The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 234
and dance, I must seek other things.
DUKE SENIOR
Stay, Jaques, stay.
Stay with us, Jacques.
JAQUES
To see no pastime I what you would have
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.
I would rather not see such fun, but I will
stay at your cave if you need me.
Exit
DUKE SENIOR
Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,
As we do trust they'll end, in true delights.
Let’s go on, we will begin this ceremony
the way it should end also: with true happiness.
A dance
EPILOGUE
ROSALIND
It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue;
but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord
the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs
no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no
epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes,
and good plays prove the better by the help of good
epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am
neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with
you in the behalf of a good play! I am not
furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not
become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin
with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love
you bear to men, to like as much of this play as
please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love
you bear to women--as I perceive by your simpering,
none of you hates them--that between you and the
women the play may please. If I were a woman I
would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased
me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I
defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good
beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my
kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell.
One doesn’t usually see a woman in the epilogue,
but it is not worse than seeing a man
give the prologue. If it is true that good wine does not
need advertised, then it is also true that a good play does not need
an epilogue. Yet good wine still gets good advertisements
and good plays often are improved with good
epilogues. This is a strange case, then, since
I neither have a good epilogue nor can suggest
that this was a good play! I am not
dressed like a beggar, so begging would not
be attractive for me. My way is to trick you, and I will start
with the women. Women, I command you, for your love
of men, to like as much of this play as you
want. Men, I command you for your love
for women – and I can see by your smiles
that none of you hate them – that the play will
please you as something to share with the women. If I were a woman I
would kiss all of you who have beards and who pleased
me, complexions that were attractive, and breaths that
were not disgusting. And I am sure that all of you who have good
beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my
offer, applaud me farewell when I curtsy to leave.
Exeunt
SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus.
AEGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse.
ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, Twin brothers and sons to Aegion and ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, and Aemelia, but unknown to each other.
DROMIO OF EPHESUS, Twin brothers, and attendants on DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, the two Antipholuses.
BALTHAZAR, a Merchant.
ANGELO, a Goldsmith.
A MERCHANT, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
PINCH, a Schoolmaster and a Conjurer.
AEMILIA, Wife to Aegeon, an Abbess at Ephesus
ADRIANA, Wife to Antipholus of Ephesus
LUCIANA, her Sister. LUCE, her Servant.
Enter DUKE SOLINUS, AEGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants
AEGEON Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fallAnd by the doom of death end woes and all.
Go ahead, Solinus, secure my downfallDoom me to die and end all of my misery.
DUKE SOLINUS Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more;I am not partial to infringe our laws:The enmity and discord which of lateSprung from the rancorous outrage of your dukeTo merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,Who wanting guilders to redeem their livesHave seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods,Excludes all pity from our threatening looks.For, since the mortal and intestine jars'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,It hath in solemn synods been decreedBoth by the Syracusians and ourselves,To admit no traffic to our adverse towns Nay, more,If any born at Ephesus be seenAt any Syracusian marts and fairs;Again: if any Syracusian bornCome to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose,Unless a thousand marks be levied,To quit the penalty and to ransom him.Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;Therefore by law thou art condemned to die.
Merchant of Syracuse, stop pleading with me;I am not the type to bend our laws:The hatred and disagreement which recentlyCame from the bitter outrage of your dukeTo merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,Who wanting money to redeem their livesHave paid their blood for this harsh laws,Leaves no room for pity in our threatening looks.Since the violent and deadly conflicts startedBetween your rebellious countrymen and us,In solemn councils of church it has been decreedBoth by the Syracusians and ourselves,That no one from either town will be allowed in the other. No, more than that,If anyone born in Ephesus is seenAt any Syracusian marts and fairs;Likewise: if anyone who is Syracusian bornComes to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,His goods confiscated for the duke’s disposal,Unless someone can pay a thousand marks,To stop the penalty and ransom him.Your goods, valued at the highest rate,Cannot amount to even a hundred marks;Therefore by law you are condemned to die.
AEGEON Yet this my comfort: when your words are done,My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
At least I have this: when your words are done,My misery will end with the evening sun.
DUKE SOLINUS Well, Syracusian, say in brief the causeWhy thou departed'st from thy native homeAnd for what cause thou camest to Ephesus.
Well, Syracusian, briefly explain the cause ofWhy you left your native homeAnd why you came to Ephesus.
AEGEON A heavier task could not have been imposedThan I to speak my griefs unspeakable:Yet, that the world may witness that my endWas wrought by nature, not by vile offence,I'll utter what my sorrows give me leave.In Syracusa was I born, and wed
You couldn’t have imposed a heavier taskThan to make me speak my unspeakable griefs:Yet, so the world can witness that my deathWas brought about without meaning to offend,I'll utter what I can about my sorrows.In Syracusa was I born, and marriedUnto a woman, happy but for me,And by me, had not our hap been bad.With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased By prosperous voyages I often madeTo Epidamnum; till my factor's deathAnd the great care of goods at random leftDrew me from kind embracements of my spouse:From whom my absence was not six months oldBefore herself, almost at fainting underThe pleasing punishment that women bear,Had made provision for her following meAnd soon and safe arrived where I was.There had she not been long, but she becameA joyful mother of two goodly sons;And, which was strange, the one so like the other,As could not be distinguish'd but by names.That very hour, and in the self-same inn,A meaner woman was deliveredOf such a burden, male twins, both alike:Those,--for their parents were exceeding poor,--I bought and brought up to attend my sons.My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,Made daily motions for our home return:Unwilling I agreed. Alas! too soon,We came aboard.A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,Before the always wind-obeying deepGave any tragic instance of our harm:But longer did we n
ot retain much hope;For what obscured light the heavens did grantDid but convey unto our fearful mindsA doubtful warrant of immediate death;Which though myself would gladly have embraced,Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,Weeping before for what she saw must come,And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,Forced me to seek delays for them and me.And this it was, for other means was none:The sailors sought for safety by our boat,And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:My wife, more careful for the latter-born,Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,Such as seafaring men provide for storms;To him one of the other twins was bound,Whilst I had been like heedful of the other:The children thus disposed, my wife and I,Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;And floating straight, obedient to the stream,Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
To a woman, who was happy until she met me,I could’ve made her happy, had luck been better.With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased By prosperous voyages I often madeTo Epidamnum; till my agent’s deathAnd the burden of caring for the rest of my goodsTook me away from my wife’s embrace:I was not gone six monthsBefore she, about to faint underThe pain of pregnancy,Had made arrangements to follow meAnd soon and safe arrived where I was.Not long afterwards she becameA joyful mother of two twin sons;It was strange, each one so like the other,That the only thing telling them apart was their names.That very hour, and in the self-same inn,A lower-class woman deliveredSimilarly, male twins, both alike:Those,--for their parents were exceedingly poor,-I bought and raised to serve my sons.My wife, extremely proud of two such boys,Begged me daily for our home return:Unwilling, I agreed. Unfortunately, we came aboard too soon.We had sailed a league from Epidamnum,Before the sea that always obeys the windGave any signs of danger:Before too long we had no hope left;The mass covering the light from the heavensMade us, in our fear-stricken stateBelieve that we were facing immediate death;Which I myself would have gladly embraced,But my wife’s ceaseless sobbing,Weeping for what she saw about to happen,And pitiful cries of our beautiful babies,Crying without even understanding what to fear,Forced me to seek a way for us to survive.This is what I did, since I had no other choice:The sailors had all abandoned ship,Taking the safety boats and leaving us to sink:My wife, more concerned for the younger son,Had tied him onto a small spare mast,Such as seafaring men provide for storms;She then tied one of the other twins to him,While I did the same to the remaining two:With the children taken care of, my wife and I,Locking eyes,Fastened ourselves to either end of the mast;And floating straight, obedient to the current,Were carried towards Corinth, or so we thought.At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,Dispersed those vapours that offended us;And by the benefit of his wished light,The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered Two ships from far making amain to us,Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:But ere they came,--O, let me say no more!Gather the sequel by that went before.
After a while the sun, gazing upon the earthDispersed those terrible clouds;And because of his much wished-for light,The seas became calm, and we discovered Two far-off ships coming towards us,One from Corinth the other from Epidaurus:But before they came,-- O, I can’t say any more!You can guess what happened by what I’ve said.
DUKE SOLINUS Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so;For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
No, keep going, old man; don’t leave it like that;We may take pity, though we won’t pardon you.
AEGEON O, had the gods done so, I had not nowWorthily term'd them merciless to us!For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,We were encounterd by a mighty rock;Which being violently borne upon,Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;So that, in this unjust divorce of us,Fortune had left to both of us alikeWhat to delight in, what to sorrow for.Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdenedWith lesser weight but not with lesser woe,Was carried with more speed before the wind;And in our sight they three were taken upBy fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.At length, another ship had seized on us;And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests;And would have reft the fishers of their prey,Had not their bark been very slow of sail;And therefore homeward did they bend their course.Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
O, if only the gods had taken pity, I wouldNot now be rightfully calling them merciless!Because before the ships reached within ten leagues of us,We were met by a huge rock;And since we were moving so fast,It split our ship down the middle;So that, as we were unjustly separated,Fortune had left to each of usSomething to delight in as well as to sorrow for.For her, poor soul! Since she was burdenedWith less weight, but not with less misfortune,Was carried away with more speed by the wind;And I saw her and the babies taken upBy fishermen of Corinth, or so I thought.At length, another ship had reached us;And, knowing who they were lucky to be saving,Were welcoming and took good care of us, their shipwrecked guests;And would have gone to rescue my wife,If their ship hadn’t been so slow to sail;And so they changed course to sail towards home.Now you see how I was severed from my bliss;That because of bad luck my life was prolonged,To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
DUKE SOLINUS And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,Do me the favour to dilate at fullWhat hath befall'n of them and thee till now.
And for the sake of those you lost,Do me the favor to expand your tale, and tell meWhat became of them and you up until now.
AEGEON My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,At eighteen years became inquisitiveAfter his brother: and importuned meThat his attendant--so his case was like,Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name--Might bear him company in the quest of him,Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
My youngest boy, the one I care for the most,At eighteen years old started to wonderAbout his brother: and begged meTo let his attendant—who alsoLost his brother, but at least knew his name-- Go with him in search of their twins,And since I also wanted to see my lost son,I risked losing the one I loved to find the other.Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsoughtOr that or any place that harbours men.But here must end the story of my life;And happy were I in my timely death,Could all my travels warrant me they live.
I spent five years in the furthest parts of Greece,Roaming throughout all of Asia,And, making my way home, came to Ephesus; with no hope of finding, yet unwilling to stop,I will search any place where men live.But here must end the story of my life;And I would be happy that my time has come,If all my travels could prove to me that they live.
DUKE SOLINUS Hapless Aegeon, whom the fates have mark'dTo bear the extremity of dire mishap!Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,Which princes, would they, may not disannul,My soul would sue as advocate for thee.But, though thou art adjudged to the deathAnd passed sentence may not be recall'dBut to our honour's great disparagement,Yet I will favour thee in what I can.Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this dayTo seek thy life by beneficial help:Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die.Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Poor Aegeon, the fates have marked youTo suffer the extremities of terrible misfortune!Now, trust me, if it wasn’t against our laws,Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,Which even princes, if they wanted, could not disobeyMy own soul would support your case.But, though you have been sentenced to death,And passed sentence cannot be taken backWithout greatly discrediting my honor,I will help you in any way I can.Therefore, merchant, I will give you one dayTo seek help to save your life:Try all the friends you have in Ephesus;Beg, borrow, do what you can to make ransom,And live; if you can’t, you are doomed to die.Jailor, take him to your custody.
Jailor I will, my lord.
I will, my lord.
AEGEON Hopeless and helpless dot
h AEgeon wend,But to procrastinate his lifeless end.
I will go, hopeless and helpless,Only putting off my death.
Exeunt
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO of Syracuse, and FIRST MERCHANT
FIRST MERCHANTTherefore give out you are of Epidamnum,Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.This very day a Syracusian merchantIs apprehended for arrival here;And not being able to buy out his lifeAccording to the statute of the town,Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.There is your money that I had to keep.
So tell people you are from Epidamnum,Otherwise they will confiscate your goods.Just today a Syracusian merchantWas apprehended for arriving here;And since he could not pay ransomAccording to the law of the town,He is going to die before sunset.There is your money that I had to keep.
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.Within this hour it will be dinner-time:Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,And then return and sleep within mine inn,For with long travel I am stiff and weary.Get thee away.
Go take it to the Centaur, where we are stayingAnd stay there, Dromio, till I come find you.It will be dinner-time within the hour:Till then I’m going to get to know the town,Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,And then return and sleep at the inn,Since I am stiff and weary from traveling.Go on, get going.
DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Many a man would take you at your word,And go indeed, having so good a mean.
Many men would take that literally,And run off with all the money you just gave me.
Exit
ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE A trusty villain, sir, that very oft,When I am dull with care and melancholy,Lightens my humour with his merry jests.What, will you walk with me about the town,And then go to my inn and dine with me?
What a trustworthy rascal he is, that so often,When I am feeling down, worried or melancholy,Lightens my mood with his merry jokes.Well, will you walk with me about the town,And then go to my inn and dine with me?