The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (707 page)

Well, well then, as you wish.

Those who stay with you will wish

their enemies were in their place.

HIPPOLYTA

Farewell, sister,

I am like to know your husband ’fore yourself

By some small start of time. He whom the gods

Do of the two know best, I pray them he

Be made your lot.

Farewell, sister.

It seems I will know who your husband is

a little while before you do.  I pray that

you get the one who is most favoured

by the gods.

Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, etc.

EMILIA

Arcite is gently visag’d; yet his eye

Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon

In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage

Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon

Has a most menacing aspect, his brow

Is grav’d, and seems to bury what it frowns on,

Yet sometime ’tis not so, but alters to

The quality of his thoughts; long time his eye

Will dwell upon his object; melancholy

Becomes him nobly. So does Arcite’s mirth,

But Palamon’s sadness is a kind of mirth,

So mingled as if mirth did make him sad,

And sadness merry; those darker humors that

Stick misbecomingly on others, on him

Live in fair dwelling.

Cornets. Trumpets sound as to a charge.

Hark how yon spurs to spirit do incite

The princes to their proof! Arcite may win me,

And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to

The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity

Enough for such a chance? If I were by,

I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes

Toward my seat, and in that motion might

Omit a ward, or forfeit an offense,

Which crav’d that very time. It is much better

I am not there. O, better never born

Than minister to such harm!

Cornets. A great cry and noise within, crying “A Palamon!”

Enter Servant.

What is the chance?

Arcite has a sweet face, but his eye

is like a coiled spring, or a sharp weapon

in a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage

share his face.  Palamon

looks very fierce, his brow

is furrowed, and it seems to want to kill what it frowns at,

but sometimes it isn't, but changes

depending on his thoughts; he will

gaze on his subject for a long time,

sorrow suits him well.  So does Arcite's laughter,

but Palamon's sadness is a kind of laughter,

he's so mixed it's as if laughter makes him sad,

and sadness happy; those dark moods that

look so unpleasant in others

look sweet on him.

Hear how those spirit lifting sounds call

the princes to their test!  Arcite might win me,

but Palamon might wound Arcite in such a way

as to spoil his looks.  That would be an impossibly

pitiful outcome.  If I were near,

I might do harm, because they would glance

towards me, and as they did they might

miss a chance to defend or attack

that was theirs for the taking.  It is much better that

I am not there.  Oh, it would have been better

for me never to be born rather than be the the cause of such harm!

What's happened?

SERV.

The cry’s “A Palamon!”

They're shouting, "For Palamon!"

EMILIA

Then he has won. ’Twas ever likely:

He look’d all grace and success, and he is

Doubtless the prim’st of men. I prithee run

And tell me how it goes.

Then he has won.  It was always likely:

he looked the most graceful and victorious,

and he is surely the greatest of men.  Please run

and tell me what's happened.

Shout and cornets. Crying “A Palamon!” within.

SERV.

Still “Palamon!”

Still "Palamon!"

EMILIA

Run and inquire.

Exit Servant.

Poor servant, thou hast lost.

Upon my right side still I wore thy picture,

Palamon’s on the left. Why so, I know not;

I had no end in’t else; chance would have it so.

On the sinister side the heart lies; Palamon

Had the best-boding chance.

Another cry, and shout within, and cornets.

This burst of clamor

Is sure th’ end o’ th’ combat.

Run and ask.

Poor servant, you have lost.

I carried your picture on my right side,

with Palamon's on the left.  Why I did, I don't know;

I had no other hand in it; that's how fate decreed.

The heart is on the left side; Palamon

had the best chance.

This outburst

surely marks the end of the fight.

Enter Servant.

SERV.

They said that Palamon had Arcite’s body

Within an inch o’ th’ pyramid, that the cry

Was general “A Palamon!”; but anon

Th’ assistants made a brave redemption, and

The two bold titlers at this instant are

Hand to hand at it.

They said that Palamon had Arcite's body

within an inch of the pyramid, and the cry went up,

"Palamon's won!"; but quickly

his seconds saved him, and

the two bold combatants are still

at it, hand to hand.

EMILIA

Were they metamorphis’d

Both into one—O why? There were no woman

Worth so compos’d a man! Their single share,

Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives

The prejudice of disparity, value’s shortness,

To any lady breathing.

Cornets. Cry within, “Arcite, Arcite!”

More exulting?

“Palamon” still?

I wish they could both be made into one man-

Why wish that?  There's no woman

who deserves a man like that! Their individual qualities,

the nobility that's all their own, already

make them far above the value

of any lady alive.

More cheering?

Still "Palamon"?

SERV.

Nay, now the sound is “Arcite.”

No, now they're calling "Arcite".

EMILIA

I prithee lay attention to the cry;

Set both thine ears to th’ business.

Please pay attention to what they're calling;

listen as carefully as you can.

Cornets. A great shout and cry, “Arcite! Victory!”

SERV.

The cry is

“Arcite!” and “victory!” Hark, “Arcite! Victory!”

The combat’s consummation is proclaim’d

By the wind instruments.

They're calling

"Arcite!" and "victory!"  Listen, "Arcite!  Victory!"

The end of the fight is marked

by the trumpets.

EMILIA

Half-sights saw

That Arcite was no babe. God’s lid, his richness

And costliness of spirit look’d through him, it could

No more be hid in him than fire in flax,

Than humble banks can go to law with waters

That drift-winds force to raging. I did think

Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not

Why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets

When oft our fancies are. They are coming off.

Alas, poor Palamon!

Half blind people could see

that Arcite was no child.  I swear, his strength

and wonderful spirit were obvious, it couldn't

be hidden any more than fire in flax,

any more than low banks can keep back the sea

when the storm winds whip it into fury.  I thought

good Palamon would lose, but I don't know why

I thought so.  We often can't logically predict

things our imaginations know.  They are coming away.

Alas, poor Palamon!

Cornets.

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and Attendants, etc.

THESEUS

Lo, where our sister is in expectation,

Yet quaking and unsettled. Fairest Emily,

The gods by their divine arbitrement

Have given you this knight: he is a good one

As ever strook at head. Give me your hands.

Receive you her, you him, be plighted with

A love that grows as you decay.

See where my sister waits expectantly,

but shaking and worried.  Fairest Emily,

the gods have by divine judgment

given you this knight: he is as good a man

as ever struck a blow.  Give me your hands.

You take her, you take him, be joined with

a love that grows as you get older.

ARCITE

Emily,

To buy you I have lost what’s dearest to me

Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheaply,

As I do rate your value.

Emily,

to buy you I have lost what was dearest to me

apart from what I bought, but the price I put on you

makes you a bargain at the price.

THESEUS

O loved sister,

He speaks now of as brave a knight as e’er

Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods

Would have him die a bachelor, lest his race

Should show i’ th’ world too godlike. His behavior

So charm’d me that methought Alcides was

To him a sow of lead. If I could praise

Each part of him to th’ all I have spoke, your Arcite

Did not lose by’t; for he that was thus good

Encount’red yet his better. I have heard

Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o’ th’ night

With their contentious throats, now one the higher,

Anon the other, then again the first,

And by and by out-breasted, that the sense

Could not be judge between ’em. So it far’d

Good space between these kinsmen; till heavens did

Make hardly one the winner.—Wear the girlond

With joy that you have won.—For the subdu’d,

Give them our present justice, since I know

Their lives but pinch ’em. Let it here be done.

The scene’s not for our seeing, go we hence,

Right joyful, with some sorrow.—Arm your prize,

I know you will not loose her.—Hippolyta,

I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,

The which it will deliver.

Oh beloved sister,

he's talking about as brave a knight who ever

rode a good horse.  Surely the gods

wanted him to die a bachelor, in case he should bring

children into the world who were too like gods. I found

his behaviour so charming that I thought Alcides

was a block of lead in comparison.  If I could praise

every part of him in this way, your Arcite

wouldn't lose by the comparison; he that was so good