and suffering.
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; Make those that do offend you suffer too.
But don’t put all the blame on yourself; Make those who hurt you suffer too.
There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Now you speak wisely: yes, I will do that. My heart tells me Hero is being lied about; And Claudio will know it; so will the prince And everyone else who dishonored her.
Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.
Here come the prince and Claudio quickly.
Good den, good den.
Good evening, good evening.
Good day to both of you.
Good day to both of you.
Hear you. my lords,--
Listen, my lords,--
We have some haste, Leonato.
We’re in a hurry, Leonato.
Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord: Are you so hasty now? well, all is one.
In a hurry, my lord! Well, goodbye, my lord: Are you in such a rush now? Well, it doesn’t matter.
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
No, don’t argue with us, good old man.
If he could right himself with quarreling, Some of us would lie low.
If he could settle things by arguing, Some of us would keep quiet.
Who wrongs him?
Who’s hurting him?
Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:-- Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; I fear thee not.
Well, you are hurting me; you deceiver, you: No, don’t put your hand on your sword; I’m not afraid of you.
Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear: In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Well, curse my hand, If it made your old age afraid: Honestly, my hand didn’t mean anything toward my sword.
Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As under privilege of age to brag What I have done being young, or what would do Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me That I am forced to lay my reverence by And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors; O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!
Oh, come on, man; don’t make fun of me: I’m not speaking like a foolish old man, Bragging about what I did when I was young, Or what I would do if I weren’t old. Know this, Claudio, to your face, You’ve wronged my innocent child and me so much That I’m forced to lay aside my respect And, with grey hair and the weight of many years, Challenge you to a duel like a man. I say you’ve lied about my innocent child; Your slander has pierced her heart, And now she lies buried with her ancestors; Oh, in a tomb where no scandal ever rested, Except this one, made by your evil deeds!
My villany?
My evil deeds?
Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.
Yes, Claudio; yes, I say.
You say not right, old man.
You’re not saying it right, old man.
My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practise, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body, if he dares, Despite his fancy swordplay and his active training, His youthful strength and vigor.
Away! I will not have to do with you.
Leave me alone! I won’t deal with you.
Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d my child: If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Can you dismiss me like this? You’ve killed my child: If you kill me, boy, you’ll kill a man.
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: But that’s no matter; let him kill one first; Win me and wear me; let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me: Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
He’ll kill two of us, and real men at that: But that doesn’t matter; let him kill one first; Win me and wear me; let him answer to me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me: Sir boy, I’ll whip you away from your fancy fencing; No, as I’m a gentleman, I will.
Brother,--
Brother,--
Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece; And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue: Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!
Calm down. God knows I loved my niece; And she’s dead, slandered to death by villains, Who would challenge a real man just as easily As I’d grab a snake by its tongue: Boys, fools, show-offs, cowards!
Brother Antony,--
Brother Antony,--
Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,-- Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, Go anticly, show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all.
Stay calm. What, man! I know them, yes, And I know exactly what they’re worth, down to the smallest detail,-- Scrambling, showing off, fashion-obsessed boys, Who lie, cheat, insult, corrupt, and spread rumors, Acting all weird, putting on ugly appearances, And saying half a dozen dangerous things, About how they could hurt their enemies, if they dared; And that’s all.
But, brother Antony,--
But, brother Antony,--
Come, ’tis no matter: Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.
Come on, it doesn’t matter: Don’t get involved; let me handle this.
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death: But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing But what was true and very full of proof.
Gentlemen, we won’t keep you waiting. I’m truly sorry for your daughter’s death: But, I swear, she was accused of nothing But what was true and completely proven.
My lord, my lord,--
My lord, my lord,--
I will not hear you.
I won’t listen to you.
No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.
No? Come on, brother; let’s go! I will be heard.
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
And you will, or some of us will suffer for it.
See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.
Look, look; here comes the man we were looking for.
Now, signior, what news?
So, sir, what’s the news?
Good day, my lord.
Good day, my lord.
Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray.
Welcome, sir: you’ve almost arrived just in time for a fight.
We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.
We almost had our noses broken by two old men with no teeth.
Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.
Leonato and his brother. What do you think? If we had fought, I think we’d have been too young for them.
In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.
In a fake argument, there’s no real bravery. I came to find you both.
We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?
We’ve been all over looking for you; we’re really down and want to shake off this sadness. Will you use your cleverness?
It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?
It’s in my sword holder: should I pull it out?
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Do you keep your cleverness at your side?
Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.
No one does that, though plenty have been close to their cleverness. I’ll tell you to draw, just like we do with musicians; draw, to entertain us.
As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?
As I’m an honest man, he looks pale. Are you sick or just angry?
What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Come on, man! So what if worry killed a cat, you’ve got enough spirit in you to fight off worry.
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.
Sir, I’ll meet your cleverness in the challenge, and you can aim it at me. I beg you, choose a different topic.
Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.
Alright then, give him another stick: this last one broke in half.
By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.
By this light, he changes more and more: I think he’s really angry now.
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
If he is, he knows how to handle it.
Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Should I whisper something in your ear?
God bless me from a challenge!
God keep me from a challenge!
[Aside to CLAUDIO] You are a villain; I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.
[Aside to CLAUDIO] You’re a scoundrel; I’m not joking: I’ll prove it—how, when, and with what courage. Do me right, or I’ll call you a coward. You’ve killed a sweet lady, and her death will haunt you. Let me hear from you.
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.
Fine, I’ll meet you, as long as I get some good food.
What, a feast, a feast?
What, a feast, a feast?
I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s head and a capon; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?
Honestly, I thank him; he’s invited me to a calf’s head and a capon; and if I don’t carve them perfectly, then my knife is useless. Should I also get a woodcock?
Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
Sir, your wit is smooth; it comes easily.
I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: ’True,’ said she, ’a fine little one.’ ’No,’ said I, ’a great wit:’ ’Right,’ says she, ’a great gross one.’ ’Nay,’ said I, ’a good wit:’ ’Just,’ said she, ’it hurts nobody.’ ’Nay,’ said I, ’the gentleman is wise:’ ’Certain,’ said she, ’a wise gentleman.’ ’Nay,’ said I, ’he hath the tongues:’ ’That I believe,’ said she, ’for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.
Let me tell you how Beatrice praised your wit the other day. I said you had a fine wit: ‘True,’ she said, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘a great wit:’ ‘Right,’ she said, ‘a big clumsy one.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘a good wit:’ ‘Exactly,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t hurt anyone.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘the gentleman is wise:’ ‘Certainly,’ she said, ‘a wise gentleman.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘he has the gift of speech:’ ‘I believe that,’ she said, ‘because he swore something to me on Monday night, which he denied on Tuesday morning; that’s a double tongue; that’s two tongues.’ And so for an hour, she reshaped your qualities: but in the end, she sighed and said you were the most handsome man in Italy.
For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.
For which she cried deeply and said she didn’t care.
Yea, that she did: but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man’s daughter told us all.
Yes, she did: but even so, if she didn’t hate him so much, she would love him dearly: the old man’s daughter told us everything.
All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.
Everything, everything; and also, God saw him when he was hiding in the garden.
But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?
But when shall we place the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?
Yea, and text underneath, ’Here dwells Benedick the married man’?
Yes, and a sign underneath, ‘Here lives Benedick the married man’?
Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company: your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and, till then, peace be with him.
Farewell, boy: you know what I think. I’ll leave you now to your gossip-like mood: you crack jokes like braggarts swing their swords, which, thank God, don’t hurt anyone. My lord, I thank you for your many kindnesses: I must leave your company now: your brother, the bastard, has fled from Messina: you’ve among you killed a sweet, innocent lady. As for my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet again: and, until then, peace be with him.
He is in earnest.
He’s serious.
In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.
Very serious; and, I’ll bet you, for the love of Beatrice.
And hath challenged thee.
And he’s challenged you.
Most sincerely.
Most sincerely.
What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!
What a funny thing a man is when he’s dressed in his doublet and hose and leaves his wit behind!
He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.
He’s then a giant compared to an ape; but then, an ape is a doctor compared to such a man.
But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?
But wait, let me think: gather yourself, my heart, and be sad. Didn’t he say my brother ran away?
Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.
Come here, sir: if justice can’t control you, she will never consider any more reasons: no, if you’re a swearing hypocrite once, you’ll always be watched.
How now? two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio one!
What’s this? Two of my brother’s men in chains! Borachio too?
Hearken after their offence, my lord.
Listen to their crime, my lord.
Officers, what offence have these men done?
Officers, what crime have these men committed?
Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
Well, sir, they’ve made false reports; they’ve spoken lies; secondly, they’ve slandered people; sixth and lastly, they’ve lied about a lady; thirdly, they’ve confirmed unjust things; and, to finish, they’re lying scoundrels.
First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
First, I’m asking you what they’ve done; thirdly, I want to know what their crime is; sixth and lastly, why they’ve been arrested; and, to finish, what exactly you’re accusing them of.
Rightly reasoned, and in his own division: and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.
Well reasoned, and in his own terms: and, honestly, there’s one clear meaning.
Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: what’s your offence?
Who have you offended, gentlemen, that you are so bound to answer? This clever constable is too hard to understand: what is your offence?
Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light: who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments, how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.
Sweet prince, let me go no further with my answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I’ve deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdom could not see, these fools have exposed: who overheard me at night, confessing to this man how Don John, your brother, got me to slander Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard and saw me courting Margaret in Hero’s clothes, how you shamed her when you should have married her: they have my evil deeds on record, which I would rather seal with my death than repeat and bring shame on myself. The lady is dead because of my and my master’s false accusations; and, to sum up, I want nothing but the reward of a villain.
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
Doesn’t this speech run like hot iron through your veins?
I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.
I’ve drunk poison while he said it.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
But did my brother make you do this?
Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it.
Yes, and he paid me well for carrying it out.
He is composed and framed of treachery: And fled he is upon this villany.
He’s made entirely of treachery: And he’s run away because of this crime.
Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first.
Sweet Hero! now I see your image again In the same form I first fell in love with.
Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Come, take away the complainants: by now our sexton has told Signior Leonato about the situation: And, gentlemen, don’t forget to mention, when the time and place are right, that I’m an idiot.
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.
Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him: which of these is he?
Which one is the villain? Let me see his eyes, So that when I see another man like him, I can avoid him: which one of these is he?
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
If you want to know who wronged you, look at me.
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d Mine innocent child?
Are you the scoundrel who, with your lies, killed my innocent child?
Yea, even I alone.
Yes, it was me alone.
No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men; A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death: Record it with your high and worthy deeds: ’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
No, not at all, villain; you’re lying: Here stand two honorable men; A third has run away, but he was involved. I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death: Write it down with your noble actions: It was done bravely, if you think about it.
I know not how to pray your patience; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not But in mistaking.
I don’t know how to ask for your forgiveness; But I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Punish me however you see fit for my sin: Though I didn’t sin, only made a mistake.
By my soul, nor I: And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to.
By my soul, neither did I: And yet, to please this good old man, I’d bear any heavy burden That he asks me to.
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; That were impossible: but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour ought in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: To-morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, And she alone is heir to both of us: Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge.
I can’t ask you to bring my daughter back; That’s impossible: but I beg you both, Tell the people in Messina how innocent she was when she died; And if your love can think of something meaningful, Put an epitaph on her tomb And sing it to her remains, sing it tonight: Tomorrow morning, come to my house, And since you couldn’t be my son-in-law, Be my nephew instead: my brother has a daughter, Almost the exact image of my dead child, And she alone will inherit both of us: Give her the same love you should’ve given her cousin, And that will end my revenge.
O noble sir, Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Oh noble sir, Your kindness brings tears to my eyes! I accept your offer; and from now on I am at your disposal, poor Claudio.
To-morrow then I will expect your coming; To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother.
Tomorrow then I will expect your visit; Tonight, I take my leave. This wrongdoer Shall face Margaret, Who I believe was part of this scheme, Hired by your brother.
No, by my soul, she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But always hath been just and virtuous In any thing that I do know by her.
No, by my soul, she wasn’t, She didn’t know what she was doing when she spoke to me, But she has always been just and virtuous In everything I know about her.
Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say be wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God’s name, the which he hath used so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing for God’s sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.
Furthermore, sir, which really isn’t clear-cut, this complainant here, the offender, called me an ass: I ask you to remember that in his punishment. Also, the watch overheard them talking about someone named Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging from it, and borrows money in God’s name, which he’s used for so long and never paid that now people are becoming hard-hearted and won’t lend him anything for God’s sake: please, question him about that.
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
Thanks for your help and honest effort.
Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.
You speak like a very grateful and respectful young man; and I thank God for you.
There’s for thy pains.
Here’s something for your trouble.
God save the foundation!
God bless the foundation!
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.
Go, I release you from your prisoner, and I thank you.
I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.
I leave a real scoundrel with your honor; I ask you to correct him yourself, for the sake of others. God bless you! I wish you all the best; may God restore your health! I respectfully give you permission to leave; and if a happy meeting is to be wished, may God forbid it! Come, neighbor.
Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.
Until tomorrow morning, my lords, goodbye.
Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.
Goodbye, my lords: we’ll see you tomorrow.
We will not fail.
We won’t let you down.
To-night I’ll mourn with Hero.
Tonight I’ll mourn with Hero.
[To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We’ll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[To the Watch] Bring these men here. We’ll question Margaret, how she got involved with this bad man.