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Sir, you have done enough, and have perform’d A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, Which you have not redeem’d; indeed, paid down More penitence than done trespass: at the last, Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself.
Sir, you’ve done enough, and shown great sorrow: no mistake you made, That you haven’t fixed; in fact, you’ve paid for it More than the wrong you did: in the end, Do as the heavens have done, forget your sins; Forgive yourself as they do.
Whilst I remember Her and her virtues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them, and so still think of The wrong I did myself; which was so much, That heirless it hath made my kingdom and Destroy’d the sweet’st companion that e’er man Bred his hopes out of.
As long as I remember Her and her virtues, I can’t forget My flaws within them, and I still think about The harm I did myself; it was so much, That without an heir, it ruined my kingdom and Destroyed the sweetest companion anyone Could have hoped for.
True, too true, my lord: If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or from the all that are took something good, To make a perfect woman, she you kill’d Would be unparallel’d.
True, too true, my lord: If you had married every woman in the world, Or taken the best parts from all, to make a perfect woman, The one you killed Would still be unmatched.
I think so. Kill’d! She I kill’d! I did so: but thou strikest me Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now, Say so but seldom.
I think so. Killed! She I killed! I did: but you wound me Deeply, saying it; it tastes as bitter On your tongue as it does in my mind: now, please, Say it less often.
Not at all, good lady: You might have spoken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit and graced Your kindness better.
Not at all, good lady: You could have said a thousand things that would Have helped more and made you seem kinder.
You are one of those Would have him wed again.
You are one of those Who would have him marry again.
If you would not so, You pity not the state, nor the remembrance Of his most sovereign name; consider little What dangers, by his highness’ fail of issue, May drop upon his kingdom and devour Incertain lookers on. What were more holy Than to rejoice the former queen is well? What holier than, for royalty’s repair, For present comfort and for future good, To bless the bed of majesty again With a sweet fellow to’t?
If you wouldn’t want that, You don’t care about the state, nor the memory Of his great name; think of the dangers, if he doesn’t have an heir, That could fall on his kingdom and destroy Those who are watching. What’s holier Than celebrating that the former queen is well? What’s better for the kingdom’s future, To bless the royal bed again With a worthy partner?
There is none worthy, Respecting her that’s gone. Besides, the gods Will have fulfill’d their secret purposes; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is’t not the tenor of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found? which that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant. ’Tis your counsel My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills.
No one is worthy, When comparing to her who’s gone. Besides, the gods Will fulfill their secret plans; Didn’t the great Apollo say, Isn’t it written in his prophecy, That King Leontes won’t have an heir Until his lost child is found? And that it will happen Is as unbelievable to us as my Antigonus coming back To me; who, I swear, Died with the child. It’s your advice That goes against the will of the heavens, Opposing their plan.
Care not for issue; The crown will find an heir: great Alexander Left his to the worthiest; so his successor Was like to be the best.
Don’t worry about an heir; The crown will find one: great Alexander Left his to the most deserving; so his successor Was likely to be the best.
Good Paulina, Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour, O, that ever I Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now, I might have look’d upon my queen’s full eyes, Have taken treasure from her lips--
Good Paulina, Who has the memory of Hermione, I wish I had always followed your advice! Then, even now, I could have looked into my queen’s eyes, And taken treasure from her lips--
And left them More rich for what they yielded.
And left them Richer for what they gave.
Thou speak’st truth. No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse, And better used, would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, Where we’re offenders now, appear soul-vex’d, And begin, ’Why to me?’
You speak the truth. No more wives like that; therefore, no wife: one worse, And treated better, would make her spirit come back And haunt this stage, Where we stand as offenders, and say, ‘Why me?’
Had she such power, She had just cause.
If she had that kind of power, She would have had a good reason.
She had; and would incense me To murder her I married.
She did; and she would make me angry To the point of wanting to kill the woman I married.
I should so. Were I the ghost that walk’d, I’ld bid you mark Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in’t You chose her; then I’ld shriek, that even your ears Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow’d Should be ’Remember mine.’
I would do the same. If I were the ghost who walked around, I’d tell you to look at Her eyes, and tell me what dull part of you Chose her. Then I’d scream, so loudly that even your ears Would crack from hearing me. The words that followed Would be “Remember me.”
Stars, stars, And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife; I’ll have no wife, Paulina.
Stars, stars, And all other eyes are like dead embers! Don’t be afraid of any wife; I don’t want a wife, Paulina.
Will you swear Never to marry but by my free leave?
Will you swear Never to marry again without my permission?
Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit!
I swear, Paulina; may my spirit be blessed!
Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
Then, good lords, be witnesses to his vow.
You tempt him over-much.
You’re pushing him too hard.
Unless another, As like Hermione as is her picture, Affront his eye.
Unless another woman, Who looks as much like Hermione as her portrait does, Confronts him.
Good madam,--
Good madam,--
I have done. Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir, No remedy, but you will,--give me the office To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young As was your former; but she shall be such As, walk’d your first queen’s ghost, it should take joy To see her in your arms.
I’m finished. But if my lord insists on marrying,--if you really want to, sir, There’s no stopping you,--give me the authority To choose a queen for you: she won’t be as young As your first one was; but she’ll be someone Who, if she saw your first queen’s ghost walking, Would feel joy To see her in your arms.
My true Paulina, We shall not marry till thou bid’st us.
My true Paulina, We won’t marry until you tell us to.
That Shall be when your first queen’s again in breath; Never till then.
That Will only happen when your first queen is alive again; Not until then.
One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access To your high presence.
A man who claims to be Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, along with his princess, who is The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, requests to meet With your highness.
What with him? he comes not Like to his father’s greatness: his approach, So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us ’Tis not a visitation framed, but forced By need and accident. What train?
What does he want? He doesn’t come In a manner fitting his father’s rank: his arrival, So unexpected and out of the blue, suggests that This is not a planned visit, but one forced By necessity and chance. What retinue does he have?
But few, And those but mean.
There are few, And those few are lowborn.
His princess, say you, with him?
You say his princess is with him?
Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, That e’er the sun shone bright on.
Yes, the most perfect woman on earth, I think, That the sun has ever shone on.
O Hermione, As every present time doth boast itself Above a better gone, so must thy grave Give way to what’s seen now! Sir, you yourself Have said and writ so, but your writing now Is colder than that theme, ’She had not been, Nor was not to be equall’d;’--thus your verse Flow’d with her beauty once: ’tis shrewdly ebb’d, To say you have seen a better.
Oh Hermione, Just like how people always think the present is better Than what came before, so your grave Must make way for what’s happening now! Sir, you yourself Have said and written this, but now your writing Seems colder than when you said, ’She was unmatched,’ Your poetry once flowed with her beauty: now it’s dried up, To say you’ve seen someone better.
Pardon, madam: The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,-- The other, when she has obtain’d your eye, Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Of all professors else, make proselytes Of who she but bid follow.
Forgive me, madam: I almost forgot the first one,--your pardon,-- The other, when she has caught your attention, Will have you speaking highly of her too. She’s such a woman, If she started a movement, she could stop the passion Of all other teachers, making followers Of anyone she asked to.
How! not women?
What! not women?
Women will love her, that she is a woman More worth than any man; men, that she is The rarest of all women.
Women will love her, for she’s a woman Who is worth more than any man; men, because she’s The rarest of all women.
Go, Cleomenes; Yourself, assisted with your honour’d friends, Bring them to our embracement. Still, ’tis strange
Go, Cleomenes; You and your honoured friends, Bring them here to us. Still, it’s strange
He thus should steal upon us.
He should have come to us in this way.
Had our prince, Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair’d Well with this lord: there was not full a month Between their births.
Had our prince, The jewel of children, seen this moment, he would have matched Well with this lord: there was not a month Between their births.
Prithee, no more; cease; thou know’st He dies to me again when talk’d of: sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that which may Unfurnish me of reason. They are come.
Please, no more; stop; you know He dies to me again when he’s mentioned: I’m sure, When I see this gentleman, your words Will make me think of things that might Confuse me. They’ve arrived.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; For she did print your royal father off, Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, Your father’s image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him, and speak of something wildly By us perform’d before. Most dearly welcome! And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas! I lost a couple, that ’twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood begetting wonder as You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost-- All mine own folly--the society, Amity too, of your brave father, whom, Though bearing misery, I desire my life Once more to look on him.
Your mother was so true to marriage, prince; She made your royal father proud, Conceiving you: if I were only twenty-one, Your father’s likeness is so clear in you, His very presence, that I would call you brother, Just as I did him, and speak of something wild That we did together. Most warmly welcome! And your beautiful princess,--goddess!--Oh, alas! I lost a pair, who between heaven and earth Could have created as much wonder as You two, gracious couple, do: and then I lost-- All my own foolishness--the friendship, And the company too, of your noble father, whom, Though he bore suffering, I wish I could see again in my life.
By his command Have I here touch’d Sicilia and from him Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, Can send his brother: and, but infirmity Which waits upon worn times hath something seized His wish’d ability, he had himself The lands and waters ’twixt your throne and his Measured to look upon you; whom he loves-- He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres And those that bear them living.
By his command I have touched down in Sicilia and from him Send you all the greetings that a king, as a friend, Would send his brother: and, though age Has weakened him a bit, he still wished To measure the lands and waters between your throne and his To come and see you; whom he loves-- He told me to say that--more than all the scepters And those who hold them while alive.
O my brother, Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me, and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither, As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, To greet a man not worth her pains, much less The adventure of her person?
Oh my brother, Good man! the wrongs I’ve done to you stir Again within me, and these acts of kindness, So rare, show how far behind I’ve been. Welcome here, As spring welcomes the earth. And has he too Exposed this perfect woman to the harsh treatment, At least unkind, of the terrible sea god, To greet a man who doesn’t deserve her efforts, much less The risk of her life?
Good my lord, She came from Libya.
Good my lord, She came from Libya.
Where the warlike Smalus, That noble honour’d lord, is fear’d and loved?
Where the warlike Smalus, That noble honoured lord, is feared and loved?
Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter His tears proclaim’d his, parting with her: thence, A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross’d, To execute the charge my father gave me For visiting your highness: my best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss’d; Who for Bohemia bend, to signify Not only my success in Libya, sir, But my arrival and my wife’s in safety Here where we are.
Most royal sir, from there; from him, whose daughter His tears showed his, parting with her: from there, A favorable south wind, we have crossed, To carry out the mission my father gave me To visit your highness: my best company I’ve sent away from your Sicilian shores; They are heading for Bohemia, to let you know Not only of my success in Libya, sir, But also that my wife and I have arrived safely Here where we are.
The blessed gods Purge all infection from our air whilst you Do climate here! You have a holy father, A graceful gentleman; against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have done sin: For which the heavens, taking angry note, Have left me issueless; and your father’s blest, As he from heaven merits it, with you Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, Might I a son and daughter now have look’d on, Such goodly things as you!
May the blessed gods Clear all infection from our air while you Stay here! You have a holy father, A gracious gentleman; against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have sinned: For which the heavens, taking angry note, Have left me without children; and your father’s blessed, As he deserves it from heaven, with you Worthy of his goodness. What might I have been, Had I now seen a son and daughter, Such goodly things as you!
Most noble sir, That which I shall report will bear no credit, Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, Bohemia greets you from himself by me; Desires you to attach his son, who has-- His dignity and duty both cast off-- Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd’s daughter.
Most noble sir, What I’m about to report won’t be believed, Unless the proof is so close. Please, great sir, Bohemia greets you through me; He asks you to capture his son, who has-- Cast off both his dignity and his duty-- Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd’s daughter.
Where’s Bohemia? speak.
Where is Bohemia? Speak.
Here in your city; I now came from him: I speak amazedly; and it becomes My marvel and my message. To your court Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple, meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince.
Here in your city; I’ve just come from him: I speak in surprise; and it fits My astonishment and my message. On his way To your court, while he was rushing, it seems, After this beautiful couple, he met The father of this lady and Her brother, both having left their country Along with this young prince.
Camillo has betray’d me; Whose honour and whose honesty till now Endured all weathers.
Camillo has betrayed me; His honour and honesty until now Endured all hardships.
Lay’t so to his charge: He’s with the king your father.
Blame him for it: He’s with your father, the king.
Who? Camillo?
Who? Camillo?
Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now Has these poor men in question. Never saw I Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth; Forswear themselves as often as they speak: Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them With divers deaths in death.
Camillo, sir; I spoke with him; he now Has these poor men under suspicion. Never have I Seen wretches quake so: they kneel, they kiss the ground; They deny everything they say: Bohemia covers his ears, and threatens them With various deaths, in death.
O my poor father! The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have Our contract celebrated.
Oh my poor father! Heaven watches us, will not allow Our marriage to be celebrated.
You are married?
You’re married?
We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: The odds for high and low’s alike.
We are not, sir, nor do we intend to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: The odds for high and low are the same.
My lord, Is this the daughter of a king?
My lord, Is this the daughter of a king?
She is, When once she is my wife.
She is, When she becomes my wife.
That ’once’ I see by your good father’s speed Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, Most sorry, you have broken from his liking Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, That you might well enjoy her.
That "once" I can see, judging by your good father’s pace, Will take a long time. I am sorry, Very sorry that you’ve gone against his wishes, When you were bound to obey him, and I’m sorry, Your choice isn’t as rich in value as it is in beauty, So that you could truly enjoy her.
Dear, look up: Though Fortune, visible an enemy, Should chase us with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir, Remember since you owed no more to time Than I do now: with thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles.
Sir, please look up: Even if Fortune, clearly our enemy, Should chase us with my father, she has no power To change our love. Please, sir, Remember, you owed nothing to time More than I do now: with thoughts of such feelings, Step forward as my advocate; at your request My father will give precious things that are as insignificant as trinkets.
Would he do so, I’ld beg your precious mistress, Which he counts but a trifle.
If he would do that, I’d beg for your dear mistress, Which he sees as just a trinket.
Sir, my liege, Your eye hath too much youth in’t: not a month ’Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now.
Sir, my lord, Your eyes have too much youth in them: not a month Before your queen died, she was worth such gazes More than what you’re looking at now.
I thought of her, Even in these looks I made.
I thought about her, Even while making these looks.
But your petition Is yet unanswer’d. I will to your father: Your honour not o’erthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you: upon which errand I now go toward him; therefore follow me And mark what way I make: come, good my lord.
But your request Has still not been answered. I will go to your father: Your honor won’t be ruined by your desires, I’m a friend to both you and them: so I’ll now go to him; Therefore, follow me, And watch which way I go: come, good lord.