The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 502
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend!
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight;
Rather, directly fly.
Everything that can be seen of her is wonderful!
If she has a mind to match,
she is as unique as the Phoenix, and I
have lost my bet. Now I must be bold!
Audacity must be my armour, from head to foot,
or I'll fight as I run like a Parthian;
or even just give up completely.
IMOGEN.
[Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him
accordingly, as you value your trust. LEONATUS.'
So far I read aloud;
But even the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by th' rest and takes it thankfully.
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so
In all that I can do.
‘He is a very noble man, to whom I am deeply
indebted for his kindness. Treat him
accordingly, as you value our vows. Leonatus.’
That's all I will read aloud;
but the deepest places of my heart
are warmed by the rest and are grateful for it.
You are as very welcome, sir, as much as I
have words to express it; you will find the same
in all my actions.
IACHIMO.
Thanks, fairest lady.
What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones
Upon the number'd beach, and can we not
Partition make with spectacles so precious
'Twixt fair and foul?
Thank you, sweetest lady.
What, are men mad? Has nature given them eyes
with which they can see the sky and the rich harvest
of sea and land, that can distinguish between
the stars above and the pebbles
thronging on the beach, and can't we tell
the difference between fair and foul
when we see such wonderful things?
IMOGEN.
What makes your admiration?
What causes you such wonder?
IACHIMO.
It cannot be i' th' eye, for apes and monkeys,
'Twixt two such she's, would chatter this way and
Contemn with mows the other; nor i' th' judgment,
For idiots in this case of favour would
Be wisely definite; nor i' th' appetite;
Sluttery, to such neat excellence opposed,
Should make desire vomit emptiness,
Not so allured to feed.
It can't be a problem with his eye, for apes and monkeys,
given one fair and one foul, would lean this way
and pull faces at the other; it can't be in his judgement,
for even idiots would be able to make their minds up
in this case; it can't be in his desires;
the desire for sluts would turn to loathing
when contrasted with such pretty excellence,
it wouldn't want to be satisfied.
IMOGEN.
What is the matter, trow?
Please, what is the matter?
IACHIMO.
The cloyed will-
That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb,
Longs after for the garbage.
These perverted desires–
passions which never have enough, always
wanting more, they make no distinction between purity
and rubbish.
IMOGEN.
What, dear sir,
Thus raps you? Are you well?
What is it, dear sir,
that upsets you? Are you well?
IACHIMO.
Thanks, madam; well.- Beseech you, sir,
Desire my man's abode where I did leave him.
He's strange and peevish.
Thank you, madam, I am well. Please, sir,
ask my man to wait where I left him.
He is a foreigner and easily upset.
PISANIO.
I was going, sir,
To give him welcome.
Exit
I was just going, sir,
to welcome him.
IMOGEN.
Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
Is my lord still well? Please tell me, is he in good health?
IACHIMO. Well, madam.
He's well, madam.
IMOGEN.
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
Is he happy? I hope he is.
IACHIMO.
Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there
So merry and so gamesome. He is called
the Briton reveller.
He's very happy; there's no other foreigner there
so jolly and full of fun. They call him
the British partier.
IMOGEN.
When he was here
he did incline to sadness, and oft-times
Not knowing why.
When he was here
he was often depressed, often
without knowing why.
IACHIMO.
I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one
An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces
The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton-
Your lord, I mean- laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O,
Can my sides hold, to think that man- who knows
By history, report, or his own proof,
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be- will's free hours languish for
Assured bondage?'
I never saw him unhappy.
He has a Frenchman as his friend, an
eminent gentleman who, it seems, is very much in love
with a French girl at home. He burns
with great sighs; while the jolly Briton–
your lord, I mean–splits his sides laughing, cries
‘oh, can my sides hold, to think that a man–who knows
through history, report, or his own evidence,
what women are like, who can't help being
that way–will waste his bachelor freedom
pining after the slavery of marriage?’
IMOGEN.
Will my lord say so?
Is that what my lord says?
IACHIMO.
Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.
It is a recreation to be by
And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know
Some men are much to blame.
Yes, madam, crying with laughter.
It's good fun to stand by
and hear him mock the Frenchman. But heaven knows
some men are pretty bad.
IMOGEN.
Not he, I hope.
Not him, I hope.
IACHIMO.
Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might
Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much;
In you, which I account his, beyond all talents.
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pity too.
Not him; but still he might be more grateful for what
Heaven has given him. He has been given much in himself;
being given you, whom I count as his, is beyond price.
Whilst I am amazed, I have to pity as well.
IMOGEN.
What do you pity, sir?
What do you pity, sir?
&n
bsp; IACHIMO.
Two creatures heartily.
Two creatures, sincerely.
IMOGEN.
Am I one, sir?
You look on me: what wreck discern you in me
Deserves your pity?
Am I one of them, sir?
You look at me; what misfortune do you see in me
that deserves your pity?
IACHIMO.
Lamentable! What,
To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
I' th' dungeon by a snuff?
Terrible!What,
do I have to hide from the warm sun and console
myself in a dungeon with a stub of candle?
IMOGEN.
I pray you, sir,
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Please, sir,
answer my questions more clearly.
Why do you pity me?
IACHIMO.
That others do,
I was about to say, enjoy your- But
It is an office of the gods to venge it,
Not mine to speak on't.
That's what others do,
I was about to say, enjoy your- but
it is the job of the gods to punish it,
not for me to speak of it.
IMOGEN.
You do seem to know
Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you-
Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
Than to be sure they do; for certainties
Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born- discover to me
What both you spur and stop.
You seem to know
something about me, or my business; please-
since fearing things are wrong is often worse
than being certain that they are; for things that are certain
are either beyond cure, or if discovered in time
they can then be remedied - tell me
what you're wavering over.
IACHIMO.
Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul
To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then,
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood- falsehood as
With labour; then by-peeping in an eye
Base and illustrious as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow- it were fit
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.
If I had this cheek
to place my lips on; this hand, whose touch,
whose every touch, would force the one who felt it
to swear to be loyal; this thing, which
captures my roving eye,
fixing it there; if I then, damned,
kissed tarts who were as open to all as
the steps of the Capitol; held hands with hands
made as hard by their lying as by their
labour; then giving sidelong looks with an eye
as low and lacklustre as a smoky light
fed by stinking candles - then I'd deserve
to be punished by suffering all
the plagues of hell at once.
IMOGEN.
My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.
I fear my lord has forgotten about Britain.
IACHIMO.
And himself. Not I
Inclin'd to this intelligence pronounce
The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces
That from my mutest conscience to my tongue
Charms this report out.
And forgotten himself. I'm not
inclined to tell tales about his
disgraceful behaviour, but your beauty
has charmed my tongue into telling
when my conscience would have stayed silent.
IMOGEN.
Let me hear no more.
I don't want to hear any more.
IACHIMO.
O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart
With pity that doth make me sick! A lady
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,
Would make the great'st king double, to be partner'd
With tomboys hir'd with that self exhibition
Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff
As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd;
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.
Oh dearest soul, your situation is breakingmy heart,
I am sick with pity!That such a wonderful lady,
who, if she was queen of an empire,
would make the greatest king twice as great, is compared
with harlots paid for from the allowance
which your wealth provides!Diseased gamblers,
that take a chance on all the rotting sexual diseases
nature provides in exchange for gold!This sweaty
scum which could poison poison!Take revenge,
or your mother was no queen, and you
won't live up to your great ancestry.
IMOGEN.
Reveng'd?
How should I be reveng'd? If this be true-
As I have such a heart that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse- if it be true,
How should I be reveng'd?
Take revenge?
What revenge should I have?If this is true-
I mustn't rush to break my heart with what
my ears have heard - if it is true,
how should I get revenge?
IACHIMO.
Should he make me
Live like Diana's priest betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despite, upon your purse -Revenge it.
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close as sure.
Should I have to live
like a celibate priest between cold sheets,
while he goes leaping on loose women,
in spite of you, at your expense - take revenge.
I offer myself for your sweet pleasure,
I'm more noble than that runaway from your bed,
and I'll be loyal to your love,
steadfast and true.
IMOGEN.
What ho, Pisanio!
Hello, Pisanio!
IACHIMO.
Let me my service tender on your lips.
Let me kiss you.
IMOGEN. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far
From thy report as thou from honour; and
Solicits here a lady that disdains
Thee and the devil alike.- What ho, Pisanio!-
The King my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit
A saucy stranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter who
He not respects at all.- What ho, Pisanio!
Get out!I hate my ears for having
listened to you for so long.If you were ho
nourable,
you would have told this tale out of virtue,
not to try and get what you're after, so low, so horrid.
You are slandering a gentleman who is as far away
from your description as you are from honour; and
you're trying to seduce a lady who hates
you and the devil equally.Hello there, Pisanio!
My father the King shall be informed
of your assault.If he thinks it's acceptable
to welcome a randy stranger to his court
who behaves as if he was in a Roman slum,
showing his filthy mind to us, then he doesn't
care about his court or respect his daughter.
Hello there, Pisanio!
IACHIMO.
O happy Leonatus! I may say
The credit that thy lady hath of thee
Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
Her assur'd credit. Blessed live you long,
A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord
That which he is new o'er; and he is one
The truest manner'd, such a holy witch
That he enchants societies into him,
Half all men's hearts are his.
Oh lucky Leonatus!I may say
that the lady deserves the faith
you have in her, and your great integrity
makes you deserve her.May you have a long and blessed life,
as wife of the worthiest man your country
ever produced!With you as his mistress, only
suitable for the very best!Forgive me.
I spoke like this to discover if your love
was deeply rooted and was worthy
of your lord; and he is one of the
most noble, such a holy enchanter