The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (387 page)

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUSAre you there, wife? you might have come before.

Is that you, wife? you should have come much sooner.

ADRIANA [Within] Your wife, sir knave! go get you from the door.

[Within] Your wife, stupid! go on get out of here.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS If you went in pain, master, this 'knave' would go sore.

If you get punished, master, I’m going to get it even worse.

ANGELO Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have either.

There seems to be no food here, sir, nor welcome: looks like we won’t be getting any.

BALTHAZAR In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.

BALTHAZAR And after all that talk of which was best, we’ll have to leave without either.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither.

They are just standing at the door, master; tell them they are welcome here.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUSThere is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.

There is something strange in the wind that is keeping us from getting in.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS You would say so, master, if your garments were thin.Your cake there is warm within; you stand here in the cold:It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.

You’d definitely be saying that, master, if your clothes were as thin as mine.The food inside is warm; you stand here in the cold:It would make another man mad as a buck, to be betrayed like this.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUSGo fetch me something: I'll break ope the gate.

Go fetch me something: I'll break open the gate.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.

[Within] Break anything here, and I'll break your fool’s head in.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind,Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.

A man may break words with you, sir, and words are only wind,So, get ready for me to break wind right in your face.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] It seems thou want'st breaking: out upon thee, hind!

[Within] You’re just begging to be broken: scram, you dog!

DROMIO OF EPHESUS Here's too much 'out upon thee!' I pray thee,let me in.

I sick of all this 'scram! get out!’ Come on, please, let me in.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Sure, when birds have no feathers and fish have no fins.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Well, I'll break in: go borrow me a crow.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Well, I'll break in: go find me a crow.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS A crow without feather? Master, mean you so?For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather;If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS You mean a crow without feathers? For real?To prove that there’s fish without fins and birds without feathers;If that’s what it takes to get in, you dirty slave, you and I will have a score to settle.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUSGo get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow.

No, idiot, go and get me a crowbar.

BALTHAZAR Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so!Herein you war against your reputationAnd draw within the compass of suspectThe unviolated honour of your wife.Once this,--your long experience of her wisdom,Her sober virtue, years and modesty,Plead on her part some cause to you unknown:And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuseWhy at this time the doors are made against you.Be ruled by me: depart in patience,And let us to the Tiger all to dinner,And about evening come yourself aloneTo know the reason of this strange restraint.If by strong hand you offer to break inNow in the stirring passage of the day,A vulgar comment will be made of it,And that supposed by the common routAgainst your yet ungalled estimationThat may with foul intrusion enter inAnd dwell upon your grave when you are dead;For slander lives upon succession,For ever housed where it gets possession.

Have patience, sir; O, please don’t do this!You’re going to ruin your reputationAnd bring your wife into suspicionThough her honor is as of yet untarnished.Listen— you have a lot of experience with her,Her wisdom, virtues, maturity and modesty,  She must have a reason that you don’t know:Do not doubt that she will explain laterWhy your doors are closed to you.Take my advice: let’s just leave patiently,And all go out to the Tiger for dinner,And when evening falls you come back aloneTo find out the reason for this strange lockout.If you threaten brute force to break inNow when everyone is out about town,Someone will see and make a vulgar comment,And the common people will make assumptionsAgainst your currently flawless reputationThat may end up contaminatingAnd defiling your grave when you are dead;Since slander lives through succession,and will stay with your family forever.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You have prevailed: I will depart in quiet,And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.I know a wench of excellent discourse,Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle:There will we dine. This woman that I mean,My wife--but, I protest, without desert--Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:To her will we to dinner.

You win: I will leave quietly,And, though I’m upset I’ll try to be happy.I know a wench with charming conversation,Pretty and witty; wild, but also gentle:We’ll dine with her. This woman,My wife—even though I deny it to no avail--has often accused me of being unfaithful with:We will go dine with her.

To Angelo

To Angelo

Get you homeAnd fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made:Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine;For there's the house: that chain will I bestow--Be it for nothing but to spite my wife--Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste.Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.

Go to your houseAnd fetch the chain; by now I know it’s done:Bring it, please, to the Porpentine;That’s where she is: I’ll give the chain—  Just to spite my wife--To the hostess there: go quickly, good sir.Since my own doors are closed to me,I'll knock elsewhere and see if they turn me away.

ANGELO I'll meet you at that place some hour hence.

ANGELO I'll meet you at that place in about an hour.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense.

Do it. This prank is going to be expensive.

Exeunt

Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse 

LUCIANA And may it be that you have quite forgotA husband's office? shall, Antipholus.Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?If you did wed my sister for her wealth,Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness:Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:Let not my sister read it in your eye;Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;Look sweet, be fair, become disloyalty;Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger;Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?What simple thief brags of his own attaint?'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bedAnd let her read it in thy looks at board:Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.Alas, poor women! make us but believe,Being compact of credit, that you love us;Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;We in your motion turn and you may move us.Then, gentle brother, get you in again;Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

Could it be that you have completely forgottenA husband's duties? Will you, Antipholus.Even in the spring of your love, let it rot?Will your love be ruined as it grows?If you married my sister for her money,Then even just for her money treat her better than this:Or if you are seeing someone else, be stealthy;Muffle your false love by acting like you are blind and ignorant:Don’t let my sister see it in your eyes;Don’t let your tongue tell your shame;Look sweet, be kind, make disloyalty look good;Make your misconduct look virtuous;At least act like you are a good person, though your heart is tainted;Teach your sin to look holy;Be secretive, lie: why does she have to know?Does a simple thief brag of the things he stole?It’s twice as bad, to be unfaithful to your wife And then to let her see it on your face:Shame’s bastard is fame, which can be managed;Bad deeds are made worse by speaking of them.Alas, poor women! we believe when you say,being so trusting, that you love us;You have someone else on your arm, and we get the sleeve; we move however you want.So, gentle brother, please come to your senses;Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:It can be holy to lie,If it’s a sweet lie that hides an awful truth.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Sweet mistress--what your name is else, I know not,Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,--Less in your knowledge and your grace you show notThan our earth's wonder, more than earth divine.Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit,Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,The folded meaning of your words' deceit.Against my soul's pure truth why labour youTo make it wander in an unknown field?Are you a god? would you create me new?Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield.But if that I am I, then well I knowYour weeping sister is no wife of mine,Nor to her bed no homage do I owe

Sweet mistress—I don’t know what else to call you,Or how you seem to know my name,--You have more knowledge and are more  gracefulThan the earth is wonderful and divine.Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;Show me in my vain and flawed understanding,Covered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,The hidden meaning behind your words.Against my soul's pure truth why are you tryingTo make it wander in an unknown field?Are you a god? are you recreating me?Transform me then, I'll yield to your power.But if I am really me, then I know very wellYour weeping sister is no wife of mine,Nor do I owe any homage to her bed
 

Far more, far more to you do I decline.O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears:Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote:Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,And in that glorious supposition thinkHe gains by death that hath such means to die:Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
I am far, far more inclined towards you.O, don’t make me, sweet mermaid, with your song, drown in your sister's flood of tears:Sing, siren, for me to choose you and I will:Spread your golden hairs over the silver waves,And I will lie on them like a bed,And in that glorious position thinkThat any man would be lucky to die there:Let Love, being truth, be drowned if I lie!

LUCIANA What, are you mad, that you do reason so?

What, have you gone crazy, talking like this?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
Not crazy, but in love; I don’t know how.

LUCIANA It is a fault that springeth from your eye.

It is your eyes playing tricks on you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
From gazing at you, shining like the sun.

LUCIANA Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.

Gaze where you’re supposed to, and that will clear your sight.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
I would rather close my eyes, sweet love, than look at the darkness of night.

LUCIANA Why call you me love? call my sister so.

Why do you call me “love”? call my sister that.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thy sister's sister.
Your sister’s sister.

LUCIANA That's my sister.

That's my sister.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE  No;It is thyself, mine own self's better part,Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart,My food, my fortune and my sweet hope's aim,My sole earth's heaven and my heaven's claim.
No;

It is you, my own self's better half,My clearer eye, my heart’s love,My food, my fortune and my dearest dream,My heaven on this earth, and my key to heaven.

LUCIANA All this my sister is, or else should be.

My sister is all of that, or she should be.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE  Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee.Thee will I love and with thee lead my life:Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife.Give me thy hand.
Call yourself sister, sweet, for I am you.I love you, I want to spend my life with you:You have no husband yet, I have no wife.Marry me.