The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (684 page)

Outstripp’d the people’s praises, won the garlands,

Ere they have time to wish ’em ours. O, never

Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor,

Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses

Like proud seas under us. Our good swords now

(Better the red-ey’d god of war nev’r ware),

Ravish’d our sides, like age must run to rust,

And deck the temples of those gods that hate us;

These hands shall never draw ’em out like lightning

To blast whole armies more.

Oh cousin Arcite,

where is Thebes now? Where is our noble country?

Where our friends and family? Will we

never see those sweet things again, never see

the robust youths jousting,

carrying the painted banners of their ladies,

like tall ships with their sails hoisted; then we would charge amongst them

and leave them all behind us like an east wind leaves the lazy clouds,

whilst Palamon and Arcite,

in the twinkling of an eye,

surpassed the praises people gave them, won the prizes,

before they even had time to say they should be ours. Oh, we two

shall never get to show off our weapons again, embodiments of honour,

or feel our fiery horses heaving

like great seas underneath us. Now our good swords

(Mars himself never carried a better one),

torn from our sides, must turn to rust like old men,

and decorate the temples of the gods who hate us;

these hands will never flash them out like lightning

to cut down great armies.

ARCITE

No, Palamon,

Those hopes are prisoners with us. Here we are,

And here the graces of our youths must wither

Like a too-timely spring. Here age must find us,

And which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried.

The sweet embraces of a loving wife,

Loaden with kisses, arm’d with thousand Cupids,

Shall never clasp our necks; no issue know us;

No figures of ourselves shall we ev’r see

To glad our age, and like young eagles teach ’em

Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say,

“Remember what your fathers were, and conquer!”

The fair-ey’d maids shall weep our banishments,

And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune

Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done

To youth and nature. This is all our world:

We shall know nothing here but one another,

Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes;

The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it;

Summer shall come, and with her all delights,

But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still.

No, Palamon,

those hopes are imprisoned with us. Here we are,

and here the beauty of our youth must fade

like a too early spring. Here we will grow old,

and what is worse, Palamon, we will do so unmarried.

The sweet embraces of a loving wife,

loaded with kisses, backed up by a thousand cupids,

will never be thrown round our necks; no children will know us;

we shall see no copies of ourselves

to brighten up our old age, and to teach them like young eagles

to boldly face the glare of the enemy's weapons, and say,

“Remember who your fathers were, and win!"

The beautiful girls will cry over our exile,

and in their songs they will curse eternally blind fortune,

until she is shamed into seeing what a wrong she has done

against youth and nature. This is our whole world:

we shall know nobody here but each other,

hear nothing but the clock ticking out our sorrows;

the vines will grow, but we shall never see them;

summer will come, with all her delights,

but it will always be the dead of winter in here.

PALAMON

’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds,

That shook the aged forest with their echoes,

No more now must we hallow; no more shake

Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine

Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,

Struck with our well-steel’d darts. All valiant uses

(The food and nourishment of noble minds)

In us two here shall perish; we shall die

(Which is the curse of honor) lastly

Children of grief and ignorance.

That's too true, Arcite. We can no longer call

to our Theban hounds, who shook the ancient forests

with their barking; no more will we shake

our sharp javelins, while the angry boar

runs like a Parthian from our attacks,

carrying our trusty arrows. All brave qualities

(the food and nourishment of noble minds)

will die here in us; we shall die

(this is the curse of honour) finally,

full of grief and ignorance.

ARCITE

Yet, cousin,

Even from the bottom of these miseries,

From all that fortune can inflict upon us,

I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings,

If the gods please—to hold here a brave patience,

And the enjoying of our griefs together.

Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish

If I think this our prison.

But, cousin,

even in the depths of these miseries,

suffering all the worst that fortune can throw at us,

I can see two comforts, two perfect blessings,

if the gods allow them–that we can use to reconcile ourselves

to our fate and face our sorrows together.

Whilst Palamon is with me, let me die

if I think of this as our prison.

PALAMON

Certainly

’Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes

Were twin’d together. ’Tis most true, two souls

Put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer

The gall of hazard, so they grow together,

Will never sink; they must not, say they could;

A willing man dies sleeping, and all’s done.

It's certainly

a great stroke of luck, cousin, that our fates

were joined together. It's very true, two souls

in two noble bodies, let them suffer

the spite of fate, as long as they are together,

they will never sink; they must not, even if they could;

when a man wants to he dies in his sleep, and that's the end.

ARCITE

Shall we make worthy uses of this place

That all men hate so much?

Shall we make good use of this place

that all men hate so much?

PALAMON

How, gentle cousin?

How, gentle cousin?

ARCITE

Let’s think this prison holy sanctuary

To keep us from corruption of worse men.

We are young and yet desire the ways of honor,

That liberty and common conversation,

The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,

Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing

Can be, but our imaginations

May make it ours? And here being thus together,

We are an endless mine to one another;

We are one another’s wife, ever begetting

New births of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance;

We are, in one another, families:

I am your heir, and you are mine; this place

Is our inheritance. No hard oppressor

Dare take this from us; here with a little patience

We shall live long, and loving. No surfeits seek us;

The hand of war hurts none here, nor the seas

Swallow their youth. Were we at liberty,

A wife might part us lawfully, or business,

Quarrels consume us, envy of ill men

Crave our acquaintance; I might sicken, cousin,

Where you should never know it, and so perish

Without your noble hand to close mine eyes,

Or prayers to the gods. A thousand chances,

Were we from hence, would sever us.

Let's think of this prison as a holy sanctuary,

to keep us from being corrupted by bad men.

We are young and yet we want to follow the paths of honour,

which freedom and low talk,

the curse of pure natures, might, like women,

lead us astray from. What is there that can't

become a blessing, if we just imagine

that it is? And as we are here together,

we are never-ending resources to each other;

we are each the wife of the other, forever creating

new children of love; we are father, friends, acquaintances;

we are each other's families:

I am your heir, and you are mine; this place

is our inheritance. No hard oppressor

would dare to take this away from us; with a little patience

we shall live long and loving lives here. There will be no excess;

nobody can be hurt by war here, nor can they be

drowned in the sea. If we were free,

a wife might lawfully separate us, or we might

quarrel over money, fall in with

bad companions; I might become ill, cousin,

and you would never know it, and so I would die

without your noble hand to close my eyes,

or offer prayers to the gods. If we weren't here,

a thousand different things could separate us.

PALAMON

You have made me

(I thank you, cousin Arcite) almost wanton

With my captivity. What a misery

It is to live abroad, and every where!

’Tis like a beast, methinks. I find the court here,

I am sure, a more content, and all those pleasures

That woo the wills of men to vanity

I see through now, and am sufficient

To tell the world ’tis but a gaudy shadow

That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him.

What had we been, old in the court of Creon,

Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance

The virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite,

Had not the loving gods found this place for us,

We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept,

And had their epitaphs, the people’s curses.

Shall I say more?

You have made me

(I thank you, cousin Arcite) almost love

my imprisonment. How miserable it is

to live in the wide world, go everywhere!

That's like being an animal, I think. I'm sure

that our position here is a more contented one, and I

can see through all those pleasures which attract men

to frivolous things, and I'm able

to tell the world that these things are just vulgar shadows

that disappear with the passing of time.

What would we have become, grown old in Creon's court,

where sin rules and lust and ignorance

are the virtues of great men? Cousin Arcite,

if the loving gods hadn't found this place for us,

we would have died like them, sick old men, unmourned,

with the curses of the people as our epitaphs.

Shall I say more?

ARCITE

I would hear you still.

Do go on.

PALAMON

Ye shall.

Is there record of any two that lov’d