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Modern English
See, ho! who is that there?
Look, who’s that over there?
It is the Lord AEneas.
It’s Lord Aeneas.
Is the prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
Is the prince here in person? If I had as much reason to stay in bed As you, Prince Paris, nothing but important business Would keep me from being with my companion.
That’s my mind too. Good morrow, Lord AEneas.
That’s what I think too. Good morning, Lord Aeneas.
A valiant Greek, AEneas,--take his hand,-- Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field.
A brave Greek, Aeneas—take his hand— Remember when you told us about Diomedes, How for a whole week he chased you on the battlefield.
Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce; But when I meet you arm’d, as black defiance As heart can think or courage execute.
Good health to you, brave sir, As long as we’re observing the truce; But when I meet you armed, as hostile as can be, Ready to challenge with all your heart and strength.
The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health! But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I’ll play the hunter for thy life With all my force, pursuit and policy.
The two Diomedes greet each other. Our anger is calmed for now, so let’s wish each other well! But when we meet in battle, by Jove, I’ll hunt you down With all my strength, speed, and strategy.
And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises’ life, Welcome, indeed! By Venus’ hand I swear, No man alive can love in such a sort The thing he means to kill more excellently.
And you’ll be hunting a lion that runs backwards. In a spirit of friendly kindness, Welcome to Troy! Now, by the life of Anchises, Welcome, truly! By Venus’ hand I swear, No man can love the thing he’s about to kill more deeply than this.
We sympathize: Jove, let AEneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow!
We understand each other: Jove, let Aeneas live, If his fate isn’t to meet glory at my sword, For a thousand full revolutions of the sun! But in my pride, let him die, With every part of him wounded, and that tomorrow!
We know each other well.
We know each other well.
We do; and long to know each other worse.
We do; and we look forward to knowing each other even less.
This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e’er I heard of. What business, lord, so early?
This is the most insulting friendly greeting, The noblest hateful love I’ve ever heard of. What brings you here so early, my lord?
I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.
I was called to the king, but why, I’m not sure.
His purpose meets you: ’twas to bring this Greek To Calchas’ house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid: Let’s have your company, or, if you please, Haste there before us: I constantly do think-- Or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge-- My brother Troilus lodges there to-night: Rouse him and give him note of our approach. With the whole quality wherefore: I fear We shall be much unwelcome.
His plan is to bring this Greek To Calchas’ house, and there give him, In exchange for the freed Antenor, the beautiful Cressida. Let’s go with you, or if you prefer, Hurry ahead of us: I truly believe— Or rather, I know for sure— My brother Troilus is staying there tonight: Wake him up and let him know we’re coming. With all the reasons why: I fear We’ll be very unwelcome.
That I assure you: Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece Than Cressid borne from Troy.
I assure you of that: Troilus would rather Troy be carried off to Greece Than Cressida be taken from Troy.
There is no help; The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord; we’ll follow you.
There’s no avoiding it; The harsh nature of the times Will make it happen. Come on, my lord; we’ll follow you.
Good morrow, all.
Good morning, everyone.
And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, Myself or Menelaus?
And tell me, noble Diomed, honestly, tell me the truth, Even in the spirit of good friendship, Who, in your opinion, deserves Helen more, Myself or Menelaus?
Both alike: He merits well to have her, that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge, And you as well to keep her, that defend her, Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends: He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins Are pleased to breed out your inheritors: Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore.
Both equally: He deserves her who seeks her, Without any hesitation about her dishonor, Enduring such a hell of pain and cost, And you deserve her too, for defending her, Not caring about the shame of her dishonor, With such a great loss of wealth and friends: He, like a pathetic cuckold, would accept The leftovers and scraps of a tame woman; You, like a lecher, are happy to father children From an unworthy woman’s body: Both of you deserve her, neither more nor less; But he is heavier, because of a whore.
You are too bitter to your countrywoman.
You are too harsh on your fellow countrywoman.
She’s bitter to her country: hear me, Paris: For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight, A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, She hath not given so many good words breath As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer’d death.
She’s harsh on her country: listen to me, Paris: For every false drop of blood in her tainted veins, A Greek has died; for every stain On her corrupted body, A Trojan has been killed: since she started speaking, She hasn’t uttered as many good words As the number of Greeks and Trojans who’ve died.
Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: But we in silence hold this virtue well, We’ll but commend what we intend to sell. Here lies our way.
Fair Diomed, you do what traders do, Criticize the very thing you want to buy: But we keep this virtue in silence, We only praise what we want to sell. Here is our way.