The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (680 page)

Thebes. The palace.

(Palamon, Arcite, Valerius)

Enter Palamon and Arcite.

ARCITE

Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood,

And our prime cousin, yet unhard’ned in

The crimes of nature—let us leave the city

Thebes, and the temptings in’t, before we further

Sully our gloss of youth:

And here to keep in abstinence we shame

As in incontinence; for not to swim

I’ th’ aid o’ th’ current were almost to sink,

At least to frustrate striving, and to follow

The common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddy

Where we should turn or drown; if labor through,

Our gain but life and weakness.

Dear Palamon, whom I love more than kinship demands,

my first cousin, still

an innocent-let's leave the city

of Thebes, and its temptations, before we

corrupt our youthful virtues further;

to maintain our abstinence is seen, here,

as being as shameful as indulgence
;
to swim

against the tide would almost drown us,

or at least stop us struggling and go

with the common flow, which would bring us to a whirlpool

where we would have to change or drown; if we got through,

all we would gain would be life and illness.

PALAMON

Your advice

Is cried up with example. What strange ruins,

Since first we went to school, may we perceive

Walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds

The gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propound

To his bold ends honor and golden ingots,

Which though he won, he had not; and now flurted

By peace, for whom he fought, who then shall offer

To Mars’s so scorn’d altar? I do bleed

When such I meet, and wish great Juno would

Resume her ancient fit of jealousy

To get the soldier work, that peace might purge

For her repletion, and retain anew

Her charitable heart, now hard, and harsher

Than strife or war could be.

Your advice

is supported by examples. What terrible hardship

we have seen walking around Thebes, since we

first came here to school! Scars and ragged clothes

are the rewards of the soldier, who fought

boldly for honour and for gold,

which, although he won them, he didn't get to keep; and now

he is an outcast in the time of peace for which he fought,

who would bother being a soldier? It wounds me

when I meet people like that, and makes me wish great Juno

would start another war

to get the soldier work, that peace would purge herself

and regain her

charitable heart, which is now hard, and harsher

than any war or fighting could be.

ARCITE

Are you not out?

Meet you no ruin but the soldier in

The cranks and turns of Thebes? You did begin

As if you met decays of many kinds.

Perceive you none that do arouse your pity

But th’ unconsider’d soldier?

Aren't you missing something?

Do you meet no ruined people but soldiers in

the pathways and alleys of Thebes? You started

as if you met many different types of ruined people.

Do you see nobody that inspires pity in you

apart from the neglected soldier?

PALAMON

Yes, I pity

Decays where e’er I find them, but such most

That sweating in an honorable toil

Are paid with ice to cool ’em.

Yes, I pity

the downfallen wherever I find them, but particularly

those that have done honourable service

and are rejected once it's done.

ARCITE

’Tis not this

I did begin to speak of. This is virtue

Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes,

How dangerous, if we will keep our honors,

It is for our residing; where every evil

Hath a good color; where ev’ry seeming good’s

A certain evil; where not to be ev’n jump

As they are, here were to be strangers, and

Such things to be, mere monsters.

That's not what

I was going to talk about. This sort of thing

is not unique to Thebes. I was speaking of

how dangerous it will be to stay in Thebes,

if we want to keep our honour; everything evil

is well thought of; everything that seems good

is bound to be evil; and not to follow what

others do makes us foreigners, and

as such we will be despised.

PALAMON

’Tis in our power

(Unless we fear that apes can tutor’s) to

Be masters of our manners. What need I

Affect another’s gait, which is not catching

Where there is faith? Or to be fond upon

Another’s way of speech, when by mine own

I may be reasonably conceiv’d; sav’d too,

Speaking it truly? Why am I bound

By any generous bond to follow him

Follows his tailor, haply so long until

The follow’d make pursuit? Or let me know

Why mine own barber is unblest, with him

My poor chin too, for ’tis not scissor’d just

To such a favorite’s glass? What canon is there

That does command my rapier from my hip,

To dangle’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe

Before the street be foul? Either I am

The forehorse in the team, or I am none

That draw i’ th’ sequent trace. These poor slight sores

Need not a plantin; that which rips my bosom

Almost to th’ heart’s—

We are quite capable

(unless we are worried that we will stop copying apes)

of keeping control of ourselves. Why should I

copy someone else's way of walking, it won't

affect me if I have faith. Why would I copy

someone else's speech, when my own is perfectly

good for getting my meaning across; better,

because it's genuine? Why should I have to

consider myself bound to follow someone

who follows his tailor, maybe for so long that

he'll turn round and chase him off? Tell me

what's wrong with my own barber, what's wrong

with my poor chin, just because my beard isn't cut

in imitation of some favourite? What law is there

that says I should take my rapier from my hip,

carrying it in my hand, or that I should walk on tiptoes

before the street is mucky? I must either be

a leader or nothing, I will not

be a follower. These minor injuries

don't need treatment; the one which almost

tears my heart out is–

ARCITE

Our uncle Creon.

Our uncle Creon.

PALAMON

He,

A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes

Makes heaven unfear’d, and villainy assured

Beyond its power there’s nothing; almost puts

Faith in a fever, and deifies alone

Voluble chance; who only attributes

The faculties of other instruments

To his own nerves and act; commands men service,

And what they win in’t, boot and glory; one

That fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let

The blood of mine that’s sib to him be suck’d

From me with leeches! Let them break and fall

Off me with that corruption!

Him,

the most unrestrained tyrant, his successes

have made him fearless and ensured his villainy

thinks that there is nothing beyond his power;

he almost destroys faith, and claims that he can

beat chance; something that has

been done by others he takes the credit for, insisting

it was his own nerves and actions which succeeded;

he orders men to fight and takes the rewards and the glory;

he never hesitates to do harm and dares not do good.

Let that part of my blood which is related to him be sucked

out of me with leeches! Let them die and fall

off me, taking that pollution!

ARCITE

Clear-spirited cousin,

Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share

Of his loud infamy; for our milk

Will relish of the pasture, and we must

Be vile, or disobedient—not his kinsmen

In blood unless in quality.

Pure souled cousin,

let's leave his court, so we don't become associated

with his terrible reputation; what we do will be

influenced by where we are, and we shall have to be

vile, or disobedient–we won't be seen as one of the family

unless we are the same as him.

PALAMON

Nothing truer.

I think the echoes of his shames have deaf’d

The ears of heav’nly justice. Widows’ cries

Descend again into their throats, and have not

Due audience of the gods.

Enter Valerius.

Valerius!

You're quite right.

I think the sound of his shameful deeds have deafened

the ears of the judges of heaven. The cries of widows

sink back into their throats, and are not being

properly listened to by the gods.

 Valerius!

VALERIUS

The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed

Till his great rage be off him. Phoebus, when

He broke his whipstock and exclaim’d against

The horses of the sun, but whisper’d, to

The loudness of his fury.

The King is calling for you; but go there slowly,

wait for his anger to die down. When Phoebus

broke his whip and shouted out against

the horses of the sun, he was just whispering,

compared to the loudness of the King's rage.

PALAMON

Small winds shake him.

But what’s the matter?

The smallest thing upsets him.

But what is it this time?

VALERIUS

Theseus (who where he threats appalls) hath sent

Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces

Ruin to Thebes; who is at hand to seal

The promise of his wrath.

Theseus (who is whom he is cursing) has sent

him a deadly challenge, and announced that he

is going to destroy Thebes; he is close by,

intending to keep this promise.

ARCITE

Let him approach.

But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not

A jot of terror to us. Yet what man

Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours),

When that his action’s dregg’d with mind assur’d

’Tis bad he goes about.

Let him come on.

Apart from the gods he represents, we are not

at all afraid of him. But how a man

reduces his own worth (this is the case with us)

when he does something with his mind clouded by the