Original
Modern English
Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor’s wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.
Please, sir, be cheerful; you have a reason to be, So do we all, to feel joy; because our escape Is much more than our loss. Our little bit of sadness Is something everyone knows; every day some sailor’s wife, The captains of some merchants and the merchants Have just the same kind of sad story we have; but for the miracle, I mean our survival, very few people in the world Can say the same as us: so wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow against our happiness.
Prithee, peace.
Please, be quiet.
He receives comfort like cold porridge.
He takes comfort like cold porridge.
The visitor will not give him o’er so.
The visitor won’t stop doing that.
Look he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.
Look, he’s getting ready to speak; pretty soon he’ll say something.
Sir,--
Sir,--
One: tell.
Go on: tell us.
When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, Comes to the entertainer--
When every sorrow that is offered is accepted, It turns into the responsibility of the one who accepts it--
A dollar.
A dollar.
Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.
Sadness does come to him, indeed: you Have spoken more truthfully than you intended.
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
You’ve understood it more wisely than I meant you to.
Therefore, my lord,--
So, my lord,--
Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Ugh, what a waste of words he is!
I prithee, spare.
Please, stop.
Well, I have done: but yet,--
Alright, I’ve finished, but still--
He will be talking.
He’ll keep talking.
Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?
So, which of them—he or Adrian—do you think, for a bet, will be the first to start bragging?
The old cock.
The old man.
The cockerel.
The rooster.
Done. The wager?
Done. What’s the bet?
A laughter.
A laugh.
A match!
It’s a deal!
Though this island seem to be desert,--
Although this island looks like it’s deserted--
Ha, ha, ha! So, you’re paid.
Ha, ha, ha! There, you’ve got what you deserve.
Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,--
Uninhabited and nearly impossible to reach--
Yet,--
But--
Yet,--
But--
He could not miss’t.
He couldn’t have been wrong.
It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance.
It must be something very fine, sensitive, and gentle.
Temperance was a delicate wench.
Temperance was a delicate girl.
Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
Yes, and very clever; as he explained it so well.
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
The air feels so sweet here.
As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
Like it has lungs, and rotten ones at that.
Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.
Or like it’s been scented by a swamp.
Here is everything advantageous to life.
Everything here is good for living.
True; save means to live.
True, except the means to stay alive.
Of that there’s none, or little.
There’s none, or very little.
How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
Look how thick and healthy the grass is! How green!
The ground indeed is tawny.
The ground is actually brown.
With an eye of green in’t.
With a touch of green in it.
He misses not much.
He’s not too far off.
No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
No; he’s just completely wrong about the facts.
But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost beyond credit,--
But the rarity of it is— which is honestly almost unbelievable—
As many vouched rarities are.
Like many things that are claimed to be rare.
That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.
Our clothes, even though they were soaked in the sea, still look fresh and clean, as if they were newly dyed instead of stained with salt water.
If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?
If just one of his pockets could talk, wouldn’t it say he’s lying?
Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report
Yes, or at least he’s hiding the truth in his pocket.
Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.
I think our clothes are as fresh now as when we first put them on in Africa, at the wedding of the king’s beautiful daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.
’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
It was a lovely wedding, and we did well on our way back.
Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.
Tunis had never seen such a perfect queen before.
Not since widow Dido’s time.
Not since the time of widow Dido.
Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!
Widow! What nonsense! How did widow Dido get into this?
What if he had said ’widower AEneas’ too? Good Lord, how you take it!
What if he had said “widower Aeneas” too? Good grief, look at how you’re reacting!
’Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
“Widow Dido,” you say? Now you’ve got me thinking about that—she was from Carthage, not from Tunis.
This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
This Tunis, my friend, used to be Carthage.
Carthage?
Carthage?
I assure you, Carthage.
Yes, I assure you, it was Carthage.
His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too.
His word is more powerful than the magical harp; he’s built walls and houses with just a word.
What impossible matter will he make easy next?
What impossible thing will he make seem easy next?
I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple.
I think he’ll put the whole island in his pocket and give it to his son as if it were just an apple.
And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.
And, by spreading its seeds in the sea, create more islands.
Ay.
Yes.
Why, in good time.
Well, that’s a good thing.
Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.
Sir, we were just saying that our clothes look as fresh as they did when we were at Tunis, at your daughter’s wedding, and she’s now a queen.
And the rarest that e’er came there.
And the most exceptional woman who ever came there.
Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Stop, I beg you, widow Dido.
O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.
Oh, widow Dido! Yes, widow Dido.
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
Is my doublet not as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, sort of.
That sort was well fished for.
That sort was well chosen.
When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?
When I wore it at your daughter’s wedding?
You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee?
You’re stuffing these words in my ears against what I can bear. I wish I had never married my daughter there! Because, since then, my son is lost and, in my opinion, she is too, so far from Italy that I’ll never see her again. Oh, my heir of Naples and Milan, what strange creature has eaten you?
Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head ’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d, As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt He came alive to land.
Sir, he may still be alive: I saw him battling the waves beneath him, and riding on their backs; he walked on the water, which he tossed aside, and faced the biggest wave that met him; his bold head stayed above the rough waves, and he rowed himself with strong strokes, to the shore, which bowed as if to help him: I’m sure he made it to land alive.
No, no, he’s gone.
No, no, he’s gone.
Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she at least is banish’d from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.
Sir, you can thank yourself for this huge loss, for not giving Europe the gift of your daughter, but instead sending her off to an African. At least there she’s out of your sight, and you have reason to mourn it.
Prithee, peace.
Please, be quiet.
You were kneel’d to and importuned otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at Which end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business’ making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault’s your own.
We all knelt before you and urged you otherwise, and the fair soul herself was torn between reluctance and obedience, unsure of which way to go. We’ve lost your son, I fear, forever: Milan and Naples have more widows from this tragedy than we have men left to comfort them. The fault is yours.
So is the dear’st o’ the loss.
The loss is most painful.
My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster.
My lord Sebastian, The truth you’re speaking lacks some kindness And the right time to say it: you’re making the wound worse, When you should be healing it.
Very well.
Alright.
And most chirurgeonly.
And very doctor-like.
It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy.
It’s bad weather for us all, sir, When you’re in a bad mood.
Foul weather?
Bad weather?
Very foul.
Very bad.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--
If I ruled this island, my lord,--
He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed.
He’d plant it with nettles.
Or docks, or mallows.
Or docks, or mallows.
And were the king on’t, what would I do?
And if the king were on it, what would I do?
’Scape being drunk for want of wine.
Escape, being drunk for lack of wine.
I’ the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty;--
In my perfect world, I would do everything the opposite I would allow no trade; no government officials; No written letters; no wealth, no poverty, No service, no contracts, no inheritance, No boundaries, no farming, no vineyards; No use for metal, grain, wine, or oil; No work; everyone idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No kingship;--
Yet he would be king on’t.
But he’d still want to be king.
The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
The end of his ideal world forgets the beginning.
All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Everything in nature should be produced Without effort or struggle: treason, crime, Swords, pikes, knives, guns, or any tools of violence, Should not exist; nature should provide, On its own, all things in abundance, To feed my innocent people.
No marrying ’mong his subjects?
No marriage among his people?
None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.
No, man; all useless: prostitutes and criminals.
I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.
I would govern with such perfection, sir, That I would surpass the golden age.
God save his majesty!
God save the king!
Long live Gonzalo!
Long live Gonzalo!
And,--do you mark me, sir?
And,--do you hear me, sir?
Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
Please, no more: you’re not making any sense to me.
I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.
I truly believe your highness; and I said it to give these gentlemen a chance, who have such sharp and quick wit that they always laugh at nothing.
’Twas you we laughed at.
It was you we laughed at.
Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing still.
In this kind of joking, I’m nothing to you: so you can keep laughing at nothing as you like.
What a blow was there given!
What a slap that was!
An it had not fallen flat-long.
If it hadn’t landed flat, it would have lasted longer.
You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.
You’re gentlemen of great courage; you could lift the moon out of its orbit if she would stay there for five weeks without changing.
We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
We’d do that, and then go bird-hunting.
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
No, please, my lord, don’t be angry.
No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?
No, I promise you; I won’t risk my judgment that poorly. Will you make me fall asleep by laughing, because I’m very tired?
Go sleep, and hear us.
Go to sleep, and listen to us.
What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so.
What, are they all asleep already? I wish my eyes would just shut off my thoughts: I can feel they’re about to do that.
Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.
Please, sir, Don’t ignore the generous offer of sleep: It doesn’t come around often with sorrow; when it does, it’s a comfort.
We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety.
We two, my lord, will guard you while you rest, and watch over your safety.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
Thank you. I’m incredibly tired.
What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
What a strange drowsiness has taken over them!
It is the quality o’ the climate.
It’s the nature of this climate.
Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep.
Then Why don’t our eyelids fall? I don’t feel like sleeping.
Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:-- And yet me thinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.
Neither do I; my mind is sharp. They all fell asleep at once, as if it was planned; They dropped like they were struck by lightning. What could, noble Sebastian? Oh, what could it be?--No more:-- Yet I think I see it on your face, what you could be: the situation tells me, and my strong imagination sees a crown falling onto your head.
What, art thou waking?
What, are you awake?
Do you not hear me speak?
Don’t you hear me speaking?
I do; and surely It is a sleepy language and thou speak’st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.
I do; and certainly It sounds like sleepy talk and you’re speaking out of your sleep. What did you just say? This is a strange sleep, to be asleep with your eyes wide open; standing, talking, moving, and yet so deeply asleep.
Noble Sebastian, Thou let’st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink’st Whiles thou art waking.
Noble Sebastian, You’re letting your fate sleep—better for it to die, or blink while you’re awake.
Thou dost snore distinctly; There’s meaning in thy snores.
You’re snoring clearly; There’s meaning in your snores.
I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o’er.
I’m more serious than usual: you Must be too, if you listen to me; which to do Would triple your effort.
Well, I am standing water.
Well, I’m stagnant.
I’ll teach you how to flow.
I’ll show you how to move.
Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Go ahead: to fall back Inherited laziness teaches me.
O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.
Oh, If you only knew how you nurture the goal While mocking it! How, in trying to get rid of it, You actually make it stronger! People who fall back, truly, Often do so because of their own fear or laziness.
Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield.
Please, go on: The way your eye and face look say Something serious from you, and a real birth Which makes you struggle a lot to give it up.
Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuade,-- For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,--the king his son’s alive, ’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d And he that sleeps here swims.
Like this, sir: Though this lord with a poor memory, this one, Who will be just as forgotten When he’s buried, has almost convinced me,-- For he’s a persuading spirit, only Pretending to persuade,--the king’s son is alive, It’s as impossible that he’s not drowned As it is for him who sleeps here to swim.
I have no hope That he’s undrown’d.
I have no hope That he’s not drowned.
O, out of that ’no hope’ What great hope have you! no hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown’d?
Oh, from that ‘no hope’ What great hope do you have! No hope that way leads Another way offers such high hope that even Ambition can’t see beyond it, But doubt what’s there. Will you agree with me That Ferdinand is drowned?
He’s gone.
He’s gone.
Then, tell me, Who’s the next heir of Naples?
Then, tell me, Who’s the next heir to Naples?
Claribel.
Claribel.
She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post-- The man i’ the moon’s too slow--till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom? We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
She who is queen of Tunis; she who lives Ten leagues beyond human life; she who from Naples Would have no news unless the sun were faster-- The man in the moon’s too slow--until new-born chins Grow rough and shaveable; she who--from whom? We all were swallowed by the sea, though some were cast back, And by that fate to act Where what’s past is just the beginning, what’s to come Is yours and my responsibility.
What stuff is this! how say you? ’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions There is some space.
What’s all this! What do you mean? It’s true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis; So she’s heir to Naples; and there’s some distance Between those regions.
A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, ’How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.’ Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?
A distance whose every inch Seems to shout, ‘How will Claribel Bring us back to Naples? Stay in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.’ Say, if this were death That now has taken them; why, they’d be no worse Than they are now. There are those who can rule Naples As well as the one who sleeps; lords who can talk Just as much and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo; I myself could chatter Just as deeply. Oh, if only you had The same mind I do! What a great opportunity This would be for your rise! Do you understand me?
Methinks I do.
I think so.
And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?
And how does your satisfaction Reflect on your own good luck?
I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.
I remember You betrayed your brother Prospero.
True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before: my brother’s servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men.
True: And look how well my clothes fit me now; Much better than before: my brother’s servants Were once my equals; now they are my subordinates.
But, for your conscience?
But what about your conscience?
Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe, ’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; They’ll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour.
Yes, sir; where does that stand? If it were a sore, It would make me put on my slipper: but I don’t feel Any guilt in my heart: if there were twenty consciences, That stood between me and Milan, I’d sweeten them up And have them melt away before they could bother me! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies on, If he’s really as dead as he seems; I, with this obedient sword, just three inches of it, Could put him to rest forever; while you, doing this, Could make this old fool, this Sir Prudence, fall asleep forever And never question our actions. As for the rest, They’ll believe anything we tell them, like a cat laps milk; They’ll do whatever we say fits the moment.
Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan, I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the king shall love thee.
Your case, my dear friend, Will be my example; as you took Milan, I’ll take Naples. Draw your sword: one blow Will free you from the tribute you owe; And I, the king, will love you.
Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo.
Let’s draw together; And when I raise my hand, you do the same, To strike down Gonzalo.
O, but one word.
Oh, just one word.
My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth-- For else his project dies--to keep them living.
My master, through his magic, knows the danger You, his friend, are in; and sends me here— Or else his plan would fail—to keep you safe.
While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake, awake!
While you lie here asleep, Open-eyed conspiracy Is taking its chance. If you care for your life, Shake off sleep and beware: Wake up, wake up!
Then let us both be sudden.
Then let’s act quickly.
Now, good angels Preserve the king.
Now, good angels Protect the king.
Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?
What’s going on? Hey, wake up! Why are you all up? Why do you look so horrified?
What’s the matter?
What’s wrong?
Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.
While we were standing here, making sure you were asleep, We just heard a loud, horrible noise, Like bulls—or maybe lions. Didn’t it wake you? It sounded so terrible to me.
I heard nothing.
I didn’t hear anything.
O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.
Oh, it was a noise that would scare even a monster, Like an earthquake! It was definitely the roar Of a whole group of lions.
Heard you this, Gonzalo?
Did you hear that, Gonzalo?
Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place; let’s draw our weapons.
I swear to you, sir, I heard a buzzing, A strange one, too, that woke me up: I shook you, sir, and yelled: when I opened my eyes, I saw their weapons drawn. There was a noise, That’s true. It’s best we be on our guard, Or maybe leave this place; let’s get our weapons out.
Lead off this ground; and let’s make further search For my poor son.
Let’s move away from here, and keep looking For my poor son.
Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i’ the island.
May Heaven protect him from these beasts! He must be here, on the island.
Lead away.
Let’s go.
Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
My lord Prospero will know what I’ve done: So, king, go on safely, and keep searching for your son.