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Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd’s note since we have left our throne Without a burthen: time as long again Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks; And yet we should, for perpetuity, Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one ’We thank you’ many thousands moe That go before it.
Nine changes of the watery star have passed Since we left our throne Without any burden: time as long again Would be fine, my brother, with our thanks; And yet we should, forever, Leave here in debt: and so, like a zero, Still standing in a rich place, I multiply With one ’We thank you’ many thousands more That come before it.
Stay your thanks a while; And pay them when you part.
Hold your thanks for a while; And give them when you leave.
Sir, that’s to-morrow. I am question’d by my fears, of what may chance Or breed upon our absence; that may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say ’This is put forth too truly:’ besides, I have stay’d To tire your royalty.
Sir, that’s for tomorrow. I’m worried by my fears about what might happen Or what might come from our absence; that could bring Some harsh winds at home, making us say, ’This is too true:’ besides, I have stayed To tire your royalty.
We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to’t.
We’re tougher, brother, Than you can push us to.
No longer stay.
Don’t stay any longer.
One seven-night longer.
One more week.
Very sooth, to-morrow.
Very well, tomorrow.
We’ll part the time between’s then; and in that I’ll no gainsaying.
We’ll split the time between us then; and in that I won’t hear any argument.
Press me not, beseech you, so. There is no tongue that moves, none, none i’ the world, So soon as yours could win me: so it should now, Were there necessity in your request, although ’Twere needful I denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder Were in your love a whip to me; my stay To you a charge and trouble: to save both, Farewell, our brother.
Don’t press me, please, so. There’s no one who can talk faster, no one, in the world, As quickly as you could persuade me: so it should be now, If there was any real need in your request, even if It were necessary for me to refuse it. My business Is dragging me home: to delay it Would be like a punishment to me; my staying A burden and trouble for you: to save both, Farewell, our brother.
Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you.
Is our queen silent? Speak, please.
I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia’s well; this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaim’d: say this to him, He’s beat from his best ward.
I had thought, sir, to remain silent until You had forced oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, Are asking him too lightly. Tell him, you’re sure All is well in Bohemia; that was confirmed The previous day: say this to him, He’s been knocked off his best defense.
Well said, Hermione.
Well said, Hermione.
To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, We’ll thwack him hence with distaffs. Yet of your royal presence I’ll adventure The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia You take my lord, I’ll give him my commission To let him there a month behind the gest Prefix’d for’s parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar o’ the clock behind What lady-she her lord. You’ll stay?
To tell him he longs to see his son would be too strong: But let him say it then, and let him go; But if he swears it, he should not stay, We’ll send him off with our distaffs. Yet for your royal presence, I’ll risk Borrowing one more week. When you’re in Bohemia You take my lord, I’ll give him my permission To stay a month beyond the agreed date Set for his departure: but truly, Leontes, I love you no less than any lady loves her lord. Will you stay?
No, madam.
No, madam.
Nay, but you will?
No, but you will?
I may not, verily.
I really can’t.
Verily! You put me off with limber vows; but I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths, Should yet say ’Sir, no going.’ Verily, You shall not go: a lady’s ’Verily’ ’s As potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread ’Verily,’ One of them you shall be.
Really! You’re trying to avoid me with empty promises; but I, Even if you tried to move the stars with your swearing, Would still say, ’No, you’re not going.’ Really, You won’t go: a lady’s ’Really’ is As powerful as a lord’s. Will you leave yet? Force me to keep you like a prisoner, Not as a guest; then you’ll pay the price When you leave, and save your thanks. What do you think? My prisoner? Or my guest? By your serious ’Really,’ One of those you will be.
Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending; Which is for me less easy to commit Than you to punish.
Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner would suggest I’ve wronged you; And that’s harder for me to do Than for you to punish.
Not your gaoler, then, But your kind hostess. Come, I’ll question you Of my lord’s tricks and yours when you were boys: You were pretty lordings then?
Not your jailer, then, But your kind hostess. Come, I’ll ask you About my husband’s tricks and yours when you were boys: You two were quite the charming young men, weren’t you?
We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal.
We were, fair queen, Two boys who thought there was nothing beyond A tomorrow just like today, And that we’d be boys forever.
Was not my lord The verier wag o’ the two?
Wasn’t my husband The more mischievous of the two?
We were as twinn’d lambs that did frisk i’ the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we changed Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream’d That any did. Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne’er been higher rear’d With stronger blood, we should have answer’d heaven Boldly ’not guilty;’ the imposition clear’d Hereditary ours.
We were like twin lambs that frolicked in the sun, And bleated at each other: what we swapped Was innocence for innocence; we didn’t know The concept of wrongdoing, and never thought That anyone else did either. If we had lived that life, And our weak spirits hadn’t been raised up With stronger blood, we would have answered heaven Boldly with ’not guilty;’ the accusation cleared As something that belonged to our family.
By this we gather You have tripp’d since.
By this, we understand You’ve made some mistakes since then.
O my most sacred lady! Temptations have since then been born to’s; for In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes Of my young play-fellow.
Oh, my most sacred lady! Temptations have been presented to us since then; for Back in those innocent days, my wife was a girl; And your precious self had not yet caught the eye Of my young playmate.
Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; The offences we have made you do we’ll answer, If you first sinn’d with us and that with us You did continue fault and that you slipp’d not With any but with us.
Well, grace aside! Don’t jump to conclusions, unless you want to say Your queen and I are devils: but go on; We’ll answer for the wrongs we made you commit, If you first sinned with us, and continued to sin with us Without slipping up with anyone else.
Is he won yet?
Has he been won over yet?
He’ll stay my lord.
He’ll stay, my lord.
At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest To better purpose.
At my request, he wouldn’t. Hermione, my dearest, you’ve never spoken More wisely.
Never?
Never?
Never, but once.
Never, but once.
What! have I twice said well? when was’t before? I prithee tell me; cram’s with praise, and make’s As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages: you may ride’s With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal: My last good deed was to entreat his stay: What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? Nay, let me have’t; I long.
What! have I said it right twice? When did I say it before? Please tell me; praise fills us up and makes us As satisfied as tame animals: one good deed, if left unsaid, Destroys a thousand others that are waiting to be done. Our praises are our rewards: you could travel A thousand miles with just one gentle kiss before You could even cover a small distance with a whip. But let’s get to the point: My last good deed was asking him to stay: What was my first? It has an older sibling, Or I’m mistaken: Oh, I wish her name were Grace! But I spoke directly once before: when? No, let me have it; I’ve been waiting.
Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour’d themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter ’I am yours for ever.’
Why, that was when Three bitter months had soured themselves to the point of death, Before I could make you open your white hand And claim yourself as my love: then you said "I am yours forever."
’Tis grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: The one for ever earn’d a royal husband; The other for some while a friend.
That was indeed grace. Look at that, I’ve spoken directly twice: The first earned me a royal husband; The second earned me, for a time, a friend.
[Aside] Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment May a free face put on, derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent; ’t may, I grant; But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practised smiles, As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as ’twere The mort o’ the deer; O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, Art thou my boy?
[Aside] Too much, too much! Mixing friendship like that is like mixing blood. I feel a tremor in my heart: my heart dances, But not from joy; not joy. This greeting Can be given with a friendly face, can show freedom From warmth, from generosity, from a fertile heart, And might suit the one giving it; I admit that; But to be shaking hands and pinching fingers, Like they are now, and making practiced smiles, Like in a mirror, and then to sigh as though It were the death of a deer; Oh, that’s a greeting My heart can’t stand, nor my face! Mamillius, Are you my boy?
Ay, my good lord.
Yes, my good lord.
I’ fecks! Why, that’s my bawcock. What, hast smutch’d thy nose? They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf Are all call’d neat.--Still virginalling Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf?
By heavens! That’s my good boy. What, have you Smudged your nose? They say it’s a copy of mine. Come here, son, We need to look sharp; not just sharp, but clean, son: And yet the steer, the cow, and the calf Are all called neat.--Still pretending To be a gentleman!--How now, you naughty calf! Are you my calf?
Yes, if you will, my lord.
Yes, if you wish, my lord.
Thou want’st a rough pash and the shoots that I have, To be full like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs; women say so, That will say anything but were they false As o’er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false As dice are to be wish’d by one that fixes No bourn ’twixt his and mine, yet were it true To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear’st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may’t be?-- Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?-- With what’s unreal thou coactive art, And fellow’st nothing: then ’tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost, And that beyond commission, and I find it, And that to the infection of my brains And hardening of my brows.
You need a rough face and the features I have, To grow up like me: yet they say we are Almost as alike as eggs; women say that, They’ll say anything, but if they’re false As dyed hair, as wind, as water, false As dice are to be wished by someone who doesn’t know The difference between his and mine, still it would be true To say this boy looks like me. Come, boy, Look at me with your bright eyes: sweet little rascal! My dearest! my dear little one! Can your mother?--could it be?-- Affection! Your intention cuts to the heart: You make impossible things seem possible, Communicating with dreams;—how can this be?— With what’s unreal you act as though it’s real, And follow nothing: then it’s very believable That you may join with something; and you do, And that beyond reason, and I notice it, And it infects my mind And hardens my brow.
What means Sicilia?
What’s the matter, Sicilia?
He something seems unsettled.
He seems a little upset.
How, my lord! What cheer? how is’t with you, best brother?
How, my lord! What’s the matter? How are you, my dear brother?
You look as if you held a brow of much distraction Are you moved, my lord?
You look like you’re really distracted. Are you upset, my lord?
No, in good earnest. How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy’s face, methoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech’d, In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money?
No, honestly. How sometimes nature will reveal its foolishness, Its softness, and make itself a joke To tougher hearts! Looking at my boy’s face, I thought I saw myself twenty-three years ago, Back when I was a child, in my green velvet coat, my dagger covered, Lest it should hurt its owner, and prove, Like decorations often do, too dangerous: How much I looked like him, this little one, This boy, this gentleman. My honest friend, Will you take eggs for money?
No, my lord, I’ll fight.
No, my lord, I’ll fight.
You will! why, happy man be’s dole! My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours?
You will! Well, happy man, be his grief! My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Are of ours?
If at home, sir, He’s all my exercise, my mirth, my matter, Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy, My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: He makes a July’s day short as December, And with his varying childness cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood.
If he’s at home, sir, He’s all my exercise, my joy, my focus, Now my sworn friend and then my enemy, My hanger-on, my soldier, politician, everything: He makes a summer’s day feel as short as winter, And with his changing childishness heals in me Thoughts that would make my blood run cold.
So stands this squire Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, How thou lovest us, show in our brother’s welcome; Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: Next to thyself and my young rover, he’s Apparent to my heart.
That’s how this guy Serves me: we two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your more serious business. Hermione, Show us how much you love us with our brother’s welcome; Let what is precious in Sicily be cheap: Next to yourself and my young son, he’s The closest to my heart.
If you would seek us, We are yours i’ the garden: shall’s attend you there?
If you’re looking for us, We’ll be in the garden: shall we meet you there?
To your own bents dispose you: you’ll be found, Be you beneath the sky.
Do as you like: you’ll be found, Wherever you are under the sky.
I am angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband!
I’m fishing now, Though you don’t see how I’m trying to hook him. Go on, go on! Look how she puts on that attitude, the boldness to him! And arms herself with the confidence of a wife To her willing husband!
Gone already! Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a fork’d one! Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, That little thinks she has been sluiced in’s absence And his pond fish’d by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there’s comfort in’t Whiles other men have gates and those gates open’d, As mine, against their will. Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for’t there is none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where ’tis predominant; and ’tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know’t; It will let in and out the enemy With bag and baggage: many thousand on’s Have the disease, and feel’t not. How now, boy!
Gone already! So thick, knee-deep, over head and ears a fool! Go, play, boy, play: your mother plays, and I Play too, but with such a disgraceful role, whose result Will jeer me to my grave: contempt and noise Will be my death knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, Or I’m much mistaken, cuckolds before now; And many a man, even now as I speak, Holds his wife by the arm, Not knowing she’s been unfaithful in his absence, And his neighbor’s been fishing in his pond, by Sir Smile, his neighbor: well, there’s some comfort in it While other men have gates and those gates open, Like mine, against their will. Should everyone despair Who has a cheating wife, a tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. There’s no cure for it; It’s a dirty planet, that strikes Where it’s dominant; and it’s strong, believe me, From all directions: so, let’s conclude, There’s no protection for a man’s pride; know it; It will let in the enemy With everything they have: many thousands of us Have the disease, and don’t even know it. How now, boy!
I am like you, they say.
I’m like you, they say.
Why that’s some comfort. What, Camillo there?
Well, that’s some comfort. What, Camillo there?
Ay, my good lord.
Yes, my good lord.
Go play, Mamillius; thou’rt an honest man.
Go play, Mamillius; you’re an honest man.
Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
Camillo, this great man will stay a bit longer.
You had much ado to make his anchor hold: When you cast out, it still came home.
You had a hard time making his decision stick: Every time you tried to push him away, he came back.
Didst note it?
Did you notice that?
He would not stay at your petitions: made His business more material.
He wouldn’t stay because of your requests: he made His business more important.
Didst perceive it?
Did you notice that?
They’re here with me already, whispering, rounding ’Sicilia is a so-forth:’ ’tis far gone, When I shall gust it last. How came’t, Camillo, That he did stay?
They’re already here with me, whispering, saying ’Sicilia is in trouble’: it’s serious, When I finally understand it. How did it happen, Camillo, That he stayed?
At the good queen’s entreaty.
At the queen’s request.
At the queen’s be’t: ’good’ should be pertinent But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks: not noted, is’t, But of the finer natures? by some severals Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes Perchance are to this business purblind? say.
At the queen’s, yes: ‘good’ should be relevant, But, it’s not, it isn’t. Was this noticed By anyone other than you? Because your thinking is sharp, it will notice More than most people: isn’t it obvious, But only to those of higher intelligence? Could ordinary people be blind to this? Tell me.
Business, my lord! I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer.
The business, my lord! I think most people understand That Bohemia stays here longer.
Ha!
Ha!
Stays here longer.
Stays here longer.
Ay, but why?
Yes, but why?
To satisfy your highness and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.
To please your highness and the requests Of our gracious queen.
Satisfy! The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been Deceived in thy integrity, deceived In that which seems so.
Please! The queen’s requests! Please! Let that be enough. I’ve trusted you, Camillo, With all the closest matters to my heart, as well As my private talks, where, like a priest, you’ve Cleansed my soul, and I left you as a reformed man: but we’ve been Deceived in your honesty, deceived By what seemed true.
Be it forbid, my lord!
God forbid, my lord!
To bide upon’t, thou art not honest, or, If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust And therein negligent; or else a fool That seest a game play’d home, the rich stake drawn, And takest it all for jest.
To stay on this, you’re not honest, or, If you lean that way, you’re a coward, Hiding honesty behind, stopping What needs to be done; or you must be seen As a servant trusted with my serious matters And careless about them; or a fool Who sees a game being played, the big bet made, And takes it all as a joke.
My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the world, Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful-negligent, It was my folly; if industriously I play’d the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Where of the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, ’twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord, Are such allow’d infirmities that honesty Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass By its own visage: if I then deny it, ’Tis none of mine.
My lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and afraid; No one is free from these faults, But sometimes these weaknesses show up In the world’s vast actions. In your matters, my lord, If I was ever willfully negligent, It was my foolishness; if I played the fool on purpose, It was my negligence, Not thinking through the consequences; if I was ever afraid To act when I wasn’t sure of the outcome, If the result cried out against it, it was fear That even the wisest can feel: these, my lord, Are faults we all have, and honesty Is never without them. But, I beg your grace, Be clearer with me; let me know my wrong By its own face: if I deny it, Then it’s not mine.
Ha’ not you seen, Camillo,-- But that’s past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold’s horn,--or heard,-- For to a vision so apparent rumour Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think,-- My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say My wife’s a hobby-horse, deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight: say’t and justify’t.
Haven’t you seen, Camillo,-- But that’s certain, you have, or your eyesight Is worse than a cuckold’s horn,--or heard,-- Because a rumor so clear can’t stay quiet,-- Or thought,--because no one who thinks Wouldn’t consider this,-- My wife is untrustworthy? If you’ll admit it, Or be boldly negative, And say you have no eyes, ears, or thoughts, then say My wife’s just a common woman, as bad as any servant who breaks Her promise: say it and justify it.
I would not be a stander-by to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: ’shrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you less Than this; which to reiterate were sin As deep as that, though true.
I wouldn’t just stand by and listen While my queen is insulted like this, without Taking immediate revenge: damn my heart, You’ve never said anything that suited you less Than this; repeating it would be a sin As serious as that, even if it’s true.
Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world and all that’s in’t is nothing; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with the inside of the lips? stopping laughter With a sigh?--a sure sign Of dishonesty--foot to foot? Hiding in corners? wishing clocks would go faster? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind to everything except theirs, theirs alone, Who would do evil unseen? is this nothing? Then the world and everything in it is nothing; The sky is nothing; Bohemia is nothing; My wife is nothing; and none of these things matter, If this is nothing.
Good my lord, be cured Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; For ’tis most dangerous.
Please, my lord, get over This twisted view, and quickly; It’s very dangerous.
Say it be, ’tis true.
Let’s say it’s true.
No, no, my lord.
No, no, my lord.
It is; you lie, you lie: I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, Or else a hovering temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both: were my wife’s liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass.
It is; you’re lying, you’re lying: I say you’re lying, Camillo, and I hate you, I call you a clumsy fool, a mindless slave, Or worse, a scheming coward, who Can look at both good and evil at once, Leaning towards both: if my wife’s liver Were as corrupted as her life, she wouldn’t last The time it takes to flip an hourglass.
Who does infect her?
Who is corrupting her?
Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do that Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial.
The man who wears her like a medal, hanging Around his neck, Bohemia: who, if I Had trustworthy servants who cared about my honor As much as their own benefit, They’d do what’s needed to stop him: yes, and you, His cupbearer, who I’ve raised from a lower position To worship him, who can clearly see What’s happening, just like heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, How much I’m tormented,--could easily poison a drink, To give my enemy a deadly glance; And that would be the one thing I’d welcome.
Sir, my lord, I could do this, and that with no rash potion, But with a lingering dram that should not work Maliciously like poison: but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have loved thee,--
Sir, my lord, I could do this, but not with a quick poison, Just a slow, lingering dose that wouldn’t work Maliciously like poison: but I can’t Believe that my noble queen could be so tainted, Being as honorable as she is. I have loved you,--
Make that thy question, and go rot! Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation, sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets, Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps, Give scandal to the blood o’ the prince my son, Who I do think is mine and love as mine, Without ripe moving to’t? Would I do this? Could man so blench?
Stop right there, and go rot! Do you think I’m so confused, so unsettled, That I’d put myself in this situation, stain The purity of my marriage bed, Which I must protect, which when tainted Becomes a torment, a series of thorns, nettles, and wasp stings, That would shame my son, the prince, Who I believe is mine and love as if he were, Without doing something about it? Would I do this? Could any man be so foolish?
I must believe you, sir: I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for’t; Provided that, when he’s removed, your highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son’s sake; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours.
I must believe you, sir: I do; and will take Bohemia away for it; On the condition that, when he’s gone, your highness Will take back your queen as your own, For your son’s sake; and by doing so, seal The rumor’s end in courts and kingdoms Connected to yours.
Thou dost advise me Even so as I mine own course have set down: I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none.
You’re advising me Just as I’ve already decided: I’ll do nothing to harm her honor, nothing.
My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant.
My lord, Go ahead; and with a face as kind As one wears at feasts, stay with Bohemia And your queen. I am his cupbearer: If he gets a healthy drink from me, Don’t count me as your servant.
This is all: Do’t and thou hast the one half of my heart; Do’t not, thou split’st thine own.
That’s all: Do it, and you’ll have half of my heart; Don’t, and you’ll break your own.
I’ll do’t, my lord.
I’ll do it, my lord.
I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.
I’ll act friendly, as you’ve advised me.
O miserable lady! But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do’t Is the obedience to a master, one Who in rebellion with himself will have All that are his so too. To do this deed, Promotion follows. If I could find example Of thousands that had struck anointed kings And flourish’d after, I’ld not do’t; but since Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, Let villany itself forswear’t. I must Forsake the court: to do’t, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! Here comes Bohemia.
Oh, poor lady! But, what about me? What situation am I in? I have to be the one to poison good Polixenes; and my reason for doing it is because I have to obey a master, someone who, being in rebellion with himself, wants everyone around him to rebel too. If I do this act, promotion will follow. If I could find an example of thousands who’ve killed kings and gotten away with it, I wouldn’t do it; but since neither metal, stone, nor paper records any such example, let evil itself renounce it. I must leave the court: whether I do this or not, it’s certain it will lead to my ruin. May my lucky star guide me! Here comes Bohemia.
This is strange: methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Good day, Camillo.
This is strange: I feel my favor with him is starting to change. Not speaking? Good day, Camillo.
Hail, most royal sir!
Greetings, most noble sir!
What is the news i’ the court?
What’s the news in the court?
None rare, my lord.
Nothing unusual, my lord.
The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province and a region Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changeth thus his manners.
The king looks like he’s lost a province and a region that he loved as much as himself: just now I saw him with the usual greeting; but then, looking away from me with a scornful expression, he quickly turned and left me, making me wonder what’s going on that has caused this change in his behavior.
I dare not know, my lord.
I don’t dare to say, my lord.
How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me: ’tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must. And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your changed complexions are to me a mirror Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter’d with ’t.
What! You don’t dare? You know, but you don’t dare? Tell me honestly: you must know something; if you do, you should tell me. And if you’re keeping it to yourself, then you’re as good as guilty. Good Camillo, your changed appearance is like a mirror to me showing me that I’ve changed too; because I must be involved in whatever is causing this change, finding myself altered by it.
There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper, but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught Of you that yet are well.
There’s a sickness that makes some of us act irrationally, but I can’t say what it is; and it’s caught by those of you who are still well.
How! caught of me! Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look’d on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill’d none so. Camillo,-- As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents’ noble names, In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform’d, imprison’t not In ignorant concealment.
What! Caught from me! Don’t make me seem blind like the basilisk: I’ve looked at thousands, and most have prospered because of my gaze, but I’ve never killed anyone. Camillo,-- As you are surely a gentleman, and experienced in such matters, which adds as much to our nobility as our parents’ good names, for we are noble through their success,--I beg you, if you know anything that I should be aware of, don’t keep it hidden from me.
I may not answer.
I cannot answer.
A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer’d. Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; Which way to be prevented, if to be; If not, how best to bear it.
A sickness caught from me, and yet I’m fine! I must be answered. Do you hear me, Camillo? I beg you, by all that makes a man honorable, and the least of that being this request of mine, that you tell me what harm you suspect is coming my way; how far off it is, how near it is; what I can do to prevent it, if I can; and if not, how best to endure it.
Sir, I will tell you; Since I am charged in honour and by him That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, Which must be even as swiftly follow’d as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so good night!
Sir, I will tell you; Since I am bound by honor and by him whom I consider honorable: so listen carefully to my advice, which must be followed immediately, or else both you and I will be lost, and that will be the end of it!
On, good Camillo.
Go on, good Camillo.
I am appointed him to murder you.
The king has ordered me to kill you.
By whom, Camillo?
Who told you to do that, Camillo?
By the king.
The king did.
For what?
Why?
He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he had seen’t or been an instrument To vice you to’t, that you have touch’d his queen Forbiddenly.
He believes, no, he’s absolutely sure, and swears, As if he had seen it or been involved in it, That you’ve wronged his queen, In a way that’s forbidden.
O, then my best blood turn To an infected jelly and my name Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn’d, Nay, hated too, worse than the great’st infection That e’er was heard or read!
Oh, then let my best blood Turn to something rotten and useless, and let my name Be linked with the one who betrayed the Best! Let my good reputation be turned into A stench that anyone can smell, So that wherever I go, people avoid me, No, they hate me, worse than the worst disease Ever known or written about!
Swear his thought over By each particular star in heaven and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon As or by oath remove or counsel shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is piled upon his faith and will continue The standing of his body.
You can swear on every star in the sky and By all their powers, but it won’t change anything. You might as well try to stop the sea from following the moon As to change the king’s mind, whose foolishness Is built on his faith and will keep standing Like the body he lives in.
How should this grow?
How did this happen?
I know not: but I am sure ’tis safer to Avoid what’s grown than question how ’tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty, That lies enclosed in this trunk which you Shall bear along impawn’d, away to-night! Your followers I will whisper to the business, And will by twos and threes at several posterns Clear them o’ the city. For myself, I’ll put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; For, by the honour of my parents, I Have utter’d truth: which if you seek to prove, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer Than one condemn’d by the king’s own mouth, thereon His execution sworn.
I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s safer to Avoid what’s already happened than try to figure out how it started. If you trust my honesty, Which is packed inside this body I’m carrying, you should Leave tonight! I’ll secretly tell your men what to do, And get them out of the city in small groups. As for me, I’ll risk my own future to help you, which is Already lost because of this betrayal. Don’t doubt me; For by my parents’ honor, I’m telling the truth: if you test it, I won’t stand by it; nor will you be safer Than someone condemned by the king’s own word, with his execution ready.
I do believe thee: I saw his heart in ’s face. Give me thy hand: Be pilot to me and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago. This jealousy Is for a precious creature: as she’s rare, Must it be great, and as his person’s mighty, Must it be violent, and as he does conceive He is dishonour’d by a man which ever Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o’ershades me: Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta’en suspicion! Come, Camillo; I will respect thee as a father if Thou bear’st my life off hence: let us avoid.
I believe you: I saw it in your face. Give me your hand: Be my guide, and your fortunes will be as close as mine. My ships are ready, And my men expected me to leave two days ago. This jealousy Is for a precious woman: since she’s rare, The reaction must be extreme, and since his power is great, The revenge must be violent, and since he believes He’s dishonored by someone who’s always been loyal to him, His revenge will be even harsher. Fear clouds my judgment: Good luck be with me, and may it comfort The queen, who is part of his worry, but not the cause of his suspicion! Come, Camillo; I will honor you as a father if You help me escape: let’s go.
It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns: please your highness To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.
I have the authority to unlock all the gates: Please, Your Highness, hurry while the time is right. Come, sir, let’s go.