The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1066 page)

Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk,

As if we should forget we had no hands,

If Marcus did not name the word of hands!

Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this:

Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says-

I can interpret all her martyr'd signs;

She says she drinks no other drink but tears,

Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks.

Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought;

In thy dumb action will I be as perfect

As begging hermits in their holy prayers.

Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,

But I of these will wrest an alphabet,

And by still practice learn to know thy meaning.

What's this?Has sorrow made you feeble minded already?

Why, Marcus, no man has more right to be mad than I.

What violence can her hands do to her?

And why do you have to mention hands?

Would you make Aeneas tell the story twice

of how Troy was burned and he was made miserable?

Don't use the motif of hands in your talk,

to remind us that we have none.

Oh, how stupidly I talk,

as if we should forget that we have no hands

if Marcus didn't use the word hands!

Come, let's eat; and eat this, sweet girl:

there's no drink here.Listen to what she says, Marcus -

I can interpret all her tortured signs;

she says she drinks no other fluid than her tears,

brewed in her sorrow, mashed* on her cheeks.
[*part of brewing]

Speechless speaker, I will learn what you think;

I will get to know your dumb signs as well

as begging hermits know their holy prayers.

You shall not sigh, nor hold your stumps up to heaven,

nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,

without me turning them into an alphabet,

and by careful study I shall learn what you mean.

BOY.

Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments;

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.

Good grandfather, leave these sorrowful speeches alone;

cheer my aunt up with a merry story.

MARCUS.

Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd,

Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness.

Alas, the sensitive boy, moved by emotion,

weeps to see his grandfather so sad.

TITUS.

Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,

And tears will quickly melt thy life away.

[MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife]

What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife?

Be calm, little one; you are full of tears,

and tears will quickly melt away your life.

What are you striking at, Marcus, with your knife?

MARCUS.

At that that I have kill'd, my lord- a fly.

At the thing I have killed, my lord - a fly.

TITUS.

Out on thee, murderer, thou kill'st my heart!

Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny;

A deed of death done on the innocent

Becomes not Titus' brother. Get thee gone;

I see thou art not for my company.

Get out murderer, you've stabbed at my heart!

My eyes are choked with seeing so much tyranny;

killing the innocent is not a fitting

deed for Titus' brother.Get out;

I see you are not fit for my company.

MARCUS.

Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.

But, my lord, I've only killed a fly.

TITUS.

'But!' How if that fly had a father and mother?

How would he hang his slender gilded wings

And buzz lamenting doings in the air!

Poor harmless fly,

That with his pretty buzzing melody

Came here to make us merry! And thou hast kill'd him.

'Only!'What if that fly had a mother and a father?

How his slender shining wings would droop

and buzz sad laments in the air!

Poor harmless fly,

that with his pretty buzzing song

came here to cheer us up!And you have killed him.

MARCUS.

Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly,

Like to the Empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him.

Excuse me sir; it was a black ugly fly,

like the Empress' Moor; and so I killed him.

TITUS.

O, O, O!

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

For thou hast done a charitable deed.

Give me thy knife, I will insult on him,

Flattering myself as if it were the Moor

Come hither purposely to poison me.

There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.

Ah, sirrah!

Yet, I think, we are not brought so low

But that between us we can kill a fly

That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.

Oh-ho!

Then excuse me for telling you off,

for you have done a good deed.

Give me your knife, I will attack him,

pretending it is the Moor,

come here deliberately to poison me.

That one's for you, and that one for Tamora.

Ah, sir!

I see we have not been brought down so low

that we can't kill a fly between us

which looks like a coal-black Moor.

MARCUS.

Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,

He takes false shadows for true substances.

Alas, poor man!Grief has so turned his mind,

that he mistakes phantoms for reality.

TITUS.

Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me;

I'll to thy closet, and go read with thee

Sad stories chanced in the times of old.

Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young,

And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle.

Exeunt

Come, clear the table.Lavinia, come with me;

I'll come to your room, and read with you

sad stories from the olden days.

Come, boy, come with me; your eyes are young,

and you shall read when my old eyes start to fade.

Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm.

Enter TITUS and MARCUS

BOY.

Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia

Follows me everywhere, I know not why.

Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes!

Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

Help, grandfather, help!My aunt Lavinia

follows me everywhere, I don't know why.

Good uncle Marcus, look how she rushes at me!

Alas, sweet aunt, I can't understand you.

MARCUS.

Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt.

Stand next to me, Lucius; don't be frightened of your aunt.

TITUS.

She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.

She loves you very much, boy, too much to harm you.

BOY.

Ay, when my father was in Rome she did.

Yes, she did when my father was in Rome.

MARCUS.

What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?

What does my niece Lavinia mean by these signs?

TITUS.

Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean.

See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee.

Somewhither would she have thee go with her.

Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care

Read to her sons than she hath read to thee

Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator.

Don't be frightened of her, Lucius; she does mean something.

See, Lucius, what a fuss she makes of you.

She wants you to go somewhere with her.

Ah, boy, Cornelia never took more trouble

to read to her sons than she has, reading

you sweet poetry and Cicero on rhetoric.

MARCUS.

Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?

Can't you guess why she is so attentive to you?

BOY.

My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,

Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her;

For I have heard my grandsire say full oft

Extremity of griefs would make men mad;

And I have read that Hecuba of Troy

Ran mad for sorrow. That made me to fear;

Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt

Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,

And would not, but in fury, fright my youth;

Which made me down to throw my books, and fly-

Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt;

And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,

I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

My lord, I don't know, nor can I guess,

unless she's overcome with some fit or madness;

for I have often heard my grandfather say

that great grief could drive men mad;

and I have read that Hecuba of Troy

went mad through sorrow.That made me worry;

although, my lord, I know my noble aunt

loves me as dearly as my mother ever did,

and would not want to scare me unless she was in a rage;

that was what made me throw down my books and run-

there was no reason to, perhaps.But forgive me, sweet aunt;

and, madam, if my uncle Marcius is going,