The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1083 page)

PANDARUS.

Where?

Where?

BOY.

At your own house; there he unarms him.

At your own house; he's there taking off his armour.

PANDARUS.

Good boy, tell him I come.

Exit Boy

I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.

Good boy, tell him I'm coming.

I fear he may be wounded. Farewell, good niece.

CRESSIDA.

Adieu, uncle.

Goodbye, uncle.

PANDARUS.

I will be with you, niece, by and by.

I'll be with you, niece, in a while.

CRESSIDA.

To bring, uncle?

Bringing what, uncle?

PANDARUS.

Ay, a token from Troilus.

Well, a token from Troilus.

CRESSIDA.

By the same token, you are a bawd.

Exit PANDARUS

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,

He offers in another's enterprise;

But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see

Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be,

Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:

Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing.

That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this:

Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is.

That she was never yet that ever knew

Love got so sweet as when desire did sue;

Therefore this maxim out of love I teach:

Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech.

Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,

Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

Exit

By the same token, you are a pimp.

In managing someone else's affairs he offers

words, promises, gifts, tears and everything a lover can offer;

but I think a thousand times more of Troilus

Than the praises of Pandarus,

but I hold back. They think women are angels, when they are wooing them;

once they get them that's it; they lose interest after that.

If a woman who is loved doesn't know this then she knows nothing:

men prefer the things they can't get above those they can.

No woman ever got such sweet love from a man who got his desire

as she did when he was begging her to grant those desires.

So, I take this lesson from the book of love:

‘when a woman gives in she's under your thumb; if she doesn't you still have to beg.’

So, although my heart is full of love,

he won't see any of it in my eyes.

Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, and others

AGAMEMNON.

Princes,

What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks?

The ample proposition that hope makes

In all designs begun on earth below

Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,

As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,

Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grain

Tortive and errant from his course of growth.

Nor, princes, is it matter new to us

That we come short of our suppose so far

That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand;

Sith every action that hath gone before,

Whereof we have record, trial did draw

Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,

And that unbodied figure of the thought

That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works

And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else

But the protractive trials of great Jove

To find persistive constancy in men;

The fineness of which metal is not found

In fortune's love? For then the bold and coward,

The wise and fool, the artist and unread,

The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin.

But in the wind and tempest of her frown

Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,

Puffing at all, winnows the light away;

And what hath mass or matter by itself

Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.

Princes,

what problem has made your faces so long?

The great promise that hope offers

when we begin our plans on earth

has failed to deliver; stalemates and disasters

are blocking our best laid plans,

just as knots, getting in the way of the streams of sap,

 infect the healthy pine, making it grow

twisted and away from its natural course.

And, Princes, we all know

that we have fallen so far short of our expectations

that after seven years of siege the walls of Troy still stand;

everything we have tried so far

of which we have a record has been shown

to have gone awry, not fulfilled its purpose,

not following the shape of our ideas at all. So why do you Princes

look at what we've done shamefacedly

and call them failures, when actually all they are

are just the long drawn out trials imposed by great Jove

to test the persistence of men?

That's something which can't be found

when dealing with luck; then the brave and the cowardly,

the wise man and the fool, the intellectual and the ignorant,

the hard and soft, all seem the same.

But when distinction frowns and blows upon us

with her great powerful fan she blows on all

and blows the worthless things away,

and things which have a value of their own

remain, excellent and unadulterated.

NESTOR.

With due observance of thy godlike seat,

Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply

Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance

Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth,

How many shallow bauble boats dare sail

Upon her patient breast, making their way

With those of nobler bulk!

But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage

The gentle Thetis, and anon behold

The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,

Bounding between the two moist elements

Like Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat,

Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now

Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled

Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so

Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide

In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness

The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze

Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind

Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

And flies fled under shade-why, then the thing of courage

As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise,

And with an accent tun'd in self-same key

Retorts to chiding fortune.

With due respect to your divine position,

great Agamemnon, Nestor will give proof

of what you've just said. Suffering the vagaries of fate

shows the true worth of men. When the sea is calm,

how many little toy boats dare to sail

on her smooth waters, going alongside

the great ships!

But once the rough north wind stirs up

the gentle sea, you'll soon see

the well built boat cutting through liquid mountains,

leaping between the sea and the sky

like Perseus' horse. Then where is the cheeky boat,

whose weak poorly built sides a moment ago

were matching themselves with the great ones? Either run for the harbour

or sunk down to the depths. This is how

demonstrations of bravery and real bravery

are divided in the storms of fate; when she's shining on people

the herd is more annoyed by the breeze

than by danger; but when the destructive wind

makes the great oaks bend the knee,

and the flies flee for shelter–well, then the courageous man

become stirred up by the storm, he responds to it,

and answers fate in the same way.

ULYSSES.

Agamemnon,

Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,

Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit

In whom the tempers and the minds of all

Should be shut up-hear what Ulysses speaks.

Besides the applause and approbation

The which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway,

[To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life,

I give to both your speeches- which were such

As, Agamemnon every hand of Greece

Should hold up high in brass; and such again

As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver,

Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree

On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears

To his experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both,

Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.

Agamemnon,

you great commander, the muscles and bones of Greece,

the heart, soul and guiding spirit of our army,

in which all of our minds should be content

to be absorbed–hear what Ulysses has to say.

Apart from the praise and agreement

which I give to you [to Agamemnon] great one, for your position and power,

[to Nestor] and to you, most respected one, for your long life,

for both of your speeches–which were so good

that, Agamemnon, they should be shown to everyone as

models of eloquence, inscribed on brass;

and venerable Nestor, with his silver hair,

has taken the air and turned it into something as strong as

the axle on which the whole universe turns,

convincing all the Greeks with his knowledgeable words–

but if you'll allow me, you great one, and you wise one,

Ulysses would like to speak.

AGAMEMNON.

Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect

That matter needless, of importless burden,

Divide thy lips than we are confident,

When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws,

We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.

Speak, Prince of Ithaca; it's less likely

that you would impose on us with unimportant matters

than that we would hear sweet eloquence

when the foulmouthed Thersites opens his mouth.