Original
Modern English
When was my lord so much ungently temper’d, To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.
When was my lord ever so harshly angry, To ignore warnings? Take off your armor, take off your armor, and don’t fight today.
You train me to offend you; get you in: By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go!
You’re pushing me to upset you; go inside: By all the gods, I’m going!
My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.
My dreams will surely be a bad omen for today.
No more, I say.
Enough, I say.
Where is my brother Hector?
Where is my brother Hector?
Here, sister; arm’d, and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream’d Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
Here, sister; armed, and ready to spill blood. Join me in a loud and urgent plea, Let’s go after him on our knees; for I’ve dreamed Of bloody chaos, and this whole night Has been nothing but images of murder.
O, ’tis true.
Oh, it’s true.
Ho! bid my trumpet sound!
Hey! Tell my trumpet to sound!
No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother.
No battle signals, for heaven’s sake, sweet brother.
Be gone, I say: the gods have heard me swear.
Go away, I say: the gods have heard me swear.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows: They are polluted offerings, more abhorr’d Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
The gods don’t listen to angry and childish promises: They’re polluted gifts, more hated Than liver spots in a sacrifice.
O, be persuaded! do not count it holy To hurt by being just: it is as lawful, For we would give much, to use violent thefts, And rob in the behalf of charity.
Oh, please listen! Don’t think it’s right To do harm by being fair: it’s just as acceptable, If we were to steal violently, And rob for the sake of charity.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold: Unarm, sweet Hector.
It’s the intention that makes the vow strong; But vows to every cause shouldn’t always stand: Take off your armor, sweet Hector.
Hold you still, I say; Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate: Lie every man holds dear; but the brave man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
Stay quiet, I say; My honor decides my fate: Life is precious to every man, but the brave man Values honor far more than life.
How now, young man! mean’st thou to fight to-day?
What’s this, young man! Do you plan to fight today?
Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
Cassandra, ask my father to persuade him.
No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth; I am to-day i’ the vein of chivalry: Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. Unarm thee, go, and doubt thou not, brave boy, I’ll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy.
No, honestly, young Troilus; take off your armor, boy; I’m in the mood for chivalry today: Let your strength grow until it’s solid, And don’t rush into battle just yet. Take off your armor, go, and don’t worry, brave boy, I’ll fight today for you, for me, and for Troy.
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man.
Brother, you have a weakness for mercy, Which suits a lion better than a man.
What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it.
What weakness is that, good Troilus? Scold me for it.
When many times the captive Grecian falls, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise, and live.
When the captured Greeks fall many times, Even in the wind and sweep of your fine sword, You tell them to get up and live.
O,’tis fair play.
Oh, that’s fair play.
Fool’s play, by heaven, Hector.
Foolish play, by heaven, Hector.
How now! how now!
What now! What now!
For the love of all the gods, Let’s leave the hermit pity with our mothers, And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom’d vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
For the love of all the gods, Let’s leave the pity of monks to our mothers, And when we put on our armor, Let vengeful anger ride on our swords, Spur them to merciless action, and hold them back from mercy.
Fie, savage, fie!
Shame on you, savage, shame!
Hector, then ’tis wars.
Hector, if that’s the case, then it’s war.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day.
Troilus, I don’t want you to fight today.
Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o’ergalled with recourse of tears; Not you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way, But by my ruin.
Who could stop me? Not fate, obedience, or the hand of Mars Calling me back with a fiery weapon; Not Priam and Hecuba on their knees, Their eyes swollen with tears; Not you, my brother, with your sword drawn, Standing in my way, should stop me, Except by my own destruction.
Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast: He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together.
Grab him, Priam, hold him tight: He is your support; if you lose him, You leaning on him, and all of Troy on you, Will fall together.
Come, Hector, come, go back: Thy wife hath dream’d; thy mother hath had visions; Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous: Therefore, come back.
Come, Hector, come, go back: Your wife has dreamed; your mother has had visions; Cassandra can see the future; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly struck To tell you that today is unlucky: So, please, come back.
AEneas is a-field; And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them.
Aeneas is out there; And I have made promises to many Greeks, Even in the spirit of courage, to meet them This morning.
Ay, but thou shalt not go.
Yes, but you must not go.
I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, Let me not shame respect; but give me leave To take that course by your consent and voice, Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.
I cannot break my word. You know me to be dutiful; so, dear sir, Please don’t make me dishonor respect; but allow me To follow the path you’ve forbidden, royal Priam.
O Priam, yield not to him!
Oh Priam, don’t give in to him!
Do not, dear father.
Please, father, don’t.
Andromache, I am offended with you: Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
Andromache, I’m upset with you: For the love you have for me, go inside.
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements.
This silly, superstitious girl Causes all these bad omens.
O, farewell, dear Hector! Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turns pale! Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents! Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out! How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth! Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, Like witless antics, one another meet, And all cry, Hector! Hector’s dead! O Hector!
Oh, goodbye, dear Hector! Look, how you’re dying! Look, how your eye is turning pale! Look, how your wounds are bleeding from many places! Listen, how Troy is shouting! How Hecuba is crying out! How poor Andromache is wailing her sorrows out loud! See, madness, panic, and shock, Like foolish clowns, are meeting each other, And all are shouting, Hector! Hector’s dead! Oh, Hector!
Away! away!
Stop! Stop!
Farewell: yet, soft! Hector! take my leave: Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive.
Goodbye: wait, hold on! Hector! Let me say goodbye: You’re fooling yourself and all of Troy.
You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim: Go in and cheer the town: we’ll forth and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night.
You’re shocked, my king, by her shouting: Go back inside and cheer up the city: we’ll go out and fight, Do heroic deeds and tell you about them later tonight.
Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee!
Goodbye: may the gods keep you safe!
They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
They’re fighting, listen! Proud Diomed, believe me, I’m either going to lose my arm, or win a trophy.
Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear?
What now?
What now?
Here’s a letter come from yond poor girl.
Here’s a letter from that poor girl over there.
Let me read.
Let me read it.
A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl; and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o’ these days: and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell what to think on’t. What says she there?
A troublesome, irritating sickness, a bothersome, despicable sickness, is bothering me, along with the silly fate of this girl; And what one thing, then another, that I’ll be leaving you someday: And I’ve got a tear in my eye too, and such a pain in my bones that, unless a man were cursed, I can’t figure out what to make of it. What does she say in the letter?
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart: The effect doth operate another way.
Words, words, just words, they don’t come from the heart: The outcome works in a different way.
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edifies another with her deeds.
Go, wind, go with the wind, turn and change together. My love is fed by words and mistakes; But she builds up someone else with her actions.