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Modern English
Be moderate, be moderate.
Be calm, be calm.
Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affection, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief. My love admits no qualifying dross; No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Why are you telling me to be calm? The grief I feel is intense, complete, perfect, And it affects me just as strongly As the cause of it: how can I calm it? If I could delay my feelings, Or make them weaker, less intense, Then maybe I could ease my grief. But my love doesn’t allow for any compromise; And neither does my grief, in such a devastating loss.
Here, here, here he comes.
Here, here, here he comes.
Ah, sweet ducks!
Ah, sweethearts!
O Troilus! Troilus!
Oh Troilus! Troilus!
What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. ’O heart,’ as the goodly saying is, ’--O heart, heavy heart, Why sigh’st thou without breaking? where he answers again, ’Because thou canst not ease thy smart By friendship nor by speaking.’ There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs?
What a pair of spectacles this is! Let me hug you too. ’Oh heart,’ as the saying goes, ’Oh heart, heavy heart, Why do you sigh without breaking? Where he answers again, ’Because you can’t stop your pain With friendship or talking.’ There was never a truer saying. Let’s not throw anything away, because we might need a line like this later: we see it, we see it. What’s going on, lambs?
Cressid, I love thee in so strain’d a purity, That the bless’d gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me.
Cressid, I love you with such pure devotion, That the blessed gods, as if angry with my passion, More shining in their zeal than the cold devotion People show to their gods, should take you from me.
Have the gods envy?
Do the gods feel jealousy?
Ay, ay, ay, ay; ’tis too plain a case.
Yes, yes, yes, yes; it’s too obvious.
And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Is it true that I must leave Troy?
A hateful truth.
A cruel truth.
What, and from Troilus too?
What, leave Troilus too?
From Troy and Troilus.
Yes, leave Troy and leave Troilus.
Is it possible?
Is it possible?
And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock’d embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious time now with a robber’s haste Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign’d kisses to them, He fumbles up into a lose adieu, And scants us with a single famish’d kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
And suddenly; when the wrong timing Interrupts saying goodbye, rushes in roughly, Steals away our words, cuts off our kisses Before they can form, forces us to stop Our locked embraces, chokes our vows Even before we can breathe them out: We, who with so many sighs Bought each other, must now cheaply sell ourselves With the rude quickness of one final parting. Cruel time, now in its rush Packs up its stolen treasure without thinking: As many goodbyes as stars in the sky, With each breath distinct and a kiss for each, He throws them into a careless farewell, And cheats us with a single, starving kiss, Made bitter with the salt of our broken tears.
[Within] My lord, is the lady ready?
[From inside] My lord, is the lady ready?
Hark! you are call’d: some say the Genius so Cries ’come’ to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.
Listen! They’re calling you: some say the Spirit Calls ’come’ to those who must die at once. Tell them to wait; she’ll be here soon.
Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root.
Where are my tears? Rain, to calm this wind, or My heart will be blown apart.
I must then to the Grecians?
So I have to go to the Greeks?
No remedy.
There’s no choice.
A woful Cressid ’mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?
A miserable Cressida among the happy Greeks! When will we see each other again?
Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,--
Listen to me, my love: just be true to me,--
I true! how now! what wicked deem is this?
True! What’s this? What kind of wicked thought is this?
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us: I speak not ’be thou true,’ as fearing thee, For I will throw my glove to Death himself, That there’s no maculation in thy heart: But ’be thou true,’ say I, to fashion in My sequent protestation; be thou true, And I will see thee.
No, we must talk things through gently, Because this is parting from us: I don’t say ‘be true’ because I’m afraid of you, For I would challenge Death himself, That there’s no stain on your heart: But I say ‘be true’ to the idea In my next words; be true, And I’ll come see you.
O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but I’ll be true.
Oh, my lord, you’ll be exposed to dangers As endless as they are threatening! But I’ll be true.
And I’ll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.
And I’ll become friends with danger. Wear this sleeve.
And you this glove. When shall I see you?
And you wear this glove. When will I see you?
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, To give thee nightly visitation. But yet be true.
I’ll bribe the Greek sentries, So you can visit me at night. But still, be true.
O heavens! ’be true’ again!
Oh heavens! ‘Be true’ again!
Hear while I speak it, love: The Grecian youths are full of quality; They’re loving, well composed with gifts of nature, Flowing and swelling o’er with arts and exercise: How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-- Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin-- Makes me afeard.
Listen while I explain, love: The Greek men are full of charm; They’re loving, well-balanced, with natural talents, Overflowing with skills and knowledge: How novelty can excite, and looks can impress, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-- Which, I beg you, call a virtuous sin-- Makes me worried.
O heavens! you love me not.
Oh heavens! You don’t love me.
Die I a villain, then! In this I do not call your faith in question So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant: But I can tell that in each grace of these There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Then let me die a villain! In this, I don’t question your faith in me, As much as I question my own worth: I can’t sing, Nor do the high dances, nor speak sweetly, Don’t play at subtle games; all the good qualities, Which the Greeks are most quick and full of, But I can tell you that in each of these good qualities There hides a quiet and silent devil That tempts us most cleverly: but don’t be tempted.
Do you think I will?
Do you think I will?
No. But something may be done that we will not: And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
No. But sometimes we do things that we don’t want to: And sometimes we’re our own worst enemies, When we test the limits of our strength, Thinking it will stay strong forever.
[Within] Nay, good my lord,--
[From inside] No, good my lord,--
Come, kiss; and let us part.
Come, kiss me; and let’s part.
[Within] Brother Troilus!
[From inside] Brother Troilus!
Good brother, come you hither; And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you.
Good brother, come here; And bring Aeneas and the Greek with you.
My lord, will you be true?
My lord, will you be true?
Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit Is ’plain and true;’ there’s all the reach of it.
Who, me? alas, it’s my weakness, my fault: While others use clever tricks to win admiration, I, with great honesty, catch simple truth; While some use cleverness to decorate their crowns, I wear mine plainly, with honesty. Don’t fear my honesty: the meaning of my words Is ‘simple and true’; that’s all it means.
Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you: At the port, lord, I’ll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword, Name Cressida and thy life shall be as safe As Priam is in Ilion.
Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady Whom we are delivering to you for Antenor: At the port, lord, I’ll give her to you, And along the way, I’ll tell you who she is. Treat her kindly; and, by my soul, fair Greek, If you ever find yourself at the mercy of my sword, Mention Cressida, and your life will be as safe As Priam is in Troy.
Fair Lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Fair Lady Cressida, Please save your thanks for what this prince expects: The shine in your eyes, the beauty in your cheek, Plead for your kind treatment; and to Diomed, You will be the mistress, and command him completely.
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, To shame the zeal of my petition to thee In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises As thou unworthy to be call’d her servant. I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, I’ll cut thy throat.
Greek, you’re not treating me with courtesy, To disgrace my petition by praising her: I tell you, lord of Greece, She is far above your praises, And you are unworthy to be called her servant. I order you to treat her well, even for my sake; For by the fearsome Pluto, if you do not, Even if the great Achilles is guarding you, I’ll slit your throat.
O, be not moved, Prince Troilus: Let me be privileged by my place and message, To be a speaker free; when I am hence I’ll answer to my lust: and know you, lord, I’ll nothing do on charge: to her own worth She shall be prized; but that you say ’be’t so,’ I’ll speak it in my spirit and honour, ’no.’
Oh, don’t be upset, Prince Troilus: Let me be allowed, because of my position and message, To speak freely; when I leave here I’ll answer to my desires: and know this, lord, I’ll do nothing at your command: by her own worth She’ll be valued; but as for what you say, ’let it be so,’ I’ll say with all my heart, ‘no.’
Come, to the port. I’ll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
Come, to the port. I’ll tell you, Diomed, This act of bravery will often make you hide your head. Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk, We will talk to ourselves about our needs.
Hark! Hector’s trumpet.
Listen! Hector’s trumpet.
How have we spent this morning! The prince must think me tardy and remiss, That sore to ride before him to the field.
How have we wasted this morning! The prince must think I’m slow and careless, That I didn’t ride out before him to the battlefield.
’Tis Troilus’ fault: come, come, to field with him.
It’s Troilus’ fault: come on, come on, let’s go to the field with him.
Let us make ready straight.
Let’s get ready right away.
Yea, with a bridegroom’s fresh alacrity, Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels: The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry.
Yes, with the fresh enthusiasm of a bridegroom, Let’s follow quickly behind Hector: The honor of our Troy depends today On his noble worth and singular bravery.