Cap de Creus, 18 de maig de 2002

Comèdia original, sobre si és millor la vida contemplativa o entrar a disfrutar de la vida a fons, plena de jocs de paraules i esgrima verbal. El rei Ferran de Navarra, i els seus cortesans Berowne, Dumain i Longaville fan vot de dedicar-se durant un any a l'estudi, i de mantenir-se apartats de les dones, naturalment, s'acaben enamorant de la princesa de França i les seves dames, Rosalina, Caterina i Maria, i els envien poemes. A més Jaquineta, Don Adriano i servents. Els cavallers decideixen "estudiar" l'amor, i es disfressen de russos en ocasió d'una festa de màscares, però les dames ho saben i poden jugar. S'acaba la festa de cop per la mort del rei de França. "Què passa quan uns joves aristòcrates, educats en les convencions s'han d'enfrontar a una emoció incontrolable com és l'amor, l'afable anarquia del camp i la sincera comicitat de la gent corrent?"

I i

Therefore, brave conquerors,--for so you are,
That war against your own affections
And the huge army of the world's desires,--
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;

III i

MOTH

No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at
the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour
it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and
sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you
swallowed love with singing love, sometime through
the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling
love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of
your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly
doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in
your pocket like a man after the old painting; and
keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away.
These are complements, these are humours; these
betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without
these; and make them men of note--do you note
me?--that most are affected to these.

IV iii

Have found the ground of study's excellence
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; 
They are the ground, the books, the academes
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire

[...]

For where is any author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

Novembre 2002, Delta de l'Ebre

El tema de fons seria el xoc entre l'idealisme i el món real. Romeo, Mercutio i Benvolio, dels Montesco, enfrontats als Capuletos, es presenten a un ball de màscares on Romeo i Julieta s'enamoren, i demanen a Fra Llorenç que els casi. Tibald provoca Romeo, que evita la lluita, però Mercutio s'hi enfronta i és mort. Romeo el venja i el Príncep de Verona el desterra. Julieta s'hauria de casar amb Paris però demana a Fra Llorenç que l'ajudi i pren un verí que la fa passar per morta. És duta al panteó dels Capuletos, on jeu Tibald ensangonat [això m'ho imagino al cementiri del PobleNou]. Romeo no ha rebut el missatge avisant de la simulació i es clava l'espasa, després de matar Paris. Julieta es desperta i es mata també.

I i

ROMEO
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?

BENVOLIO
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

ROMEO
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
[...]
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

I ii

But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

PARIS
Younger than she are happy mothers made.

(deixem que passin dos estius i aleshores podrem dir que està madura per ser núvia)

a I iii

LADY CAPULET
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

Ladybird= garsa

I iii

LADY CAPULET
What say you? can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast;
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content
And what obscured in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
For fair without the fair within to hide:
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

(el que no es troba a les pàgines es trobarà escrit als marges, als ulls)

I iv

Mercutio
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she--

ROMEO
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.

MERCUTIO
True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Oh! Aleshores, veig que la reina Mab
ha estat amb vós.
Ella és la llevadora de les fades
i no més grossa que la pedra d'àgata
que un regidor du a l'índex.
L'arrosseguen un tronc de petits àtoms
i es passeja pel nas d'aquells que dormen.
Els radis de les rodes del seu carro
són construïts amb les potetes llargues dels teixidors;
la capota, amb una ala de llagosta;
els tirants, d'una tènue teranyina,
i el collar és fet d'un raig de clar de lluna;
la fusta de la tralla, un os de grill;
i un subtil filament la xurriaca.
El seu cotxer és un mosquitet de cendra,
així com la meitat del cuc rodó
que es treu del dit mandrós d'una criada.
És el seu carro una avellana buida,
que ha garlopat un esquirol fuster,
o el vell corc, que de temps immemorial
és carrosser de fades.
Amb tot aquest impediment galopa,
una i altra nit, sobre el cervell
dels amants, que somien de seguida
en l'amor. I es passeja pels genolls
dels cortesans, somiadors d'intriga
i favor; sobre el dit dels advocats,
que de seguit somien honoraris.
I va damunt els llavis de les dames,
que somien en besos; aquests llavis
que Mab ferotge emplena de butllofes,
car llur alè és de la dolçor empestat.
De vegades galopa sobre el nas
d'un cortesà, que de seguit somia
que ensuma un bon camí; i va, amb la cua
d'un porc del delme, a fer les pessigolles
damunt el nas vermell d'un prebendat,
que somia en un altre benefici.
De vegades rodola ran del coll
d'un soldat, que somia a tallar gorges;
veu esvorancs, trinxeres, emboscades
i fulles espanyoles, i el tragueig
a cinc saluts, i sent com el tambor
bat a la seva orella, i es desperta,
diu dos renecs i torna a endormiscar-se.
Sempre és aquesta Mab, que va trenant
de nit, en les crineres dels cavalls,
i dels follets el pèl greixós masega
i en fa un nus de lletgesa i de brutícia
que un cop desfet prediu les grans desgràcies!
Ella és la bruixa que, quan les minyones
dormen damunt l'esquena, va prement-les,
perquè aprenguin a rebre i mantenir-se
la primera vegada, fent-les dones
de bon carregament! Encara és ella ..

Romeo:
Tranquil·litat, Mercútio, ja n'hi ha prou
Que parleu de no res.
Mercútio: És cert, de somnis,
que són les criatures del cervell
peresós; fills de vana fantasia,
i tan fins de substància com és l'aire.
Més inconstants que el vent que ara amanyaga
el pit glaçat del nord, i enfurismant-se
bufa molt lluny d'allà, fins al migjorn
que goteja rosada ...

I v

JULIET

My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

II ii

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

II ii

JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

ROMEO
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

JULIET
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.

II ii

JULIET
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

ROMEO
I would I were thy bird.

JULIET
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such
sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

II iii

Déu meu, i quin doll d'aigua de sal i de disgust
per amanir un amor que ja ni en guarda el gust!

Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!

II v

O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over louring hills:

Julieta que ha enviat la dida
Com que va coixa! Els missatgers d'amor
haurien d'ésser els pensaments, que volen
deu cops més ràpids que la llum del dia
llençant les ombres dels pujols boirosos.

II vi

ROMEO

Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagined happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

R
Julieta, si del teu goig la mida
és plena com la meva, i si la traça
que tens va més enllà de tot elogi,
amb el teu dolç alè perfuma l'aire,
i la música de la teva llengua
desplegui l'alegria imaginada
que sentim, retrobant-nos, l'un i l'altre.
J

El pensament, més ric que la paraula,
prefereix la substància al guarniment;
només els pobres compten el que tenen.
Tanta riquesa hi ha en el meu amor
que no puc ni sumar-ne la meitat.

III i

TYBALT
What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO
Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight.

III i

ROMEO
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
was hurt under your arm.

ROMEO
I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO
Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
And soundly too: your houses!

III ii

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Galopeu, oh cavalls de peus de foc,
vers el palau de Febus! Un cotxer
cpm Faetont a cop de xurriaques
ja us tindria a ponent i hauria dut
ràpidament la nit plena de núvols.
Estén pels aires la cortina espessa,
oh nit executora de l'amor!
Tanca els ulls dels qui espiïn, i Romeo,
ni vist ni oït, que em salti en aquests braços
Els amants, per als ritus de l'amor,
amb llur beutat en tenen prou per veure-hi,
i, si l'amor és cec, encara lliga
millor amb la nit. Oh, vine, nit discreta,
sòbria matrona de la negra túnica.
Mostra'm com poden perdre un joc guanyat
dues virginitats sense cap taca.
L'esquerpa sang que a flor de galta em truca,
tapa-la amb el mantell, fins a tal punt
que l'amor ignorant, tornant-se audaç,
prengui per la modèstia més senzilla
l'acte viu de l'amor. Dolça nit, vine;
vine, Romeo, dia dins la nit,
perquè sobre les ales de la nit
tu seràs molt més blanc que la neu nova
a l'esquena del corb. Oh, nit gentil!
Oh, vine, nit amant del front negrós!
Dóna'm el meu Romeo, i, quan ell mori,
pren-lo, i el talles en tot d'estrelletes,
per que faci la faç del cel tan fina,
que el món, enamorant-se de la nit,
no pagui cap més culte al sol que esclata!

III ii

ROMEO
'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her;
But Romeo may not: more validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:

[...]

FRIAR LAURENCE
I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

ROMEO
Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.

III v

JULIET
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

J
Te'n vols anar? Si encara no clareja;
si ha estat el rossinyol i no l'alosa
el que et punxava la poruga orella.
Canta de nit a dalt del magraner.
Creu-me, amor meu, ha estat el rossinyol.

R
Era l'alosa, que anuncia l'alba,
no el rossinyol. No veus aquelles franges
geloses, amor meu, partint els núvols
a l'orient llunyà? Ja són cremats
els ciris de la nit, i el dia alegre
punteja les muntanyes emboirades.
Cal partir i viure, o bé restar i morir.

III v

JULIET
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O, by this count I shall be much in years
Ere I again behold my Romeo!

III v

CAPULET
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
But for the sunset of my brother's son
It rains downright.
How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

Què passa? Eta una gàrgola, minyona?
Encara plora? Encara i sempre pluja?
En un cos remenut, vols imitar
una barca, una mar i el vent i tot?
Perquè els teus ulls puc dir que són la mar
on fas avenç i reculada amb llàgrimes,
i rebufant les llàgrimes contra ells,
si no sorgeix un horitzó de calma,
bolcaran el teu cos desballestat
per la tempesta.

[choplogic = estripalògiques]

IV v

Nurse
O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

PARIS
Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!

CAPULET
Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried.

V iii

JULIET
Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

Exit FRIAR LAURENCE
What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make die with a restorative.

Kisses him

Thy lips are warm.

First Watchman

[Within] Lead, boy: which way?

JULIET
Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

Snatching ROMEO's dagger

This is thy sheath;

Stabs herself

there rust, and let me die.

Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies

Març 2003, Barcelona, horel Princesa Sofia, i Ayma

Argument i comentaris

Ricard II s'apropia indegudament de l'herència de Bolingbroke i l'envia a l'exili. Després aquest torna i es fa amb el poder. Ricard serà assassinat a la presó. Obra on hi ha una poètica inspirada sobre la pèrdua del poder, la terra, el rei que s'adona que només és un home. Contrasta amb Bolingbroke, que no és un home de lírica, sinó d'acció.

Bonic interludi del jardí.

Kermode remarca (les penes augmentades per les ombres) com el llenguatge és més modern, com a l'hora de consolar la reina, en lloc de fer servir les figures retòriques conegudes, proposa mostrar el procés de pensar i elaborar una metàfora. K remarca també l'especial introspecció de Ricard II sobre ell mateix, observant-se des de fora -com en l'escena del mirall-.

Extraordinari soliloqui del món poblat per pensaments

I iii

Ara hauré d'blidar la llengua apresa
en aquests quaranta anys: el meu anglès natiu,
perquè d'ara endavant no em servirà
més que una arpa o viola sense cordes;
o com un instrument dintre un estoig,
o, aquest obert, com si estigués a mans
de qui no sap com treure'n harmonies.

My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony:
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.

I 3

JOHN OF GAUNT
All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the king did banish thee,
But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour
And not the king exiled thee; or suppose
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air
And thou art flying to a fresher clime:
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest:
Suppose the singing birds musicians,
The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd,
The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
Than a delightful measure or a dance;
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

II 2

BUSHY
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry
Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen;
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which for things true weeps things imaginary.

QUEEN
It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad
As, though on thinking on no thought I think,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.

BUSHY
'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.

QUEEN
'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived
From some forefather grief; mine is not so,
For nothing had begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:
'Tis in reversion that I do possess;
But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

II2

QUEEN
So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.

BUSHY
Despair not, madam.

QUEEN
Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter DUKE OF YORK

GREEN
Here comes the Duke of York.

QUEEN
With signs of war about his aged neck:
O, full of careful business are his looks!
Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

DUKE OF YORK
Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief.
Your husband, he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land,
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Així, doncs, Greene,
vós sou la llevadora de les meves penes,
I Bolingbroke el fill funest del meu dolor.
Ara l'ànima meva ha donat llum a un monstre,
i jo, mare de poc, en les convulsions del part
acumulo dolors i sofriments.

B. Senyora, no desespereu.

R. Què m'ho pot impedir?
Em desespero i em faig enemiga
de l'Esperança, que és aduladora,
paràsita, i ens oculta la mort
que gentilment dissoldria la vida
sense falsa esperança ni llargues agonies.

[... ] doneu-me paraules de consol.

York: Si ho fes us mentiria.
el consol és al cel, i això és la terra,
on no hi ha més que contrarietats, dolors i penes.

II3

And hope to joy is little less in joy
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done
By sight of what I have, your noble company.

I l'esperança d'una joia és gairebé una joia
comparable a la joia de l'esperança atesa

La gratitud, el tresor dels pobres

II3

HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues
A banish'd traitor: all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

LORD ROSS
Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

LORD WILLOUGHBY
And far surmounts our labour to attain it.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;
Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?

Milords, molt benvinguts! Encara sóc un desterrat
i un traidor que mou el vostre afecte. El meu tresor
és sols una intangible gratitud, que esdevindrà
la recompensa digna al vostre amor i esforços

[...]

La gratitud és el tresor dels pobres,
i ja val com a generositat mentre no sigui
més gran la meva sort.

Captain
'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay.
The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap,
The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war:
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assured Richard their king is dead.

II4

Diuen que el Rei ha mort; no ens quedarem.
S'han marcit els llorers del meu país,
els meteors espanten les estrelles
i la pàl·lida lluna té una lluor de sang.
Profetes demacrats murmuren canvis terrorífics.
Estan tristos els rics, i els vils canten i ballen;
uns perquè temen perdre allò que tenen
i els altres per gaudir de la guerra i la fúria.
Aquests senyals precedeixen la mort o la caiguda dels reis.

III2

KING RICHARD II
Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy
To stand upon my kingdom once again.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favours with my royal hands.

[...]

Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords:
This earth shall have a feeling and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.

III 2

KING RICHARD II
No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let's choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

III, 3

KING RICHARD II
What must the king do now? must he submit?
The king shall do it: must he be deposed?
The king shall be contented: must he lose
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,
My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,
My figured goblets for a dish of wood,
My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff,
My subjects for a pair of carved saints
And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave;
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,
Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;
For on my heart they tread now whilst I live;
And buried once, why not upon my head?
Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin!
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus, to drop them still upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies
Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes.

Què pot fer ara el rei? S’ha de sotmetre? Doncs ho farà. L’hi cal ser deposat? Doncs s’hi resignarà. I si ha de perdre el nom de Rei, que el perdi en nom de Déu!

Canviaré les joies que tinc per un rosari, el meu luxós palau per una ermita. Els meus habillaments pels parracs d’un captaire, els veires cisellats per un plat de terrissa, el ceptre pel bastó d’un pelegrí, els súbdits per estàtues de sants i el meu immes reialme per una pobra tomba, una tomba petita, petita i penombrosa.

O més val que m’enterrin sota el camí ral, o qualsevol camí, on els peus dels meus súbdits trepitgin constantment el cap del Rei, car si ara que sóc viu, em trepitgen el cor, bé poden trepitjar el meu cap quan sigui mort.

¿Plores Aumerle, cosí de cor amable?

Amb el plor de menyspreu farem una tempesta, amb els sospirs agostarem el blat d'estiu i escamparem la fam damunt d'aquesta terra revoltada.

O podem jugar un joc amb els nostres dolors i fer servir les llàgrimes per competir plegats deixant-les caure sempre al mateix lloc fins que hagin excavat les nostres sepultures amb l'epitafi: aquí reposen dos cosins que amb ulls plorosos van cavar llurs fosses.

III, 4

QUEEN
What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care?

Lady
Madam, we'll play at bowls.

QUEEN
'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs,
And that my fortune rubs against the bias.

Lady
Madam, we'll dance.

QUEEN
My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief:
Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.

Lady
Madam, we'll tell tales.

QUEEN
Of sorrow or of joy?

Lady
Of either, madam.

QUEEN
Of neither, girl:
For of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
For what I have I need not to repeat;
And what I want it boots not to complain.

Lady
Madam, I'll sing.

QUEEN
'Tis well that thou hast cause
But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.

Lady
I could weep, madam, would it do you good.

QUEEN
And I could sing, would weeping do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee.

Enter a Gardener, and two Servants

But stay, here come the gardeners:
Let's step into the shadow of these trees.
My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
They'll talk of state; for every one doth so
Against a change; woe is forerun with woe.

QUEEN and Ladies retire

Gardener
Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
Give some supportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou, and like an executioner,
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth:
All must be even in our government.
You thus employ'd, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, which without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

Servant
Why should we in the compass of a pale
Keep law and form and due proportion,
Showing, as in a model, our firm estate,
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up,
Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars?

Gardener
Hold thy peace:
He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf:
The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,
That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke,
I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.

Servant
What, are they dead?

Gardener
They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land
As we this garden! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees,
Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself:
Had he done so to great and growing men,
They might have lived to bear and he to taste
Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.

[...]

QUEEN
Gardener, for telling me thesenews of woe,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies

GARDENER
Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,
I would my skill were subject to thy curse.
Here did she fall a tear; here in this place
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.

R. Quin joc podem jugar en aquest jardí que se’ns endugui els foscos pensaments?
D. Podríem jugar a bitlles.
R. Em faria pensar que el món és ple d’aspreses i que la meva sort va de biaix.
D. Senyora, ballarem.
R. Les cames no em sabrien fer cap pas amb gust i el meu cor apenat tampoc no en pot fer cap. Res de balls, filla meva. Juguem a un altre joc.

D. Contem contes, Senyora.

R. ¿De pena o d’alegria?

D. Del que sigui, Senyora.

R. De res, filla:
Si fossin d’alegria, com que ens fa falta tanta, ens farien pensar més en les penes; i si fossin de pena, que que en tenim de sobra, em farien més trista la falta d’alegria. Del que tinc, no vull pas tenir-ne més; del que no tinc, no me’n vull lamentar.

D. Us cantaré, Senyora.

R. Molt bé, si en teniu ganes, però molt més em complauria que ploréssiu.

D. Senyora, puc plorar, si això us pot fer algun bé,

R. Jo cantaria si el plorar em pugués fer bé, sense demanar-vos mai una llàgrima.

(el jardiner)

Però, calleu. Els jardiners s’acosten.

Amaguem-nos a l’ombra d’aquesta arbres. Aposto la tristesa contra un paper d’agulles que parlen de política. Tothom ho fa quan vénen canvis: la tristesa anuncia la tristesa.

Jardiner: Vés a lligar aquests albercocs balancejants, que, com els nens dolents, fan que el seu pare s’hagi de doblegar sota el seu pes. Posa suports a les branques que es vinclen.

Vés, doncs, i com si fossis un botxí, talla els caps de les branques apressades que s’alcen en excés en la nostra república, perquè el nostre govern vol que tot sigui igual.

I mentre fas això, jo me’n vaig a arrencar les males herbes que, sense profit, xuclen la terra i fan malbé les flors.

Criat: ¿Per què hem de mantenir dintre aquest clos la llei, la forma, la proporció com si fos un model d’un Estat fort, quan el nostre jardí, voltat de mar, tot el país, és ple de males herbes, i no hi viuen les flors, ni hi ha fruiters podats, ni s’hi aguanten les tanques, ni els parterres no es cuiden, i les bones herbes són cobertes de cucs?

J: No parlis més. El que va tancar els ulls als mals primaverals ara recull una tardor amb desordres. Les males herbes que s’hi aixoplugaven han estat arrencades del tot per Bolingbroke. Vull dir el ...

Cr: Per què? Són morts?

J: Ho són, i Bolingbroke s’ha apoderat del Rei. Ah quina pena que no cuidés ni cultivés la seva terra tal com nosaltres el jardí, que quan ve el temps fem una incisió a l’escorça dels fruiters per por que massa plens de saba i sang no es perdin per excés de la seva riquesa. Si s’hagués fet el mateix amb els ambiciosos, haurien pogut viure fins a donar fruits que ell hauria rebut. I les branques supèrflues, les tallem perquè visquin fecundes. Si ell ho hagués fet, encara portaria la corona que han fet caure les hores de dissipació.

[...]

R. Jardiner, per haver-me anunciat dolors, que les plantes que empeltes no puguin créixer mai.

J: Pobra Reina, perquè no empitjorés el vostre estat, acceptaria de bon grat la maledicció. En aquest lloc on han caigut les llàgrimes seves, hi plantaré una ruda, herba de gràcia amarga. La ruda, símbol de la pietat, ens naixerà aviat com a record d’una Reina plorosa.

III 4

KING RICHARD II
Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be;
Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
Now mark me, how I will undo myself;
I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duty's rites:
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, revenues I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny:
God pardon all oaths that are broke to me!

IV 1

KING RICHARD II
No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,
No, not that name was given me at the font,
But 'tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call myself!
O that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!
Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass.

Exit an attendant

NORTHUMBERLAND
Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come.

KING RICHARD II
Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell!

HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.

NORTHUMBERLAND
The commons will not then be satisfied.

KING RICHARD II
They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough,
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

Re-enter Attendant, with a glass

Give me the glass, and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine,
And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity,
Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face
That every day under his household roof
Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink?
Was this the face that faced so many follies,
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:
As brittle as the glory is the face;

Dashes the glass against the ground

For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.
Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.

IV 1

Feu que res no m'apeni, ja que no tinc res.
I a vós, que ho teniu tot, que tot us plagui.

[...]

Ah si pogués ser un rei de broma, fet de neu,
i estar davant el sol de Bolingbroke
i anar-me convertint en gotes d'aigua!
Bon rei, gran rei i tanmateix no massa bo,
si la meva paraula encara té valor
que em portin un mirall ara mateix
per poder veure quina cara tinc
ara que estic nu de majestat.

R. Sí, se’n convencerà. Llegiré prou quan vegi el llibre on tots els meus pecats hi són escrits. I jo sóc aquest llibre.

[entra amb un mirall]

Doneu-me aquest mirall: el llegiré.
¿No hi ha arrugues més fondes? ¿La tristesa,
que ha donat tants de cops sobre el meu rostre,
no l’ha ferit molt més? Mirall adulador
m’enganyes com els que em seguien
en la prosperitat. ¿Aquest rostre és el rostre
que arrecerava més de deu mil homes
sota el seu rostre? ¿Aquest és el rostre
que com el sol feria els ulls de qui el mirava?
¿És aquest front el que afrontava mil follies
i que ha rebut de Bolingbroke l’afront suprem?
Quina fragilitat de glòria que hi brilla
Perquè la glòria és fràgil com un rostre.

[el llença]

Aquí el teniu, trencat en mil trossets
Fixa’t, rei taciturn, en la moral del joc:
Que de pressa el dolor m’ha destruït el rostre!

Bol: És l’ombra del dolor que ha destruït l’ombra del vostre.

R. Repetiu això. ¿L’ombra del meu dolor? Ah, destriem-la.
És veritat; tinc el dolor posat a dintre
I les formes externes del lament
Són meres ombres del dolor invisible
Que fermenta en silenci dintre el meu turment.
A dins hi ha ls substància. I us agraeixo, Rei,
La vostra generositat: no solament
M’heu donat el dolor, sinó també em mostreu
Com lamentar-ne la causa.

---

V 1

KING RICHARD II
Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awaked, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim Necessity, and he and I
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France
And cloister thee in some religious house:
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
Which our profane hours here have stricken down.

QUEEN
What, is my Richard both in shape and mind
Transform'd and weaken'd? hath Bolingbroke deposed
Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart?
The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod,
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion and a king of beasts?

KING RICHARD II
A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts,
I had been still a happy king of men.
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:
Think I am dead and that even here thou takest,
As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire
With good old folks and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages long ago betid;
And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs,
Tell thou the lamentable tale of me
And send the hearers weeping to their beds:
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue
And in compassion weep the fire out;
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.

R. No us feu esclava del dolor, gentil senyora,
apreneu a pensar que abans tot era un somni
feliç, i en despertar-nos, la veritat d'allò que som
se'ns mostra així. Amiga dolça, sóc germà
de la Necessitat, i tant ella com jo
estarem junts fins a la mort. Aneu a França
i tanqueu-vos als claustres d'un convent.

reina (si s'ha afeblit)

R. El rei dels animals! És cert. Si ells fossin animals,
jo podria ser encara el rei dels homes.
Reina, que ja no ho sou, aneu a França.
Imagineu-vos que sóc mort i que rebeu
des del meu llit de mort, el meu últim adéu.
Als llargs captards d'hivern, seieu vora del foc
al costat d'unes velles; deixeu-les explicar
contes d'èpoques tristes i llunyanes,
i abans de dir la bona nit, com a resposta,
conteu la meva lamentable història
perquè se'n vagin a dormir plorant
car fins i tot les brases insensibles,
mogudes per l'accent de les vostres paraules,
deixaran apagar el seu foc amb llàgrimes,
i esdevindran carbó les unes, i les altres cendra
pel dol d'un rei legítim destronat.

V 1

QUEEN
Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part
To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
So, now I have mine own again, be gone,
That I might strive to kill it with a groan.

KING RICHARD II
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

No aviciem el dolor amb lentituds
Només un altre adéu i que parlin les penes.

V, 5

KING RICHARD II
I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world:
And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
With scruples and do set the word itself
Against the word:
As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,
'It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?

Music

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

[...]

He estat pensant com es pot comparar
la presó que m'acull amb aquest món;
però com que aquest món és populós
i aquí no hi ha ningú, llevat de mi,
no puc fer-ho. Potser si m'hi esforcés ...
Faré que el meu cervell i la meva ànima
s'acostin perquè puguin engendrar
tota una gènera de pensaments
perquè repoblin aquest petit món
amb fantasies tristes, com si fossin homes,
perquè tampoc els pensaments no estan contents.
Els més alts, els de continguts divins, es mesclen
amb escrúpols i fan que la Paraula
es contradigui amb la paraula
com "deixeu que els petits vinguin a mi",
o com "És més difícil que un camell
pugui passar pel forat d'una agulla".
Els pensaments ambiciosos forgen
micracles impossibles: esbrinen com poden
aquestes febles unglesfer-se un camí pels flancs
d'aquest món dur: els murs d'aquesta sòrdida presó.
Com que no ho poden fer, es moren dintre del seu orgull.
Els pensaments de resignació, entre ells, s'adulen.
Els diuen: d'altres han estat esclaus de la fortuna
i d'altres en vindran. Con els necis captaires
lligats a la picota que amaguen la vergonya
pensant que molts ja hi han passat, i molts
hi passaran. I en aquests pensaments troben consol
carregant la desgràcia a l'esquena
d'aquells que ja han passat per la desgràcia.
Així jo jugo a ser molts personatges
dels quals cap no és feliç. A voltes, sóc un rei
i les traïcions em fan voler ser pobre,
i ho esdevinc. Després, tanta misèria
em convenç que era molt millor ser rei
i ho torno a ser. Poc a poc m'imagino
que he estat destituït per Bolingbroke
i em converteixo en res. Però, sigui qui sigui,
ni a mi ni a un home que no sigui més que un home,
res no ens complau fins que arriba la calma
de no ser res.

(música)

Sento una música.
Bah, seguiu el compàs; la dolça música m'amarga
quan es trenca el compàs i no hi ha acords.
És igual que en la música de la vida dels homes.
Aquí tinc bona oïda, fàcilment detecto
quan falla algun compàs o quan es desafina.
Però quan el poder i el temps m'eren harmònics
em va mancar l'oïda pel meu ritme fals.
Malversava el meu temps, i ara el temps em malversa
pequè ara el temps m'ha fet tornar rellotge seu:
minuts em són els pensaments; cada segon
m'és un sospir a l'esfera dels ulls,
que m'assenyala el meu dit com una busca
immòbil per copsar les llàgrimes
em mostren els minuts, els temps, les hores;
però el temps vola per donar alegria a Bolingbroke
mentre jo faig l'estúpid ofici del rellotge.

V 5

KING RICHARD II
How now! what means death in this rude assault?
Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

Snatching an axe from a Servant and killing him

Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

Novembre 2003, Poblenou i Solius

Kermode diu que és l'obra bessona de Romeu i Julieta, la més original de les comèdies. Es barreja la trama de Teseu i Hipòlita, les dues parelles nobles de Lisandre, Hèrmia, Helena i Demetri, la colla popular de Bottom que volen representar Pyramus i Tisbe, i el rei i reina de les fades, Oberon i Titània. El tema de l'obra seria el dels desordres de la fantasia i la imaginació. Sembla girar al voltant del verb "dot" que seria sentir un afecte per algú fora de control. [L'home, en teoria criatura racional, sucumbiria a través dels encants que es mostren a l'ull]. I els desordres poden tenir lloc amb més força la nit de sant Joan, en què està permès jugar a l'amor al bosc, fora del control de la ciutat. Al bosc, Oberon vol fer que Puck tiri gotes d'herba màgica a Demetri per tal que s'enamori d'Helena, però el que acaba passant és que tant Lisandre com Demetri s'enamoren d'Helena. I l'orgullosa Titània, de Bottom convertit en un ase. L'amor, però, podrà ser irracional, però també pot ser un camí cap a la gràcia [el boig, l'enamorat, el poeta]. Bottom haurà accedit a algunes coses que al racional príncep Teseu li són estranyes.

L'obra sembla que va ser escrita per representar-se en unes luxoses noces. S'apunta també que Titània i les seves fades podrien haver aludit a la reina Elisabet i la seva cort.

I 1

HERMIA
I would my father look'd but with my eyes.

THESEUS
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.

I 1

Lysander: The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.

HERMIA
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross,
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.

I 1

LYSANDER
I will, my Hermia.

Exit HERMIA

Helena, adieu:
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!

Exit

HELENA
How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
-

I com en poden ser de feliços els altres!
Per tot Atenes em tenen per tan bella com ella
però i què? Demetrius no pensa aisí;
no vol saber el que tots menys ells volen:
I si erra, enamorat dels ulls d'Hermia,
també jo, admirant les seves qualitats:
Coses baixes i vils, que no arriben a res
l'amor ho transposa en forma i dignitat:
l'amor no mira amb els ulls, sinó amb la ment;
i per això l'alat Cupid es pinta cec.

II 1
My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music.

II 1
Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.

PUCK
I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes.

II 1
I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.

Sé d'un pujol on hi floreix la farigola,
broten les violetes i els ciclamens
ben coberts d'una pèrgola de "madreselva" (marfull? )
de rosers que s'enfilen i d'eglantina.

(Oberon a Titània)

II 2
What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take,
Love and languish for his sake:
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
Wake when some vile thing is near.

II 2
Not Hermia but Helena I love:
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd;
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will
And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's stories written in love's richest book.

La raó em du als teus ulls, llibres preciosos
on llegeixo les històries d'amor que l'amor ha escrit

III 2
DEMETRIUS
[Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

III 2

PUCK
My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They willfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

Senyor de les fades, s'haurà de fer aviat
perquè els dracs de la nit ja tallen els núvols
i ja despunta l'herald de l'aurora;
que quan s'acosta, els esperits que vaguen ací i allà
en colla, se'n tornen als cementiris, ànimes condemnades
que enterrades a cruilles i rieres ja han fet cap
al seu llit de cucs, per por a que el dia vegi els seus pecats
ells mateixos s'exilien de la llum
i cerquen acollida en la nit fosca

III 2

HERMIA
Never so weary, never so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,
I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

Mai tan trista, ni tan cansada
esgarrinxada pels esbarzers, coberta de rosada
ja no em puc arrossegar més, ni seguir
les meves cames no poden anar amb els meus desigs.
Aquí reposaré fins que sigui de dia.
Que els cels assisteixin Lisandre si volen brega.

IV 1

TITANIA
Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

V 1

HIPPOLYTA
'Tis strange my Theseus, that these
lovers speak of.

THESEUS
More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

Estrany, Teseu, això de què parlen aquests amants
Més estrany que cert. Mai no em creuria
les faules antigues ni els contes de fades.
Enamorats i bojos tenen ments tan febrils
fantasies tan creadores, que copsen
més del que la freda raó pot arribar mai a entendre.
El boig, l'amant i el poeta
estan plens d'imaginació :
l'un veu més dimonis dels que pot contenir el vast infern,
aquest el boig: l'enamorat, igualment fora d'ell
veu la bellesa d'Helena en una gitana d'egipte:
l'ull del poeta, en diví frenesí,
mira del cel a la terra, de la terra al cel;
i tal com la imaginació enfendra
les formes de les coses desconegudes, la ploma del poeta
les converteix en formes i al no res impalpable dóna
un lloc i un nom.
La imaginació forta té aquestes coses,
que si només volia concebre alguna alegria
entendrà algú que porti aquesta alegria;
o si, de nit, imaginava una por
com n'és de fàcil prendre un bruc per un ós!

V 1

THESEUS
Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?

Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE
Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Solius, agost 2003

Sobre la lletra dels contractes i sobre els jueus.. Bassànio demana diners a Antonio per poder fer la cort a Pòrcia. Antonio que té manca de liquidesa, demana 3.000 ducats a Shylock que li fa signar una lliure de carn com a garantia. Tres pretendents demanen la ma de Porcia. Antonio no pot tornar els diners i és dut a judici, on el defensa Pòrcia disfressada i fa valdre el principi que segons la lletra del contracte té dret a una lliura de carn però no a vessar sang. Demana un anell a Bassànio com a recompensa per haver guanyat el cas i un cop a casa li retreu que l'hagi perdut.

I, 1

SALARINO
My wind cooling my broth
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
To kiss her burial.

El meu buf, refredant només la sopa,
ja em donaria febre d'evocar
com un vent massa fort pot fer desgràcies
al mar. I no veuria com es buida
el rellotge d'arena, sens pensar
en els sotaigües i en els bancs de sorra,
ni contemplar el meu valuós "Andrew"
amorrat de gairell, amb l'arbre mestre
ajupit fins per sota de les bandes,
besant el seu sepulcre.

I,1

BASSANIO
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
have them, they are not worth the search.

Graziano xerra un gran munt de nores, més que cal altre home a Venècia.
Els seus raonaments són com dos grans de blat perduts dins dues quarteres de palla.
Gasteu tot un dia abans no els heu trobat, i, quan els teniu, veieu que no valia le pena cercar-los.

I, 2

PORTIA
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to
do, chapels had been churches and poor men's
cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that
follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may
devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
cripple.

Si fer fos tan fàcil com saber que cal fer, les capelles haurien estat esglésies i les cases dels pobres palaus de prínceps. És un bon predicador qui segueix les seves pròpies prèdiques. M'és més fàcil ensenyar a una vintena quin és el bon camí que no pas ser un d'aquests vint i seguir els meus propis ensenyaments. El cervell pot proclamar lleis per a la sang, però un temperament càlid salta damunt d'una llei freda. Com una llebre és la folla joventut passant damunt les trampes del xacrós bon consell.

III, 1

SHYLOCK
To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else,
it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and
hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses,
mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my
bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine
enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath
not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
to the same diseases, healed by the same means,
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as
a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison
us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not
revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will
resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,
what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian
wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by
Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you
teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I
will better the instruction.

Per a engreixar els peixos; si no pot atipar res millor, atiparà la meva venjança. M'ha omplert d'oprobi, m'ha fet esguerrar mig milió, s'ha rigut de les meves pèrdues, s'ha fumut dels meus guanys; ha escarnit el meu poble; ha desbaratat els meus negocis; ha refredat els meus amics; ha inflat els meus enemics. I tot, ¿per quina raó? ¿Per què jo sóc jueu? ¿I que no té ulls un jueu? ¿Que no té mans, ni membres, ni proporcions, ni sentits, ni afectes, ni passions? ¿No menja la mateixa teca? ¿No és ferit amb les mateixes armes? ¿No està subjecte a les mateixes malalties, curat pels mateixos mitjans i escalfat i refredat pels mateixos estiu i hivern que qualsevol cristià? Si ens punxeu, ¿no sagnem? Si ens feu pessigolles, ¿no ens posem a riure? Si ens emmetzineu, ¿no ens morim? I, si ens ultratgeu, ¿és que no ens hem de venjar? Si en tot el restant ens assemblem, també ens haurem d'assemblar en això. Si un jueu ofèn un cristià, ¿quina és la humilitat del cristià? La venjança. I, si un cristià ofèn un jueu, ¿quina mena d epaciència tindrà el jueu, si segueix l'exemple del cristià? Doncs, la venjança! La bretoleria que vosaltres m'ensenyeu, jo la practicaré, i ja fóra pelut que jo no ho fes millor que els mestres!

III, 2
u.

PORTIA
You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.

Em veieu, Senyor Bassànio, aquí on estic,
tal com sóc: tot i que si fos per mi sola
no voldria ser pas ambiciosa de voler ser molt millor;
tot i això, per a vós, voldria triplicar-me mil cops
i ser més bella mil vegades i més rica deu mil.
I, només per elevar-me encara més del que vós m'estimeu,
voldria, en virtuts, en bellesa i en riqueses i en amistats
ultrapassar-ho tot.
Mes la completa suma del meu ésser
és una suma de ben poca cosa, i mirat a l'engròs, no soc res més que una noia
ni experta, ni instruïda, ni bregada; feliç, però, perquè
no és pas tan vella que no pugui aprendre,
i més feliç perquè no és pas mancada per a l'estudi, i sobretot feliç
de confiar la seva ànima dòcil a la cura de vós, per dirigir-la
com el seu amo, el seu governador, i el seu rei.

III, 3

SHYLOCK
I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond:
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request.

ANTONIO
I pray thee, hear me speak.

SHYLOCK
I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond.

III, 5

JESSICA
I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a
Christian.

LAUNCELOT
Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians
enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by
another. This making Christians will raise the
price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we
shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.

Enter LORENZO

JESSICA
I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.

LORENZO
I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if
you thus get my wife into corners.

JESSICA
Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I
are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for
me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he
says, you are no good member of the commonwealth,
for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the
price of pork.

Tan fer-se cristians fara que pugi el preu de les botifarres; si tots ens posem a menjar carn de porc, ni a força de diners ens podrem fer una bona llonza a la brasa.

[...]

Lancelot i jo estem de punta. Em deia, sense embuts, que no hi ha en el cel gràcia per a mi, perquè sóc filla d'un jueu, i afirma que vós no sou un bon ciutadà de la república, perquè convertint jueus en cristians feu pujar el preu del porc.

IV, 1

SHYLOCK
What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
You have among you many a purchased slave,
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds
Be made as soft as yours and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands? You will answer
'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you:
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it.
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?

¿I a mi quina sentència m'ha d'esverar, si jo no he fet cap mal?
Teniu esclaus vosaltres, que com mules i com ases i gossos feu servir en les feines més baixes, més abjectes, pequè els haveu comprat. ¿I jo he de dir-vos o que els allibereu o que els caseu amb les vostres pubilles? ¿Per què suen sota els farcells? ¿Per què llur llit no és tou com el vostre i per què, llur paladar, no el regaleu amb una igual vianda? I em rspondreu: "aquests són esclaus nostres." I així jo també us responc: aquesta lliura de carn que jo demano, l'he comprat i l'he pagat prou cara, i com que és meva, la vull, i se'm nega, maleïdes siguin les vostres lleis! El que Venècia decretarà ja no tindrà més força. Vull justícia; digueu-me: ¿la tindré?

IV, 1

PORTIA
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.

Mai la clemència no és obligatòria;
cau com la dolça pluja cau del cel
damunt del pla. Dos cops és beneïda:
beneeix al qui la dóna i al qui la rep.
Entre els més alts poders és la més alta,
i li està molt millor que la corona
al monarca assegut en el seu tron.
El ceptre ve a representar la força
del temporal poder, i és el que dicta
la por i la majestat, que fa que es temin
i es respectin els reis. Mes la clemència
plana damunt l'autoritat del ceptre,
viu en el cor dels reis entronitzada
i és com un atribut de Déu mateix,
i el poder de la terra més s'assembla
a Déu com més tempera la justícia
amb la clemència.

IV, 1

PORTIA
Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.

Tu, doncs, preprara't per tallar la carn;
gens de sang! I no tallis més ni menys
d'una lliura, perquè, si la depasses
o no hi arribes, si no fas el pes,
encara que sols per un vigèsim
de gram, o desnivelles la balança
sols d'un gruix de cabell, te'n fas la vida
i et confisquen els béns

V, 1
And ran dismay'd away.

LORENZO
In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.

JESSICA
In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.

LORENZO
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.

JESSICA
In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And ne'er a true one.

LORENZO
In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

ETC ETC

LORENZO
Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter: why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.

Exit Stephano

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

Enter Musicians

Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.

Music

JESSICA
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

LORENZO
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

Ànima dolça, entrem per esperar
llur arribada. Mes no val la pena;
¿per qè hem d'entrar? Si us plau, amic Estèfano,
aneu a anunciar dintre la casa
que està a punt d'arribar vostra mestressa
i porteu vostres músics perquè toquin
a l'aire lliure. (surt E). Mira, sobre el marge,
que dolçament hi dorm el clar de lluna!
Anem-hi a seure, i que ens regali el so
de la música dintre les orelles.
Una calma suau i una nit clara,
amb la dolça harmonia, com s'hi avenen!
Jessica, seu. ¿No veus el firmament
clavetejat d'innúmeres patenes
d'or brillant? Ni tan sols la més petita
de les esferes que tu veus no deixa,
amb el seu moviment, de fer una música
semblant al cant dels àngels, que concorda
amb la dels querubins sempre d'ulls joves.
Harmonia semblant rau en les ànimes
immortals, però fins que tomba aquesta
roba de fang que tan grollerament
les empresa no podem sentir-la.
entren els músics
Veniu, i amb himnes desperteu Diana!
Amb les més dolces notes percudiu
de la mestressa vostra les oïdes,
i amb músiques porteu-la a casa seva.

JESSICA:
Mai no estic contenta quan escolta una música dolça

L
La raó és que absorbeix els vostres sentits. Fixeu-vos
en un ramat salvatge i jogasser,
en una jove indòmita poltrada
fent cabrioles, renillant, bufant
i de la sang seguint la llei calenta;
si per atzar una trompeta sona
o una tonada els frega les orelles,
veureu com de seguida resten quiets
tots plegats, i veureu com l'ull salvatge
guaita tímidament per la dolçor
del poder de la música. Els poetes,
per tal motiu, han dit que Orfeu atreia
els arbres i les pedres i els torrents,
perquè al món no hi ha res, per dur que sigui,
per aspre i furiós, que en un moment
no pugui canviar-se, sota l'encís
de la música. L'home que no té
música en ell mateix, que no es commou
d'una concòrdia de tonades dolces,
serà pastat per a traïdories
i estratagemes i espoliacions;
seran els moviments de la seva ànima
sords com la nit, i negres com l'Erebos
tots els seus sentiments. D'un home així,
no us en fieu. I, ara, escolteu la música.

Solius, agost 2003

Sobre les lluites de poder i les manipulacions de l'església, per obtenir drets sobre terres i rendes. KJohn és requerit pel rei de França a cedir la corona al jove Artur. Lluiten pel control d'Angers (que es nega a decidir-se per l'un o l'altre, que demostrin qui és el més fort). El conflicte s'caba quan es decideix.casar a Blanca, neboda de JOan amb el delfí de França. Però l'enviat del Papa, força Felip a atacar els anglesos que no es volen sotmetre. KJohn rapta Artur i dóna ordres de matar-lo a Hubert, que al final no ho fa. Artur mor en intentar escapar-se. KJohn se sotmet als requeriments de l'enviat del Papa però no pot aturar els francesos que a més han aconseguit suport de rebels anglesos descontents per la mala política de KJohn a qui atribueixen l'assassinat d'Artur. Al final els anglesos s'uneixen i els francesos opten per la pau.

Figura del bastard de Ricard Cor de Lleó, Plantagenet decidit.

II, 2

First Citizen
That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch,
Is niece to England: look upon the years
Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid:
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch?

Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete:
If not complete of, say he is not she;
And she again wants nothing, to name want,
If want it be not that she is not he:
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in;
And two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.

Tal com és ella, en bellesa, virtut, naixement, el jove Dofí és complet en tots els aspectes:
Si no és que és mancat de qye ell no és ella;
i si ella hauria de voler alguna cosa que es pugui dir desitjable,
no seria sinó que ella no és ell:
ell és la meitat d'un home perfecte
a qui li resta ser acabat per algú com ella;
i ella és un bella excel·lència dividida,
la completesa de la perfeció del qual rau en ell.

This union shall do more than battery can
To our fast-closed gates; for at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance: but without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion, no, not Death himself
In moral fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.

II, 1

LEWIS
I do, my lord; and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye:
Which being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow:
I do protest I never loved myself
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

LLUIS

És el que faig, senyor, i en els seus ulls hi descobreixo una meravella, un miracle meravellós. La meva pròpia ombra es reflexa en els seus ulls; i aquest reflex, encara que no sigui sinó l'ombra del vostre fill, es converteix en un sol i redueix el vostre fill a l'estat d'ombra: juro que mai no m'havia estimat tant com ara, que contemplo la meva pròpia imatge dibuixada en la tela afalagadora dels seus ulls.

II, 2

BASTARD
Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part,
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field
As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who, having no external thing to lose
But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that,
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this Commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.

[commodity: no seria bé o guany?]

Món boig! Reis bojos! boja aliança! En Joan, per acabar amb les pretensions d'Artur, n'ha deixat estar voluntàriament una part; i França, que sota els dictats de la seva consciència havia cedit en la seva armadura, que la virtut i la caritat havien dut al camp de batalla com a soldat de Déu, s'ha deixat seduir les orelles per aquest pèrfid dimoni, canviador de propòsits, per aquest intrús que perpètuament assumeix la bona fe, per aquest trenca promeses quotidià, pel que estafa a tot el món: als reis i als captaires, als vells, als joves, a les donzelles; pel qui, no tenint altra cosa externa a perdre fora de la paraula "verge", la pren a la pobra verge; per aquest senyor de rostre pulit que s'anomena Interès. ¡L'interès, la inclinació del món! El món, per si mateix, estava en un bon equilibri, rodava per un terreny pla, quan l'Interès, aquest pendent vil i irresistible, aquest amo tirà dels nostres moviments, li va fer canviar de front contra tota lògica, sense tornar-li la seva direcció, objecte, curs, propòsit. I aquesta mateixa inclinació, obstacle, aquest trampós, sargidor de voluntats, aquest mot que canvia totes les coses, que hauria d'haver brillat per sobre dels ulls del versàtil Rei de França, li ha fet retirar l'ajuda que estava disposat a donar, i d'una guerra acabada amb honor, l'ha llençat a una pau vil i concertada amb baixesa. I jo, perquè me'n burlo d'aquest Interès? Perquè no m'ha fet la cort encara. No és que jo tingués valor per tancar la meva mà quan els seus formosos àngels vulguessin saludar la meva palma; però com que la meva mà no n'ha sentit encara la temptació, sembla un pobre captaire despotricant conta un ric. Bé, mentre sigui un captaire, renegaré i diré que no hi ha altre pecat que el de ser ric; i quan sigui ric, la meva virtud consistirà a dir que l'únic vici és la pobresa. Ja que els reis trenquen el jurament pel guany, Benefici, sigues la meva deessa, que vull retre't culte!

III, 1
KING PHILIP
'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day
Ever in France shall be kept festival:
To solemnize this day the glorious sun
Stays in his course and plays the alchemist,
Turning with splendor of his precious eye
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course that brings this day about
Shall never see it but a holiday.

És cert, filla meva, i aquest dia beneït serà sempre festiu a França: per fer solemne aquest dia el sol gloriós s'atura en el seu curs i fa d'alquimista, convertint amb l'esplendor del seu ull preciós la magre terra en or que brilla: el camí anual que du fins aquest dia no el veurà sinó en vacances.

[en aquesta escena també referències a l'excomunió i manipulació]

---

III, 4

CONSTANCE
No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation.

CARDINAL PANDULPH
Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.

CONSTANCE
Thou art not holy to belie me so;
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not mad: I would to heaven I were!
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal;
For being not mad but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliver'd of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself:
If I were mad, I should forget my son,
Or madly think a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.

KING PHILIP
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.

C.- No, res de silenci, tenint alè per plorar. Ai! si la meva llengua fos a la boca del tro! Aleshores faria tremolar el món amb l'explosió del meu dolor, i despertaria del son que va caure aquesta anatomia que resta sorda a la veu d'una dona dèbil i es burla d'una invocació vulgar.

P. Senyora, és bogeria i no dolor el que dieu.

C. No ets pas sant en calumniar-me així. No estic boja, són meus aquests cabells que arrenco; el meu nom és Constança, vaig ser esposa de Godofred. El jove Artur és el meu fill i l'he perdut! No estic boja, [...]

KP. Feu-vos aquestes trenes. Oh! quin amor veig en la bella multitud d'aquests cabells seus! On per atzar una gota de plata hi hagués caigut, fins i tot en aquesta gota deu mil amics fins com la seda s'hi adhereixen junts, en pena sociable, com fidels, inseparables amants de debó, que s'estan junts en la calamitat.

IV, 2

SALISBURY
Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

[després d'una segona coronació]

Així, prendre una doble pompa, servar un títol que ja era tic abans, daurar l'or fi, pintar el lliri, llençar perfum a la violeta, refrescar el gel, afegir un altre to a l'arc de sant martí, o mirar d'il·Luminar amb la llum d'una torxa l'ull esplèndid dels cels, no és sinó un excés malbaratador i ridícul.

IV, 3
el bastard acusant Hubert de la mort d'Artur

BASTARD
If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair;
And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to strangle thee, a rush will be a beam
To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.
I do suspect thee very grievously.

Només que hagis consentit a aquest acte cruel, no et queda sinó desesperar; si necessitesis una corda, amb el més petit fil que mai una aranya hagi teixit al seu ventre n'hi haurà prou per estrangular-te; una canya farà de biga per penjar-t'hi; o si et vulguessis ofegar, posar una mica d'aigua a una cullera, i serà com l'oceà sencer. N'hi haurà prou per ofegar un miserable com tu.

V, 7

PRINCE HENRY
O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies,
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death
should sing.

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

SALISBURY
Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born
To set a form upon that indigest
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

Enter Attendants, and BIGOT, carrying KING JOHN in a chair

Ai la vanitat de la malaltia! Les sensacions extremes quan persisteixen acaben que no se senten elles mateixes. La mort. després d'haver guanyat les parts de fora, els deixa invisibles, i el seu setge és ara contra la ment, a qui punxa i fereix amb moltes legions de fantasies estranyes, les quals, en l'embarbuuix i pressa per aquest últim assalt, es barregen i es confonen. Ja és ben estrany que la mort pugui cantar. I jo sóc la cria d'aquest cigne pàl·lid que defalleix, que canta un himne de dol per la seva pròpia mort i del seu orgue fràgil canta la seva ànima i el seu cos fins al repòs final.

S. Tingueu esperança, príncep, car heu nascut per reformar el que ha quedat sense forma i caòtic que ell ha deixat.

KING JOHN
Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room;
It would not out at windows nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment, and against this fire
Do I shrink up.

PRINCE HENRY
How fares your majesty?

KING JOHN
Poison'd,--ill fare--dead, forsook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw,
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips
And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

KJ.-Ai, doncs sí, ara la meva ànima té espai [elbow-room]; ja no necessita, si vol sortir, de portes ni de finestres. Dins meu hi ha un estiu tan calorós, que les meves entranyes es desfan en pols: sóc una forma gargotejada, dibuixada per una ploma sobre un pergamí, que em retorço per aquest foc.

PH.- Com us trobeu, majestat?

KJ.- Enverinat, malament, mort, abandonat, perdut. I cap de vosaltres ordenarà l'hivern que vingui per enfonsar a la meva gorja els seus dits gelats, o que facin córrer els rius del meu regne per dins del meu pit, o que la tramuntana besi amb els seus vents rudes els meus llavis ardents i em confortin amb el fred. No us demano massa, no us demano sinó una fresca que em comfirti; i sou tant avars i ingrats, que m'ho negueu.

Solius, agost 2003

L'Enric que es va rebelar contra Ricard II ara és un rei malalt i confús que ha d'afrontar la sublevació de Gales (Glendower, Northumbeland, Hotspur). El seu fill en lloc d'estar per les tasques de regnar es dedica a passar-s'ho bé amb el grup de bergants de Falstaff. A la batalla final Hal (Henry) assumeix la seva dimensió moral i participa en la guerra matant a Hotspur.

A la segona part, el germà de Hal Lancaster, segueix la guerra contra els rebels. Els enganya oferint-los la pau i els fa presoners. Henry IV jau al llit, moribund i preocupat per si el seu fill podrà governar. Henry s'emprova la corona, s'aparta de Falstaff.

El tema de l'obra és la regeneració moral de Hal que va paral·lela a la d'Anglaterra (i que culminarà a Henry V amb la guerra amb França). I alhora té el contrapunt còmic del barrut de Falstaff que apareixerà també a The merry wifes of Windsor.

Kermode assenyala que Henry IV és important perquè marca un canvi cap a més presència de la prosa, al voltant d'un 50% (en les comèdies n'hi ha més que no pas en les tragèdies). I a raó no seria altra que el personatge de Falstaff. En ell diu Kermode que hi ha una paròdia d'antigues formes dramàtiques. Per fer contrastar més encara la nova prosa en Falstaff, Shakespeare s'inventa Pistol que parla amb el vers antic.

El temps de Falstaff

I, ii

PRINCE HENRY

Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack
and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon
benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to
demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know.
What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the
day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes
capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and dials the
signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself
a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no
reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand
the time of the day.

T'has embrutit tant, de beure vi ranci, de descordar-te havent sopat i de dormir als bancs, que has oblidat el que vols saber de debó. Què carai tens tu a veure amb el moment del dia? A no ser que les hores siguin com copes de vi ranci, els minuts capons, els rellotges les llengües de les alcavotes, els quadrants els signes de les cases de barrets i el mateix sol beneït una formosa mossa excitant en tafetà de colors encesos, no veig cap raó per la qual hauries de ser tan superflu com per demanar quina hora és del dia.

Falstaff, fent de rei parlant de Falstaff

II iv

PRINCE HENRY

What manner of man, an it like your majesty?

FALSTAFF

A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a
cheerful look, a pleasing eye and a most noble
carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or,
by'r lady, inclining to three score; and now I
remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man
should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry,
I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be
known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then,
peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that
Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell
me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast
thou been this month?

Un home que fa goig, a fe de Déu, i corpulent, d'aspecte alegre, ull content i la més noble carcassa; i, ara que i penso, deu tenir uns cinquanta anys, o per la verge, potser va cap a la seixantena; i ara que hi penso, el seu nom és Falstaff: i si aquest home tendís a la disbauxa, m'enganyaria perquè, Harry, veig virtut en el seu esguard. I si l'arbre ha de ser conegut pel seu fruit, tal com el fruit per l'arbre, aleshores sí que afirmo rotundament que hi ha virtut en aquest Fastaff. Conserva'l i que se'n vagin els altres. I ara digues, mala peça, on has estat aquest mes?

[..]

[ara Henry fa de pare que es dirigeix al seu fill]

PRINCE HENRY

Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look
on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace:
there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an
old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why
dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that
bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel
of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed
cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with
the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that
grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in
years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and
drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a
capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft?
wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous,
but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

Així jures noi ingrat? D'ara endavant no em miris més. Us heu apartat violentament de la gràcia, hi ha un dimoni que us té encantat i que té l'aspecte d'un home gras i vell, un bocoi d'home, aquest és el teu company. Perquè converses amb aquest bagul de bestieses, aquesta arca plena de bestialitar, aquest farcell de licors, aquest enorme bombarda de vi ranci, aquest portamantes de tripes, aquest bou de Maningtree rostit amb el pudding a la panxa,; aquest reverend vici, aquesta grisa iniquitat, aquest pare canalla, aquesta vanitat que s'ha fet gran? Què hi guanyes sinó tastar el vi ranci i beure'l? On hi ha la pulcritud i destresa sinó per trinxar un capó i menjar-te'l? On l'habilitat sinó en l'ardit? On l'ardidesa sinó en la malifeta? on el mal sinó arreu? on el bo sinó en no res?

FALSTAFF

I would your grace would take me with you: whom
means your grace?

PRINCE HENRY

That villanous abominable misleader of youth,
Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

FALSTAFF

My lord, the man I know.

PRINCE HENRY

I know thou dost.

FALSTAFF

But to say I know more harm in him than in myself,
were to say more than I know. That he is old, the
more the pity, his white hairs do witness it; but
that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster,
that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault,
God help the wicked! if to be old and merry be a
sin, then many an old host that I know is damned: if
to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine
are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto,
banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack
Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff,
valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant,
being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him
thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's
company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.

Però dir que conec més mal en ell que en mi mateix seria dir més del que sé. Que sigui vell, tan més a plànyer'l, els seus cabells blancs ho testimonien; però que sigui, amb el respecte degut, un habitual de les putes, això ho nego del tot. I si el vi ranci i el sucre són una falta, que Déu ajudi el maleit! si se vell i alegre és un pecat, aleshores n'hi molts que conec que s'haurien de condemanr: si ser gras ha de ser odiós, aleshores les vaques primes del Faraó s'han d'estimar. No, bon senyor meu, desfeu-vos de Peo, fora Bardolph, fora Poins: però pel bon Jack Falstaff, l'amable Jack F, el fidel JF, el valent JF i però encara més valent per tal com és, el bon vell Jack Falstaff, no el bandegeu de la companyia de Harry. Fer fora el gros Jack és fer fora el món sencer.

II iv

PRINCE HENRY

What men?

Sheriff

One of them is well known, my gracious lord,
A gross fat man.

Carrier

As fat as butter.

Geologia

III, 1

HOTSPUR

O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.

Aleshores la terra tremolà de veure els cels encesos, i no de por del vostre naixement. La natura malalta a vegades du erupcions estranyes; sovint la terra, de fèrtils entranyes és convulsionada per una mena de còlic procedent d'un aire rebel presoner del seu ventre; el qual cercant espais més amples, sacseja la vella senyora terra i fa caure campanars i torres plenes de molsa. Quan vau néixer, la nostra àvia la terra, tenint una febrada així, va tremolar.

III, 3

Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH

FALSTAFF

Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last
action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why my
skin hangs about me like an like an old lady's loose
gown; I am withered like an old apple-john. Well,
I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some
liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I
shall have no strength to repent. An I have not
forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I
am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a
church! Company, villanous company, hath been the
spoil of me.

BARDOLPH

Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

FALSTAFF

Why, there is it: come sing me a bawdy song; make
me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman
need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not
above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house once
in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I
borrowed, three of four times; lived well and in
good compass: and now I live out of all order, out
of all compass.

BARDOLPH

Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs
be out of all compass, out of all reasonable
compass, Sir John.

FALSTAFF

Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life:
thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in
the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the
Knight of the Burning Lamp.

BARDOLPH

Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

FALSTAFF

No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many
a man doth of a Death's-head or a memento mori: I
never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and
Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his
robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way
given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath
should be 'By this fire, that's God's angel:' but
thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but
for the light in thy face, the son of utter
darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the
night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou
hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire,
there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a
perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light!
Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and
torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt
tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast
drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap
at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have
maintained that salamander of yours with fire any
time this two and thirty years; God reward me for
it!

Falstaff i miss Quickly

III, 3

FALSTAFF

There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed
prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn
fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the
deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing,
go

Hostess

Say, what thing? what thing?

FALSTAFF

What thing! why, a thing to thank God on.

Hostess

I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou
shouldst know it; I am an honest man's wife: and,
setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to
call me so.

FALSTAFF

Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say
otherwise.

Hostess

Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?

FALSTAFF

What beast! why, an otter.

PRINCE HENRY

An otter, Sir John! Why an otter?

La butxaca de Falstaff

III, 3

FALSTAFF

The king himself is to be feared as the lion.

Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father?

Nay an I do, I pray God my girde break.

El rei s'ha de tèmer com un lleó. Penseu que us temo com temo el vostre pare? I ara, si fos així, que Déu em reventi el ventre.

PRINCE HENRY

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy
knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith,
truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all
filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest
woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson,
impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in
thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of
bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of
sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket
were enriched with any other injuries but these, I
am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will
not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed?

Si això arribés, com caurien els teus budells pels teus genolls! Però, brivall, en el teu ventre no hi caben la fe, la veritat i l'honradesa; tot és ple de tripes i diafragma. Mira que acusar una dona honesta de buidar-te la butxaca! I doncs, fill de puta, impúdic, desgraciat, si hi ha alguna cosa a la teva butxaca no seran sinó comptes de taverna, notas de cases de barrets i un tros de sucre candi d'un ral per allargar-te l'alè pudent, si les teves butxaques eren riques d'altres coses que aquestes, jo soc un bergant: i amb tot, encara voldreu mantenir-ho així i tenir raó, no us fa vergonya?

L'honor de Falstaff

V 1

FALSTAFF

'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before
his day. What need I be so forward with him that
calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks
me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I
come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or
an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no.
Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is
honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what
is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it?
he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no.
Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then. Yea,
to the dead. But will it not live with the living?
no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore
I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so
ends my catechism.

Encara no és l'hora, i em repugnaria pagar-ho abans del venciment. Quina necessitat tinc de ficar-me on no em demanen? Bé, això no és res, l'honor em punxa endavant. Si, però què hi ha si l'honor em punxa enrera quan avanci? Aleshores què? Pot l'honor restablir-me una cama? no: o un braç? no: o llevar-me el dolor d'una ferida? no. Té l'honor habilitat en la cirurgia, doncs? no. Què és l'honor? un mot. Què hi ha en aquest not honor? quin és aquest honor? aire. Un ornament car! Qui el té? El que morí dimecres. El sent? no. L'escolta? no. És insensible soncs. Sí, pels morts. Però, no podria viure amb els vius? no. Perquè? la detracció no ho suportaria. Així que res d'això. L'honor no és sinó un escut d'armes, i aquí acaba el meu catecisme.

Mort de Percy Hotspur

V 4

HOTSPUR

O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth!
I better brook the loss of brittle life
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts worse than sword my flesh:
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art dust
And food for--

Dies

Ai Harry, m'has robat la joventut! I abans suportaria millor la pèrdua de la fràgil existència que aquests títols orgullosos que m'has guanyat; fereixen els meus pensaments pitjos que no pas l'espasa la meva carn: però els pensaments són els esclaus de la vida, i la vida és el ximple del temps; i el temps, que s'encarrega de tot el món, s'ha d'aturar. Ai, podria profetitzar, però que aquesta sorrosa i freda ma de la mort em lliga la llengua: no, Percy, sou pols i aliment pels ...

PRINCE HENRY

For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart!
Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal:
But let my favours hide thy mangled face;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!

pels cucs, brau Percy, adeu siau, cor gran! Ambició mal teixida, com et veus destrossada! Quan aquest cos contenia un esperit, un regne li era un límit massa petit; però ara amb sis pams de la terra més vil n'hi haurà prou: aquesta terra que el sosté mort no aguanta viu cap altre senyor més ferm.

El rostre, com un llibre

I i

NORTHUMBERLAND

Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

Si, el front d'aquest home, com la portada d'un llibre, anuncia la natura d'un volum tràgic: així es veu una platja on l'onatge imperiós ha deixat la petja de la seva usurpació

Anàlisi d'orina

I ii
FALSTAFF

Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?

Page

He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy
water; but, for the party that owed it, he might
have more diseases than he knew for.

FALSTAFF

Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the
brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not
able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more
than I invent or is invented on me: I am not only
witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other
men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that
hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the
prince put thee into my service for any other reason
than to set me off, why then I have no judgment.
Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn
in my cap than to wait at my heels.

F- A veure, senyor, gegant, que en diu el doctor de la meva orina?

P - En diu, senyor, que l'orina en si mateixa era orina bona i sana, però, que pel que fa a la persona d'on venia, que podia tenir més malalties de les que podia conèixer.

F - Homes de tota mena s'enorgulleixen de fer broma sobre mi: el cervell d'aquesta argila formada de ximpleria, l'home, no és capaç d'inventar res que faci riure, que no el que jo inventi o el que s'inventi sobre mi: no només sóc chistós en mi mateix, sinó la causa dels chistes que fan els altres. Aquí camino davant teu com una truja que esclafat tota la seva --- llevat d'un. Si el príncep t'ha posat al meu servei per una raó que no sigui la de fer-me de contrast, aleshores és que no tinc seny. Tu, mandràgora fill de puta, quedaries millor ornant el meu capell que seguint-me els talons.

Una apoplexia cabrona

I ii

FALSTAFF

And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into
this same whoreson apoplexy.
Lord Chief-Justice Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with
you.

FALSTAFF

This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,
an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the
blood, a whoreson tingling.
Lord Chief-Justice What tell you me of it? be it as it is.

FALSTAFF

It hath its original from much grief, from study and
perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of
his effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness.
Lord Chief-Justice I think you are fallen into the disease; for you
hear not what I say to you.

F- Pel que he sentit, a més, sa altesa ha caigut en la mateixa cabrona apoplexía.

J - Bé, que Déu el millori

F - Aquesta apoplexía és, tal com ho veig, una mena de letargia, i si sa senyoria m'ho permet, una mena de son de la sang, un zumzeig ben cabró.

J-

F - Té el seu origen en el molt patir, en l'estudi i la pertorbació del cervell. N'he llegit la causa dels seus efectes en Galè, és una mena de sordesa.

J - Penso que sou vós qui ha caigut en aquesta malaltia, ja que no sentiu el que us dic.

Falstaff, jove, vell?

I ii

FALSTAFF

Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope
he that looks upon me will take me without weighing:
and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I
cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these
costermonger times that true valour is turned
bear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath
his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the
other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of
this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry.
You that are old consider not the capacities of us
that are young; you do measure the heat of our
livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we
that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess,
are wags too.
Lord Chief-Justice Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth,
that are written down old with all the characters of
age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a
yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an
increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your
wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and
every part about you blasted with antiquity? and
will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!

F - [àngel dolent que segueix el príncep] No tant, senyor meu, el vostre àngel malvat és lleuger; però espero que qui es fixi en mi em prengui sense pesar-me, i amb tot, en alguns aspectes, confesso que no puc passar, no sabria dir perquè. La virtut és tan poc considerada en aquests temps on només es mira el diner que el valor de debó s'ha tornat un domador d'ossos; el geni s'ha fet cambrer i malgasta el seu enginy en calcular el compte; de tots els altres dons que pertanyen a l'home, tal com els deforma la malícia d'aquests temps, no n'hi ha cap que valgui ni un gerd. Vós que sou gran no aprecieu les capacitats de nosaltres els joves; mesureu la calor del vostre fetge per l'amargor de la vostra bilis; però els que estem a la flor de la nostre joventut de tant en tant ens mostrem calaveres, ho hem de confesar.

L - Com us atreveiu a inscriure el vostre nom a la llista de la joventut, vos que poreu escrit "vell" amb tots els caràcters de l'edat? No teniu els ulls humits? la ma seca? la galta groga? la barba blanca? la cama minvant? el ventre creixent? no teniu la veu trencada? us falta l'alè? la papada doble? l'enginy simple? i no teniu cada una de les vostres parts gastada per l'antiguetat? i encara voleu dir-vos jove? fugiu, fugiu, Sir John!

Projectes que es compliquen, arquitectura

I iii

LORD BARDOLPH

Yes, if this present quality of war,
Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot
Lives so in hope as in an early spring
We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection;
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at last desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work,
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up, should we survey
The plot of situation and the model,
Consent upon a sure foundation,
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else
We fortify in paper and in figures,
Using the names of men instead of men:
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.

Sí, en una guerra com aquesta, en una acció com en la d'aquests instants, l'esperança d'una causa que és al seu inici és com la d'una primavera precoç que veiem en els brots que neixen; l'esperança no dóna més crèdit per comptar que donaran fruit que no pas per pensar que els destruirà la glaçada. Així, quan volem construir, primer mirem el la ubiació, després dibuixem un model; i si quan veiem la forma de la casa, aleshores avaluem el cost de la construcció, i si resulta que ultrapassa les nostres capacitats, què fem sinó dibuixar un altre model amb menys dependències, o a la fi desistir de construir? Molt més doncs, en aquesta gran tasca, que és l'ha d'aterrar un regne i construir-ne un altre, hem de veure la situació de l'emplaçament i el model, partir d'uns fonaments segurs, preguntar els experts, saber els nostres recursos, si són prou per emprendre una tasca així, de sospesar-ho amb el contrari; o dit d'altra manera, ens hem de fortificar sobre el paper i amb xifres, fent servir noms d'homes en lloc d'homes. Tal com el que dibuixa el model d'una casa que està més enllà de la seva capacitat de construir-la, que a la meitat de construir-la, l'abandona a mig fer i deixa la part que ha aixecat amb gran esforç com un pobre nu a la mercè dels plors dels núvols, deixada a la tirania de l'hivern.

I iii

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Let us on,
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited:
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many, with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And being now trimm'd in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
That thou provokest thyself to cast him up.
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard;
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in
these times?
They that, when Richard lived, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head
When through proud London he came sighing on
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again,
And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accursed!
Past and to come seems best; things present worst.

MOWBRAY

Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?

HASTINGS

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

Sublevem-nos i proclamem el motiu de la nostra revolta. La nació està farta de la seva pròpia elecció; l'ànsia que en sentia l'ha excedit, una cambra insegura i poc sòlida és la que es construeix sobre el cor de la plebs. N'hi havia molts, que aplaudien amb soroll atronant el cel i beneint Bolingbroke, abans que fos el que volies que fos! I ara que estàs sadollada dels teus propis desigs, tu engolidora bestial, n'estràs farta, que voldries vomitar-ho. Així, gos pollós, vas fer fora del teu si el rei Ricard, i ara voldries tornar a menjar el mort que has vomitat i bordes per trobar-lo. Quina confiança es pot tenir en aquests temps? [...] el passat i l'esdevenidor semblen millors, les coses d'ara pitjors.

[...]

H - Som súbdits del temps, i el temps ens mana de marxar.

Les preocupacions del rei, la tranquilitat dels súbdits

III i

KING HENRY IV

Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
And well consider of them; make good speed.

Exit Page

How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch
A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them
With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

[...]

Aneu ...

!Quants dels meus súbdits més pobres no estan dormint ara! Oh son, son gentil, nurse suau de la natura, com és que t'he espantat i ja no vens a tancar les meves parpelles i deixar enfonsar-se els meus sentits en l'oblit! Com és que en comptes d'això, son, jeus a cabanes plenes de fum sobre somiers incòmodes, al so de no pas altra cant que el d'una mosca, i en canvi no entres a les cambres perfumades dels grans, sota cars damassos i acotxat per una dolça melodia? Oh déu ximple, perquè jeus amb el vil en llits infectes i deixes el llit reial com a caseta de centinella o un campanar públic d'alarma? Pots tancar els ulls del grumet del de la cofa, i bressolar el seu cervell amb el moviment de l'ona brutal i la visita dels vents, que quan prenen les crests d'onades per dalt els arrissa els caps monstruosos i els penja cap als núvols que passen fent tan de soroll que desvetllarien la mort mateixa! Com pots, arbitrari son, donar repòs al grumet mullat en una hora tan difícil, i en més calmada i silenciosa de les nits, al rei que ho té tot li refuses el favor? Humils feliços, jeieu, intranquil resta el cap que du la corona.

KING HENRY IV

O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.

Oh Déu! qui pugués llegir el llibre del destí i veure la revolució dels temps fer que s'anivellin les muntanyes i el continent, cansat de la seva sòlida fermesa, dissoldre's e el mar! i altres vegades, veure com la cintura de platges de l'oceà es fa massa ample per la cintura de neptú. Com les sorts es burlen i canvien la copa del canvi amb licors diversos! Oh si això es pugués veure, el més feliç dels joves, veient a través de quin progrés, quins perills deixa enrera, que travessa per arribar, voldria tancar el llibre, asseure's i morir.

Determinisme en la vida dels homes

III i

WARWICK

There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceased;
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the necessary form of this
King Richard might create a perfect guess
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

Hi ha una història en la vida de tots els homes, que representa la natura dels temps traspassats; la qual observant-la fa que un home pugui profetitzar, acostant-s'hi prou, les principals possibilitats de les coses que estan per venir, que tenen les seves llavors i febles inicis enterrades. Aquestes coses el temps les cultiva i fa creixer; i d'aquesta manera necessària el rei Ricard hauria pogut endevinar perfectament que el gran Northumbeland, després deslleial faria d'aquesta llavor créixer una més gran falsedat encara que trobaria sinó on arrelar sinó en vós.

El trascendent i l'actual

III ii

SHADOW

Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death,
as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall
die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

És cert, i tant, segur, ben segur. La mort, tal com diuen els salms és segura per a tots, tots han de morir. A quan anava una parella de bous a la fira de Stamford?

Beneficis del vi

IV iii

FALSTAFF

I would you had but the wit: 'twere better than
your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-
blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make
him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine.
There's never none of these demure boys come to any
proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood,
and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a
kind of male green-sickness; and then when they
marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools
and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for
inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold

No voldria que tinguéssiu altra cosa que esperit, això fóra millor que el vostre ducat. De bona fe, aquest mateix jove de sang sòbria no m'estima, tampoc un home el podria fer riure; però això no és cap meravella, no beu gens de vi. No hi ha cap d'aquests nois moderats que arribin mai a res, perquè de tant poc beure es refreda la seva sang i de tant fer àpats de peix, cauen una mena de malatia verda masculina; i quan es casen, no tenen sinó noies. En general són estúpids i covards; i alguns de nosaltres ho seríem també si no fos per la imflamació. Un bon vi ranci té dos efectes: primer em puja fins al cervell; allà m'hi asseca tots els vapors ximples, avorrits i pudents vapors que l'envolten, el fa receptiu, ràpid, inventiu, ple de formes fermes i plaents les quals, lliurades a la seva veu, la llengua d'on neix, esdevé d'un esperit excel·lent. La segona propiestat del vostre excel·lent xerès és l'escalfament de la sang la qual, abans estava freda i calmosa i dixava el fetge blanc i pàl·lid, la qual cosa es signe de pussilànim i covard ; però el vi ranci l'escalfa i la fa córrer del centre a les parts extremes. Il·lumina el rostre qye com un far dóna l'alerta a la resta d'aquest petit regne que és l'home, a les armes; i aleshores tots els vilatans i els petits esperits de terra endins s'apleguen al voltant del seu capità, el cor, que, potent i ufanós del ser exèrcit fa qualsevol acció ardita, i aquest valor ve del vi ranci. Així que la destresa en les armes no és res sense el vi ranci, perquè és ell qui les posa en acció. D'aquí que el príncep Henty sigui valent ja que per la sang freda que va heretar de son pare, la tenia com una terra erma, fluixa i estèril, però amb la feina del bon beure i pel bon adob del fèrtil xerès s'ha tornat fèrtil i conreada. De manera que ha arribat a ser molt ardorós i valent. Si tingués mil fills, el primer principi humà que els ensenyaria seria d'abjurar de tota beguda insípida i dedicar-se al vi ranci.

operation in it. It ascends me into the brain;
dries me there all the foolish and dull and curdy
vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive,
quick, forgetive, full of nimble fiery and
delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the
voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes
excellent wit. The second property of your
excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood;
which, before cold and settled, left the liver
white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity
and cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makes
it course from the inwards to the parts extreme:
it illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives
warning to all the rest of this little kingdom,
man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and
inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain,
the heart, who, great and puffed up with this
retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour
comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is
nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and
learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till
sack commences it and sets it in act and use.
Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for
the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his
father, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land,
manured, husbanded and tilled with excellent
endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile
sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If
I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I
would teach them should be, to forswear thin
potations and to addict themselves to sack.

El terra més fèrtil és el que té més males herbes

IV iv

KING HENRY IV

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them: therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death:
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
In forms imaginary the unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.

Pensaments assassins

IV iv
[El rei recrimina a Henry que s'ha emprovat la corona]

Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart

Has amagat mil dagues en els teus pensaments, que has esmolat en el teu cor de pedra

[...]

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more;
England shall double gild his treble guilt,
England shall give him office, honour, might;
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.

Ara, països veïns, esbandiu la vostra escòria: ¿teniu un rufià que jurarà, beurà, ballarà, passa les nits en orgia, roba assassina, i comet els pecats més vells de la manera més nova? Estigueu tranquuils, ja no us causarà més problemes. Anglaterra daurarà la seva triple infàmia. Anglaterra li donarà feina, honor, poder, doncs el cinquè Harry llevarà el morrió a la prohibició de la llicència reprimida i el gos salvatge podrà clavar els seus ullals en la carn de tot innocent. Oh pobre regne meu, malalt pels cops de la guerra civil! Tota la meva cura no ha pogut retenir les revoltes. Què faràs quan la revolta sigui qui t'hagi de cuidar? Tornaràs al desert salvatge altra vegada, poblat per llops, els teus antics habitants.

Ayma, maig 2004

Ja rei, Henry V vol recuperar les terres franceses, Harfleur, la nació està unida, amb capitans galesos, irlandesos, escocesos i anglesos, i la trepa de barruts i covards de Bardolf, Nym i Pistol. Henry es barreja amb els soldats d'incògnit i es baralla amb un d'ells; abans de la batalla d'Azincourt. Al final guanyaran però faran també la pau amb França proposant matrimoni a la princesa Caterina.

Crida a la imaginació del corus

I pròleg

Chorus

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

(Qui tingués una musa de foc per pujar al més brillant cel de la invenció, un regne per escenari, prínceps per actuar i reis com a espectadors de l'escena sublim!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?

Aleshores el belicós Harry com a si mateix, assumiria la figura de Mart, i als seus talons, enganxats com a gossos, la fam, l'espasa i el foc a punt de ser usats. Però perdoneu-me, nobles espectadors, que aquests esperits simples i sense educar s'hagin atrevit a dur damunt d'aquestes pobres fustes un objectiu tan gran. Aquest galliner, pot contenir els vastos camps de França? o podem fer entrar en aquesta O de fusta les peülles que van aterrir l'aire a Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

Perdoneu! ja que una figura reduida us ha de representar un milió en un lloc tan petit, deixeu-me que fem de xifres d'aquest gran fet pel treball de la força de la vostra imaginació.

Suposeu que en aquest recinte de muralles hi ha dues monarquies poderoses, [...] Ompliu les nostres imperfeccions amb els vostres pensaments; obteniu mil parts d'un home i feu una potència imaginària; penseu quan parlem de cavalls, de manera que els veieu, petjant orgullosos les seves peülles rebent la terra, perquè són les vostres imaginacions les que han de vestir avui els reis, transportar-los aquí i allà, saltar per damunt dels temps, convertint l'acomplir de molts anys en el pas d'una hora: ...

El govern com les abelles

I 2

CANTERBURY

Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts;
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor;
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold,
The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,
That many things, having full reference
To one consent, may work contrariously:
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Come to one mark; as many ways meet in one town;
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea;
As many lines close in the dial's centre;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot.
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.

La burla de les pilotes de tennis

I 2

Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.

KING HENRY V

What treasure, uncle?

EXETER

Tennis-balls, my liege.

KING HENRY V

We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
His present and your pains we thank you for:
When we have march'd our rackets to these balls,
We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With chaces. And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.

Crida a la imaginació

II 3

Chorus

Així amb ales imaginades, la nostra escena vola i es mou amb una celeritat no inferior a la del pensament. Suposeu que heu vist el rei, acompanyat de les seves forces, embarcar amb les seves reialeses al moll de Hampton i a la seva brva flota, amb ensenyes de seda ventant el jove Febus: Jugueu amb les vostres fantasies, i mireu com el grumet s'enfila a les jàrcies de cànem, escolteu el xiulet agut que imposa ordre als sons confusos; contempleu les veles inflades pel vent invisible que empeny els enormes vaixells a través de les ones esvalotades. Oh! mireu de pensar que esteu a la riba i observeu una ciutat ballant damunt les ones inconstants, ja que així es veu aquesta majestuosa flota camí de Harfleur.

 Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
Play with your fancies, and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think
You stand upon the ravage and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,
Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;
Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,

Seguiu-la, seguiu-la, enganxeu les vostres ments al timó d'aquesta armada i deixeu Anglaterra, silenciosa com la mort a mitjanit, guardada amb vells senyors, nens i ancianes, que ja han passat o no han arribat encara l'edat de la saba i de la potència; perquè qui és que, amb la barba enriquida per un pèl que surt que no haurà seguit aquesta tria de cavallers a França? Feu treballar, feu treballar els vostres pensaments i allà hi veureu un setge, els canons damunt les seves bases amb les boques fatals cap a les muralles de Harfleur ...

El rei i els mortals normals

IV 1

KING HENRY V

No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I
speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I
am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me: the
element shows to him as it doth to me; all his
senses have but human conditions: his ceremonies
laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and
though his affections are higher mounted than ours,
yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like
wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we
do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish
as ours are: yet, in reason, no man should possess
him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing
it, should dishearten his army.

No, no era convenient que ho hagués fet. Perquè, encara us ho diré, penso que el rei no és sinó un home, com jo: i la violeta li fa la mateixa olor a ell que la que em fa a mi; tots els seus sentits no tenen sinó una condició humana: un cop es deixen les cerimònies, en la seva nuesa no sembla sinó un home; i tot i que els seus sentiments hagin pujat més amunt que els nostres, quan baixen, baixen amb les mateixes ales. Per això, quan veu motiu per tenir por, igual que nosaltres, té por i les seves pors, sense cap dubte, són de la mateixa mena que les nostres. Però, en bona lògica, cap home hauria de tenir-hi ca mena d'inquietud, i menys ell, si mostrant-ho, hagués de descoratjar el seu exèrcit.

[...]

 Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,
Our children and our sins lay on the king!
We must bear all. O hard condition,
Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!
And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?

Sobre el rei, que les nostres vides, les nostres ànimes, els nostres deutes, les nostres amoroses esposes, els nostres fills i els nostres pecats caiguin sobre el rei! Ell ho haurà de suportar tot. Oh dura condició, germana bessona de la grandesa, la d'estar subjecte a l'alè de cada ximple, els sentits del qual no van més enllà delsseus propis afers! I que la infinita pau del cor, que tenen els humils els reis en manquin! I que tenen els reis que no tinguin els particulars que no sigui la cerimònia, la cerimònia general? I què ets tu ídol del cerimonial? Quina mena de Déu ets, que pateixes més de les preocupacions mortals del que ho fan els teus adoradors? Quines són les teves rendes? quins són els teus profits?

Gore

IV 7

Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,
To view the field in safety and dispose
Of their dead bodies!

els nobles jeuen ofegats i anegats en sang mercenària; i així els nostres morts vulgars mullen els seus membres plebeus en sang de prínceps, els seus cavalls ferits s'agiten enfonsats en la sang (gore) fins al piti amb ràbia salvatge renillen i petgen les seves ferradures als seus amos morts matant-los per segona vegada.

El taller de la ment, In the quick forge and working-house of thought,

V pròleg

Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them: and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep mouth'd sea,
Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal and ostent
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!

Ara poseu, en la ràpida forja i taller del pensament, com Londres vessa en onades els seus ciutadans
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in:
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him! much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of England's stay at home;
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them; and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanced,
Till Harry's back-return again to France:
There must we bring him; and myself have play'd
The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.
Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance,
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

Allà és on el transportarem i jo he representat l'interim recordant-vos aquest passat. Perdoneu-me doncs el resum i feu anar els vostres ulls seguint els vostres pensaments, altra vegada a França.

Ayma, juliol 2004

La trama principal té dos enamorats, Claudio i Hero contra els quals conspira Don Juan, fent creure a Claudio que Hero no és verge. Aquest la rebutja el dia del casament i fins que els vigilants ximples no revelen què ha passat. La segona trama, més interessant, és la de Benedicte i Beatriu que s'estan punxant amb frases enginyoses fins que els seus amics fan creure a cadascun que l'altre n'està enamorat però no ho confessarà per orgull. El comentarista diu que té punts atractius però que a l'argument li manca profunditat.

Desdeny

I, 1

Benedick: nobody marks you.

BENEDICK

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?

BEATRICE

Is it possible disdain should die while she hath
such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come
in her presence.

BENEDICK

Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I
am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I
would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard
heart; for, truly, I love none.

Els homes, i les danses

II, 1

LEONATO

Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

BEATRICE

Not till God make men of some other metal than
earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be
overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make
an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren;
and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

haver de retre comptes a un terròs de fang petulant ... els fills d'Adam són els meus germans i, en veritat, seria un pecat d'aparellar-me duns de la meva parentela.

LEONATO

Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince
do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

BEATRICE

The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be
not wooed in good time: if the prince be too
important, tell him there is measure in every thing
and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero:
wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig,
a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot
and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as
fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a
measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes
repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the
cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

La falta estarà en la música, cosina, si no sou festejada al temps correcte: si el príncep és massa important, digueu-li que hi ha una mesura de compàs en cada cosa i balleu així la resposta. Ja que, estimada Hero, enamorar-se, casar-se i penedir-se'n són, una giga escoesa, una mesura [minuet] i una sarabanda [cinque pace]: el primer és ardent i ràpid, com la giga escocesa, no almenys tan fantàstic; el casament, de maneres més modestes, com elminuet, ple de dignitat i maduresa; i després ve el penediment i, amb les seves males cames, cau en la sarabanda [cinque pace] més i més ràpid fins que s'enfonsa en la tomba.

II, 3

Exit Boy

I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much
another man is a fool when he dedicates his
behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at
such shallow follies in others, become the argument
of his own scorn by failing in love: and such a man
is Claudio. I have known when there was no music
with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he
rather hear the tabour and the pipe: I have known
when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a
good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the fashion of a new doublet [un brodat?]. He was wont to
speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man
and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his
words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many
strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with
these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not
be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but
I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster
of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman
is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am
well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all
graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in
my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise,
or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her;
fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not
near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good
discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall
be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and
Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour.

III, 3

DOGBERRY

If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue
of your office, to be no true man; and, for such
kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honesty.

Watchman

If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay
hands on him?

DOGBERRY

Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they
that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable
way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him
show himself what he is and steal out of your company.

VERGES

You have been always called a merciful man, partner.

DOGBERRY

Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more
a man who hath any honesty in him.

VERGES

If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call
to the nurse and bid her still it.

Watchman

How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?

DOGBERRY

Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake
her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her
lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.

IV, 1

So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.

V, 1

ANTONIO

Therein do men from children nothing differ.

LEONATO

I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods
And made a push at chance and sufferance.

Mentiders

V, 1

DOGBERRY

Marry, sir, they have committed false report;
moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily,
they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have
belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust
things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

Cara de febrer

V, 4

PEDRO

Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

Solius, agost 2004

Una de les comèdies més perfectes, amb la següent, i les dues juguen amb l'ambiguitat de la dona disfressada d'home. Rosalina es veu desterrada al bosc -que representa el món idílic lluny de la cort-, on ja era desterrat el seu pare, el duc legítim, per part del seu germà Frederic.Orlando també es desterrat després d'enfrontar-se al lluitador del Duc a instàncies del seu germà que conspira per desheretar-lo. Rosalina fuig al bosc disfressada de noi, "Ganimedes" acompanyada de Cèlia. Es troba amb Orlando sospirant per Rosalina i ella, en el paper de xicot, li diu que simuli que el festeja. Un pastor festeja sense èxit a una pastora, Febe, que no li fa cas i que en canvi s'enamora de Ganimedes.El bufó Touchstone sedueix Audrey, i el germà d'Orlando, que al final també ha estat desterrat acabarà amb Cèlia, en un final feliç on cadascu obté la seva parella (Ganimedes diu a Febe que podrà triar-lo, però que si el rebutja s'haurà de casar amb el pastor Silvio).

Els ximples diuen la veritat

I 2

TOUCHSTONE

The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what
wise men do foolishly.

II 1

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
I would not change it.

Dolços són els sabors de l'adversitat que, com el gripau, lleig i verinós, guarda un joiell al seu cap; així, la nostra vida avui, sense la freqüentació de les multituds, troba oradors en els arbres, llibres en els rierols que corren, sermons a les pedres i el bé en tot. No ho canviaria per res.

Temps de trepas! None will sweat but for promotion

II 3

O good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion,
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee.

Contemplació d'una hora

II 7

'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,

madurem i madurem
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;

ens podrim, i així s'acaba el conte
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,

els meus pulmons van començar a cantar com un gall
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

II 7

DUKE SENIOR

Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

JAQUES

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

El món sencer és un teatre:
i tots els homes i dones uns simples actors;
tenen les seves sortides i les seves entrades
un home al seu temps representa moltes parts,
els actes tene set edats. Primer l'infant,
barbotejant i babejant als braços de la dida.
Després el ploricó que va a l'escola, amb la seva motxilla,
i la seva cara brillant al matí que, arrossegant-se com un cargol
va cap a l'escola. Després l'amant
sospirant com un forn, amb una balada de laments
feta per a les celles de la seva mestressa. Desprésel soldat,
ple de juraments estranys i barbut com un lleopard,
gelós en l'honor, prompte i ràpid a la baralle,
cercant la bombolla de la reputació
fins i tot en la boca dels canons. I després el jutge,
amb el seu ventre rodó, farcit de capó,
amb ulls severs i una barba formal
ple de dites sàvies i de llocs comuns;
així interpreta la seva part. L'edat sisena ens el
torna en el prim i enganyat Pantaló,
amb ulleres sobre el nas i la bossa al costat,
les calces de la seva joventut, ben guardades, són un món massa gran
per a les seves galtes enfonsades; i la seva grossa veu d'home
es torna d'un soprano infantil, amb un so com de flautes i xiulets.
L'última escena, que acaba aquest estranya història plena de fets,
és la segona infantesa i el mer oblit,
sense dents, sense ulls, sense gust, sense res.

III 2

TOUCHSTONE

Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good
life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life,
it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I
like it very well; but in respect that it is
private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it
is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in
respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As
is it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well;
but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much
against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

CORIN

No more but that I know the more one sickens the
worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money,
means and content is without three good friends;
that the property of rain is to wet and fire to
burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a
great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that
he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may
complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

Els àtoms

III 2

CELIA

It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the
propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my
finding him, and relish it with good observance.
I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn.

com un gla per terra

Les dones

III 2

ROSALIND

Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must
speak. Sweet, say on.

La mesura del temps

III 2

ROSALIND

I pray you, what is't o'clock?

ORLANDO

You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock
in the forest.

ROSALIND

Then there is no true lover in the forest; else
sighing every minute and groaning every hour would
detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.

ORLANDO

And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that
been as proper?

ROSALIND

By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with
divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles
withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops
withal and who he stands still withal.

pas, trot i galop, parat

ORLANDO

I prithee, who doth he trot withal?

ROSALIND

Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the
contract of her marriage and the day it is
solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight,
Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of
seven year.

ORLANDO

Who ambles Time withal?

ROSALIND

With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that
hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because
he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because
he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean
and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden
of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal.

Una capellà que no sap llatí, o un home ric que no tégota, perquè l'un dorm bé ja que no pot estudiar, i l'altre viu alegrement perquè no té dolor., l'un està sense el pes d'un aprenentatge feixuc i inútil, i l'altre sense el fardell d'una penúria pesada i tediosa.

ORLANDO

Who doth he gallop withal?

ROSALIND

With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as
softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.

Un lladre cap a la forca, ja que per molt lentament que vagin els peus sempre pensarà que hi arriba massa d'hora.

ORLANDO

Who stays it still withal?

ROSALIND

With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between
term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves.

Advocats de vacances, com que dormen entre temprada i temporada, no perceben com avança el temps.

Mirades que fereixen?

III 5

PHEBE

I would not be thy executioner:
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers!
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

SILVIUS

O dear Phebe,
If ever,--as that ever may be near,--
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love's keen arrows make.

Malenconia

IV 1

JAQUES

I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is
emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical,
nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the
soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's,
which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor
the lover's, which is all these: but it is a
melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,
extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry's
contemplation of my travels, in which my often
rumination wraps me m a most humorous sadness.

ROSALIND

A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to
be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see
other men's; then, to have seen much and to have
nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

JAQUES

Yes, I have gained my experience.

ROSALIND

And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have
a fool to make me merry than experience to make me
sad; and to travel for it too!

L'edat del món

IV 1

ROSALIND

No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is
almost six thousand years old, and in all this time
there was not any man died in his own person,
videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains
dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he
could to die before, and he is one of the patterns
of love.

Amor a primera vista!

V 2

ROSALIND

O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis true: there was
never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams
and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and
overcame:' for your brother and my sister no sooner
met but they looked, no sooner looked but they
loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner
sighed but they asked one another the reason, no
sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy;
and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs
to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or
else be incontinent before marriage: they are in
the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs
cannot part them.

Cançó de Thomas Morley

V 3

SONG.
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding:
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino
These pretty country folks would lie,
In spring time, & c.
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower
In spring time, & c.
And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino;
For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, & c.

I, 3

MARIA

Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
he's a very fool and a prodigal.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.

MARIA

He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

I, 3

SIR TOBY BELCH

Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

I perquè s'amaguen aquestes coses? perquè tenir aquests dons rera una cortina? agafant pols com el retrat de M. Mall? Per què no as a l'església amb la gallarda i tornes a casa en una corranta? El meu caminar hauria de ser ben bé una giga, i no hauria de pixar sinó és en sink-a-pace. Què vols dir? És aquest un món per a amagar les virtuts? Penso,per l'excel·lent constitució de la teva cama que va ser formada sota l'estel d'una gallarda.

I, 5

OLIVIA
Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
besides, you grow dishonest.

Clown

Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

O.- Aneu, sou un ximple ben eixut, vull saber més a vós, a més, us aneu tornant desvergonyit.

P.- Dues faltes, madona, que la beguda i el bon consell podran esmenar: si doneu de beure al ximple eixut, ja no serà més eixut, demaneu-li al desvergonyit que s'esmeni; si s'esmena ja no serà desvergonyit, i si no pot, ja se n'encarregarà el botxí. Tot el que és esmenat no és un sargit pedaç: la virtut que falla no és sinó un pedaç de pecat, i el pecat que s'esmena és apedaçat amb virtut. Si aquest simple sil·logisme val, doncs així sia; i sinó, què hi farem? Així com no hi ha banyut de debó sinó calamitat, així la bellesa és una flor. La senyora ha dit fora la bogeria; per això dic, que se l'emportin a ella.

El retrat i la realitat

I, 5

VIOLA

Good madam, let me see your face.

OLIVIA
Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
with my face? You are now out of your text: but
we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
not well done?

Teniu l'encàrrec del meu senyor de negociar amb el meu rostre? Ara us esteu sortint del text, però retirarem la cortina i us mostrarem el quadre. Mireu, senyor, representa el que era abans, no està ben fet?

Unveiling

VIOLA

Excellently done, if God did all.

OLIVIA

'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.

És en bon estat senyor, aguantarà el vent i el temps.

VIOLA

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.

Una bellesa ben combinada, el seu vermell i blanc són de la mateixa dolça i astuta ma de la natura: Senyora, ja sereu la més cruel de les dones i us emporteu a la tomba aquestes gràcies abans que el món en tingui còpia.

OLIVIA

 O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
you sent hither to praise me?

Oh senyor, no tingueu un cor tan dur; faré diverses llistes de la meva bellesa: serà inventariada, i cada part i estri constarà al meu testament; així, item, dos llavis, del vermell que sigui; item, dos ulls grisos, amb parpelles incloses; item, un coll, una barbeta, i així la resta. Heu estat enviat aquí per lloar-me?

Quatre elements

II, 3

CENE III. OLIVIA's house.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW

SIR TOBY BELCH

Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
surgere,' thou know'st,--

SIR ANDREW

Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
late is to be up late.

SIR TOBY BELCH

A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the
four elements?

SIR ANDREW

Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
of eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY BELCH

Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

Viola, disfressada d'home, enamorada del duc

II, 4

DUKE ORSINO

What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA

Of your complexion.

DUKE ORSINO

She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

VIOLA

About your years, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO

Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

VIOLA

I think it well, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO

Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA

And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

[...]

DUKE ORSINO

And what's her history?

VIOLA

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Una història en blanc, senyor. Mai ha dit el seu amo sinó que ha deixat que [la tristor] s'emporti el damasc de la seva galta com el cuc a la poncella: s'ha enfonsat en els seus pensaments i amb una melanconia verda i groga seu com la paciència en un momument, somrient a la pena. No era això amor de debó? Nosaltres els homes diem més i jurem més: però realment les nostres paraules són més que la nostre voluntat; diem molt en els nostres juraments però poc en el nostre amor.

II, 5

escena de Malvolia i la carta falsa

Mots enganyosos

III, 1

VIOLA

Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
thy tabour?

Clown

No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA

Art thou a churchman?

Clown

No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
the church.

VIOLA

So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.

Clown

You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward!

Ben dit senyor, i tan jove com sou! Una frase no és sinó un guant de cabra per a un enginy esmolat: ben aviat es pot capgirar a l'inrevés!

VIOLA

Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
words may quickly make them wanton.

I tant que és veritat, els que juguen amb gràcia amb les paraules les poden corrompre fàcilment.

Clown

I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Voldria, doncs, que la meva germana no tingués nom, senyor

VIOLA

Why, man?

Clown

Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words
are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.

Doncs, senyor, perquè el seu nom és una paraula, i jugar amb aquest mot podria corrompre la meva germana. Però és ben cert que les paraules són unes desvergonyides des que els lligams les han desgraciat.

VIOLA

Thy reason, man?

Clown

Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
words are grown so false, I am loath to prove
reason with them.

De debó, que no en puc dir cap sense paraules; i ja que les paraules s'han revelat tan falses, em repugna de raonar amb elles.

VIOLA

I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.

Clown

Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

El ridícul de Malvolio

III, 2

Maria: If you desire the spleen and will laugh yourselves into sitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

Sir Toby: And cross-gartered?

Maria:Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i'the church- I have dogged him like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she so, he'll smile and take't for great favour.

Turisme al segle XVII

III, 3

SEBASTIAN

My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

ANTONIO

To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.

SEBASTIAN

I am not weary, and 'tis long to night:
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.

La lletgesa moral

III, 4

ANTONIO

Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

 First Officer

What's that to us? The time goes by: away!

 ANTONIO

But O how vile an idol proves this god
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish but the mind;
None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind:
Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.

Oh quin ídol tan vil resulta ser aquest déu. Tu has, Sebastià, fet vergonya la teva bella fesomia. A la natura no hi ha altra lletjor que la de la ment; de ningú es pot dir que és deforme sinó del dolent: la virtut és bellesa, però el malvat ben paregut no són sinó baguls buits guarnits pel dimoni.

Nothing that is so is so.

IV, 1

Clown

Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor
I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come
speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario;
nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.

Els enemics em diran la veritat

V, 1

Clown

Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse
for my friends.

DUKE ORSINO

Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Clown

No, sir, the worse.

DUKE ORSINO

How can that be?

Clown

Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me;
now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by
my foes, sir I profit in the knowledge of myself,
and by my friends, I am abused: so that,
conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives
make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for
my friends and the better for my foes.

I doncs, senyor, em lloen i fan un ase de mi; ara, els meus enemics em diuen directament que sóc un ase: de manera que dels meus enemics, senyor, en trec el coneixement de mi mateix com a profit, i dels meus amics, en sóc abusat: així que, si les conclusions són com els petons, i si quatre negacions valen per dues afirmacions aleshores, tant pitjor pels meus amics i tant millor pels meus enemics.

DUKE ORSINO

Why, this is excellent.