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Modern English
Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, ’Tis past enduring.
Take the boy from me: he’s causing me so much trouble, I can’t stand it any longer.
Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your playfellow?
Come, my gracious lord, Do you want to play with me?
No, I’ll none of you.
No, I don’t want to play with any of you.
Why, my sweet lord?
Why, my sweet lord?
You’ll kiss me hard and speak to me as if I were a baby still. I love you better.
You’ll kiss me too hard and talk to me like I’m still a baby. I like you better.
And why so, my lord?
And why is that, my lord?
Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best, so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle Or a half-moon made with a pen.
Not because Your eyebrows are darker; though they say dark eyebrows Suit some women best, as long as there isn’t Too much hair, just a semi-circle Or a half-moon shape, like it’s drawn with a pen.
Who taught you this?
Who taught you that?
I learnt it out of women’s faces. Pray now What colour are your eyebrows?
I learned it from looking at women’s faces. Now tell me, What color are your eyebrows?
Blue, my lord.
Blue, my lord.
Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a lady’s nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
No, that’s a joke: I’ve seen a lady’s nose That was blue, but never her eyebrows.
Hark ye; The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall Present our services to a fine new prince One of these days; and then you’ld wanton with us, If we would have you.
Listen; Your mother the queen is getting closer: we’ll soon Present our services to a fine new prince, One of these days; and then you’ll play around with us, If we let you.
She is spread of late Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!
She’s gotten so big lately, She’s really growing well: good luck to her!
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, And tell ’s a tale.
What’s going on, people? Come on, sir, I’m ready for you again: Please, sit by us, And tell us a story.
Merry or sad shall’t be?
Should it be happy or sad?
As merry as you will.
As happy as you like.
A sad tale’s best for winter: I have one Of sprites and goblins.
A sad story’s best for winter: I have one About ghosts and goblins.
Let’s have that, good sir. Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites; you’re powerful at it.
Let’s hear that one, good sir. Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best To scare me with your ghosts; you’re really good at it.
There was a man--
There was a man--
Nay, come, sit down; then on.
No, come on, sit down; keep going.
Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly; Yond crickets shall not hear it.
He lived by a churchyard: I’ll tell it quietly; So the crickets won’t hear it.
Come on, then, And give’t me in mine ear.
Go on, then, And whisper it in my ear.
Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?
Did he meet them there? His group? Was Camillo with him?
Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them Even to their ships.
I met them behind the pine trees; I’ve never Seen men rush so quickly on their way: I watched them All the way to their ships.
How blest am I In my just censure, in my true opinion! Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed In being so blest! There may be in the cup A spider steep’d, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge Is not infected: but if one present The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. Camillo was his help in this, his pander: There is a plot against my life, my crown; All’s true that is mistrusted: that false villain Whom I employ’d was pre-employ’d by him: He has discover’d my design, and I Remain a pinch’d thing; yea, a very trick For them to play at will. How came the posterns So easily open?
How lucky am I In my judgment, in my true opinion! Alas, for not knowing enough! How cursed To be so lucky! There may be a spider in the cup And someone might drink it, leave, and not be harmed, Because their ignorance protects them: but if someone shows The disgusting thing to his eye, makes it clear That he’s drunk it, it will make him sick, his insides, With violent pain. I’ve drunk it, And I’ve seen the spider. Camillo helped with this, he was the go-between: There’s a plot against my life, my crown; Everything I’ve suspected is true: that false traitor Whom I employed was already working for him: He’s found out my plan, and I Am left exposed; yes, a mere pawn For them to play with as they like. How did the back doors Open so easily?
By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail’d than so On your command.
Through his great power; Which has often been as effective as yours In getting things done.
I know’t too well. Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him: Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you Have too much blood in him.
I know it too well. Give me the boy: I’m glad you didn’t raise him: Even though he has some features like mine, still, you Have too much of your own blood in him.
What is this? sport?
What is this? A joke?
Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; Away with him! and let her sport herself With that she’s big with; for ’tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus.
Take the boy away; he won’t be allowed near her; Get him out of here! Let her enjoy herself With what she’s pregnant with; because it’s Polixenes Who has made you look like this.
But I’ld say he had not, And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying, Howe’er you lean to the nayward.
But I’d say he didn’t, And I’ll swear you’d believe me, Even if you’re leaning toward the opposite.
You, my lords, Look on her, mark her well; be but about To say ’she is a goodly lady,’ and The justice of your bearts will thereto add ’Tis pity she’s not honest, honourable:’ Praise her but for this her without-door form, Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands That calumny doth use--O, I am out-- That mercy does, for calumny will sear Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha’s, When you have said ’she’s goodly,’ come between Ere you can say ’she’s honest:’ but be ’t known, From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, She’s an adulteress.
You, my lords, Look at her, watch her closely; if you’re about To say ’she’s a beautiful lady,’ and Your conscience will add ’It’s a shame she’s not honest, honorable:’ Praise her only for her outer appearance, Which, honestly, deserves high praise, and then The shrug, the hum or ha, these small gestures That gossip uses—Oh, I’m out of line— That mercy allows, because gossip will damage Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha’s, When you’ve said ’she’s beautiful,’ come between Before you can say ’she’s honest:’ but let it be known, From the one who has the most reason to mourn it, she’s An adulteress.
Should a villain say so, The most replenish’d villain in the world, He were as much more villain: you, my lord, Do but mistake.
If a villain said this, The worst villain in the world, He would be even more of a villain: you, my lord, Are just mistaken.
You have mistook, my lady, Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing! Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place, Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, Should a like language use to all degrees And mannerly distinguishment leave out Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said She’s an adulteress; I have said with whom: More, she’s a traitor and Camillo is A federary with her, and one that knows What she should shame to know herself But with her most vile principal, that she’s A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give bold’st titles, ay, and privy To this their late escape.
You’ve made a mistake, my lady, Confusing Polixenes with Leontes: oh, you thing! Which I won’t even call a creature of your kind, Lest barbarism, by making me the example, Should let such language be used to all people And remove the distinctions between The prince and the beggar: I’ve said She’s an adulteress; I’ve said who with: Furthermore, she’s a traitor and Camillo is An accomplice with her, and one who knows What she should be ashamed to know about herself, But with her most wicked actions, that she’s A bed-hopper, just as bad as those That common people give the boldest labels to, yes, and secretly Involved in their recent escape.
No, by my life. Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that You thus have publish’d me! Gentle my lord, You scarce can right me throughly then to say You did mistake.
No, by my life. I know nothing about this. How will this hurt you, When you find out the truth, that You’ve wrongfully accused me! Please, my lord, You’ll hardly be able to clear my name by saying You made a mistake.
No; if I mistake In those foundations which I build upon, The centre is not big enough to bear A school-boy’s top. Away with her! to prison! He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty But that he speaks.
No; if I’m wrong In the foundations I’ve built my case on, The center isn’t big enough to support A schoolboy’s spinning top. Get her out of here! To prison! Whoever speaks for her is guilty Just for speaking.
There’s some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have That honourable grief lodged here which burns Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords, With thoughts so qualified as your charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so The king’s will be perform’d!
There’s some evil influence at work: I must be patient until the heavens look More favorably on me. Please, my lords, I’m not prone to crying, like our sex Usually is; the lack of that superficial grief Might dry up your sympathy: but I carry An honorable grief inside, one that burns Worse than tears could drown: I beg you all, my lords, With thoughts as merciful as your kindness Will teach you, judge me; and so The king’s will be done!
Shall I be heard?
Will I be heard?
Who is’t that goes with me? Beseech your highness, My women may be with me; for you see My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress Has deserved prison, then abound in tears As I come out: this action I now go on Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord: I never wish’d to see you sorry; now I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave.
Who is going with me? Please, your highness, Let my women be with me; because you see My situation requires it. Don’t cry, good fools; There’s no reason: when you find out your mistress Deserves prison, then cry all you want As I come out: this action I’m taking Is for my better reputation. Goodbye, my lord: I never wanted to see you sad; now I hope I will. My ladies, come; you’re allowed.
Go, do our bidding; hence!
Go, do what we’ve told you; leave!
Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
Please, your highness, call the queen back.
Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer, Yourself, your queen, your son.
Be sure of what you’re doing, sir, or your justice May turn into violence; and in that case, three great ones suffer, You, your queen, your son.
For her, my lord, I dare my life lay down and will do’t, sir, Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless I’ the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, In this which you accuse her.
For her, my lord, I’d risk my life, and will do it, sir, If you’ll accept it, that the queen is innocent In the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, In this matter you accuse her of.
If it prove She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I’ll go in couples with her; Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her; For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh is false, If she be.
If it turns out She’s guilty, I’ll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I’ll go in pairs with her; And when I can no longer trust her, For every inch of woman in the world, Yes, every ounce of woman’s flesh is false, if she is.
Hold your peaces.
Quiet down.
Good my lord,--
Please, my lord,--
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: You are abused and by some putter-on That will be damn’d for’t; would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw’d, I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven The second and the third, nine, and some five; If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t: by mine honour, I’ll geld ’em all; fourteen they shall not see, To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; And I had rather glib myself than they Should not produce fair issue.
We’re talking to you, not to ourselves: You’re being deceived by someone who’ll be punished for it; I wish I knew who the villain was, I’d make sure he gets what he deserves. If she’s dishonored, I have three daughters; the oldest is eleven, the second and third are nine and five; If this turns out to be true, they’ll pay the price: I swear on my honor, I’ll make sure they can’t have children; they won’t live past fourteen, To prevent false heirs: they are co-heirs; And I’d rather cut myself than have them Not produce legitimate children.
Cease; no more. You smell this business with a sense as cold As is a dead man’s nose: but I do see’t and feel’t As you feel doing thus; and see withal The instruments that feel.
Stop; no more. You’re as cold about this as a dead man’s nose: But I see and feel it like this, and I also see The people who feel it.
If it be so, We need no grave to bury honesty: There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth.
If that’s the case, We don’t need a grave to bury the truth: There’s not a bit of it that would sweeten The whole filthy earth.
What! lack I credit?
What! Do you think I’m lying?
I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, Upon this ground; and more it would content me To have her honour true than your suspicion, Be blamed for’t how you might.
I’d rather you be mistaken than I, my lord, On this issue; and I’d feel more satisfied If her honor were true than if your suspicion Turned out to be right, however you might be blamed for it.
Why, what need we Commune with you of this, but rather follow Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves We need no more of your advice: the matter, The loss, the gain, the ordering on’t, is all Properly ours.
Why, what’s the point of talking to you about this, when we should just follow Our strong will? Our authority Doesn’t need your advice, but our natural kindness Gives this decision; if you, either stunned Or pretending to be ignorant, can’t or won’t Accept a truth like we can, then inform yourself We don’t need more of your counsel: the matter, The loss, the gain, the handling of it, is all Our responsibility.
And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture.
And I wish, my king, You’d just made your judgment silently, Without all this public display.
How could that be? Either thou art most ignorant by age, Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight, Added to their familiarity, Which was as gross as ever touch’d conjecture, That lack’d sight only, nought for approbation But only seeing, all other circumstances Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding: Yet, for a greater confirmation, For in an act of this importance ’twere Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch’d in post To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know Of stuff’d sufficiency: now from the oracle They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had, Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?
How could that have worked? Either you’re too old and don’t know any better, Or you’ve always been a fool. Camillo’s flight, Along with their close relationship, Which was as obvious as any guess could be, That lacked only the sight to confirm it, and nothing more was needed Except seeing it—everything else added up to the facts, pushing me to this action: Yet, to make it even clearer, For something as important as this it would be Foolish to act without confirmation, I’ve sent a messenger To Delphi, to Apollo’s temple, With Cleomenes and Dion, who you know Are trustworthy men: now from the oracle They’ll bring everything; whatever the oracle says, Will either stop or push me forward. Have I done the right thing?
Well done, my lord.
Well done, my lord.
Though I am satisfied and need no more Than what I know, yet shall the oracle Give rest to the minds of others, such as he Whose ignorant credulity will not Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good From our free person she should be confined, Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; We are to speak in public; for this business Will raise us all.
Even though I’m sure and don’t need anything else But what I know, still the oracle Will calm the minds of others, like those Whose foolish faith can’t Reach the truth. So we think it’s best That she be confined by us, Lest the treachery of the two who fled Be left for her to carry out. Come, follow us; We need to speak in public; this issue Will raise everyone’s concerns.
[Aside] To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth were known.
[Aside] This will be laughable, if the real truth comes out.