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By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod indeed Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me.
By my faith, I can’t go any further, sir; My old bones are aching: this is quite a maze With straight paths and twists! Please, let me rest.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach’d with weariness, To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope and keep it No longer for my flatterer: he is drown’d Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
Old man, I can’t blame you, I’m myself worn out with tiredness, And it dulls my spirit: sit down and rest. Even here, I’ll give up hope and stop keeping it For my flatterer: he’s drowned, The one we’ve been searching for, and the sea mocks Our failed search on land. Well, let him go.
[Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he’s so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect.
[Aside to SEBASTIAN] I’m really glad he’s given up hope. Don’t, because of one failure, give up on what You were set on doing.
[Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage Will we take throughly.
[Aside to ANTONIO] We’ll take the next opportunity And make the most of it.
[Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh.
[Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let’s do it tonight; Because they’re tired from their journey, they Won’t, or can’t, be as alert As when they’re well-rested.
[Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more.
[Aside to ANTONIO] I’m saying, tonight. That’s it.
What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!
What kind of music is this? Friends, listen!
Marvellous sweet music!
It’s wonderfully sweet music!
Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
May the heavens protect us! What were those?
A living drollery. Now I will believe That there are unicorns, that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there.
A living joke. Now I’ll believe That unicorns exist, that in Arabia There’s a tree, the phoenix’s throne, and one phoenix Ruling there at this moment.
I’ll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie, Though fools at home condemn ’em.
I’ll believe both of those; And if there’s anything else that sounds unbelievable, bring it to me, And I’ll swear it’s true: travelers never lie, Though fools back home may say they do.
If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders-- For, certes, these are people of the island-- Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any.
If I told this story in Naples, Would anyone believe me? If I said I saw these islanders-- Because, clearly, these are island people-- Who, though they look strange, still have Gentler manners than most of Our human race, you’d find Many, or even almost all, of us to be worse.
[Aside] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils.
[Aside] Honest man, You’ve spoken well; for some of the people here Are worse than demons.
I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing, Although they want the use of tongue, a kind Of excellent dumb discourse.
I can’t stop thinking about Those shapes, those gestures, and that sound. Even though they don’t speak, it was a kind Of beautiful silent conversation.
[Aside] Praise in departing.
[Aside] Praise as they leave.
They vanish’d strangely.
They disappeared in a strange way.
No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. Will’t please you taste of what is here?
It doesn’t matter, since They left their food behind, and we’re hungry. Would you like to try some of this?
Not I.
Not me.
Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find Each putter-out of five for one will bring us Good warrant of.
Honestly, sir, you don’t need to be afraid. When we were young, Who would have believed there were mountain people Covered in dew like bulls, with their throats hanging with Flesh-filled wallets? Or that there were men Whose heads were in their chests? Now we find That anyone who bets five to one can give us Good proof of it.
I will stand to and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, Stand to and do as we.
I will stay and eat, Even if it’s my last meal: no matter, since I feel That the best is over. Brother, my lord the duke, Stay with us and do the same.
You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in’t, the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you ’mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; And even with such-like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves.
You three are men of sin, whom Destiny, Who controls this world and everything in it, Has made the sea spit you out; and on this island, Where no humans live, you are the least fit to survive. I have driven you mad; And with this kind of courage, men hang or drown Themselves.
You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate: the elements, Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember-- For that’s my business to you--that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero; Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me: Lingering perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from-- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing.
You idiots! My friends and I Are servants of Fate: the elements, From which your swords are made, can just as easily Harm the strong winds, or with useless strikes Kill the still-closing waters, as to damage A single feather in my plume: my fellow-servants Are just as invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are too heavy for your strength And won’t lift. But remember— Because this is what I need to tell you—that you three From Milan betrayed good Prospero; Exposed him to the sea, which has paid it back, Him and his innocent child: for that terrible act The powers, delaying but not forgetting, have Stirred up the seas and shores, and all the creatures, Against your peace. Alonso, they’ve taken your son; And through me, they say: A long-lasting punishment, worse than any death Can come all at once, shall slowly follow You and your ways; whose anger to protect you from— Which would otherwise fall On your heads here on this empty island— Is nothing but deep sadness And a clean life to follow.
Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions; they now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown’d, And his and mine loved darling.
You’ve done a great job with the figure of that harpy, My Ariel; it had a fierce elegance: You haven’t left out anything from my instructions In what you had to say: so, with a good touch And strange performances, my lesser servants Have done their parts. My magic works And these enemies of mine are all tangled up In their confusion; they are now in my control; And in these states I leave them, while I go to Visit young Ferdinand, whom they think is dead, And my dear, beloved child.
I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare?
In the name of something holy, sir, why are you Staring like this?
O, it is monstrous, monstrous: Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i’ the ooze is bedded, and I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded And with him there lie mudded.
Oh, it’s monstrous, monstrous: I thought the waves spoke and told me about it; The winds sang it to me, and the thunder, That deep, terrifying sound, shouted The name of Prospero: it made me feel my guilt. That’s why my son is buried in the mud, and I’ll search for him deeper than any plummet can measure, And stay there with him, covered in the mud.
But one fiend at a time, I’ll fight their legions o’er.
But one devil at a time, I’ll fight their armies one by one.
I’ll be thy second.
I’ll be your second.
All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now ’gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to.
All three of them are in a bad state: their heavy guilt, Like poison that takes a long time to have an effect, Is starting to take its toll on their minds. I beg you Those of you who are more agile, catch up with them quickly And stop them from whatever wild action This madness might lead them to.
Follow, I pray you.
Please, follow them.