The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (821 page)

I will attend the Queen.

Attend to those things I told you to do.

I will wait on the Queen.

PISANIO.

Madam, I shall.

Exeunt

Madam, I shall.

Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD

IACHIMO.

Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was

then

of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he

hath

been allowed the name of. But I could then have look'd on him

without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his

endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him

by

items.

Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. At that time he was

on the rise, expected to show himself as good as he has

since proved. But I could have looked at him without

everyone praising him, as if there was a catalogue of accomplishments

by his side, and I had to tick them off one by one.

PHILARIO.

You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now

he

is with that which makes him both without and within.

You're speaking of the time when he was less equipped

with those qualities which make him, both internal and external.

FRENCHMAN.

I have seen him in France; we had very many there

could

behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.

I have seen him in France; we have very many

good strong men like him there.

IACHIMO.

This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein

he

must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him,

I

doubt not, a great deal from the matter.

This business of marrying his king's daughter, in which

he must be judged according to her value, not his own,

gives him, I think, a far greater reputation than he deserves.

FRENCHMAN.

And then his banishment.

And then his exile -

IACHIMO.

Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this

lamentable

divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be

it

but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might

lay

flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how

comes it

he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?

Yes, and her followers who lament this separation

are very keen to give him their approval, so that

it justifies her choice, which otherwise one might

say was very questionable. But why is he

coming to stay with you? How has he wangled an introduction?

PHILARIO.

His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I

have

been often bound for no less than my life.

Enter POSTHUMUS

Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

His father and I were soldiers together, and I

have often owed him my life.

Here comes the Briton. Give him a welcome

suitable from gentlemen of your

experience to a foreigner of his class. I would like you

all to get to know this gentleman, whom I

recommend to you as a noble friend of mine.

I'll leave you to find out how good he is,

rather than embarrass him by telling you about him now.

FRENCHMAN.

Sir, we have known together in Orleans.

Sir, we knew each other in Orleans.

POSTHUMUS.

Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.

Since when I have been in debt to

you for your kindness, which I will always be paying and will never have settled the debt.

FRENCHMAN.

Sir, you o'errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.

Sir, you overrate my poor services.

I was glad I could reconcile you and my countryman; it

would have been a shame if you had come together

in such a deadly fight as you both intended, for

a matter of such little importance.

POSTHUMUS.

By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my mended judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was not altogether slight.

You must excuse me, sir. I was a young

traveller then; I didn't want to look

as if I was being guided by others, so I

rejected everything I was told; but in my now better

judgement–if it's not boasting to say that it is better–my

grievance wasn't absolutely nothing.

FRENCHMAN.

Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have fall'n both.

Well, yes it was, to put it to the test of

a duel, and by two such men who would probably

have fought it out to the death.

IACHIMO.

Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?

Would it be rude to ask what caused the quarrel?

FRENCHMAN.

Safely, I think. 'Twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching- and upon warrant of bloody affirmation- his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France.

I think you can ask. It was a public argument,

which can be reported without further conflict. It was

very like an argument we had last night, where each of us

started praising the ladies of his country; this gentleman at that

time swore
–
and promised to prove it in a fight–that his

was more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, loyal, accomplished and less

likely to be seduced, than any of the best ladies in France.

IACHIMO.

That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion, by this, worn out.

That lady must be dead, or this gentleman must have

changed his opinion by now.

POSTHUMUS.

She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.

She hasn't changed, and I haven't changed my mind.

IACHIMO.

You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy.

You mustn't prefer her like that above our Italian ladies.

POSTHUMUS.

Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.

If I was provoked the same way I was in France, I

wouldn't change anything, although I will say I am her

honourable worshipper, not a cheap lover.

IACHIMO.

As fair and as good- a kind of hand-in-hand comparison- had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.

As fair and as good–a kind of like-for-like

comparison–would make her too fair and too good for any

lady in Britain. If she was as far ahead of othersI have seen as

that diamond of yours outshines many I have seen, I would

have to believe she was above many; but I haven't seen the most

valuable diamond there is, and you haven't seen the lady.

POSTHUMUS.

I prais'd her as I rated her. So do I my stone.

I gave her the praise I think she's worth. I do the same with my stone.

IACHIMO.

What do you esteem it at?

And what value do you give it?

POSTHUMUS.

More than the world enjoys.

Above than anything in the world.

IACHIMO.

Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's outpriz'd by a trifle.

Either your matchless mistress is dead, or she's

been beaten by a trinket.

POSTHUMUS.

You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.

You are mistaken: one may be sold or

given, if you have enough money to buy it or you deserve

the gift; the other is not a thing which can be bought, and

can only be given by the gods.

IACHIMO.

Which the gods have given you?

Which one have the gods given you?

POSTHUMUS.

Which by their graces I will keep.

The thing that with their blessings I will keep.

IACHIMO.

You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol'n too. So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.

She can be yours in name; but you know

women can entertain some strange visitors. Your ring could also

be stolen. So these two things you think are priceless, one is

weak and the other can be lost; a cunning thief, or a

amorous courtier, would back themselves to win

the pair of them.

POSTHUMUS.

Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.

The whole of Italy doesn't contain such a skilful

courtier to lead my mistress astray, if that's what