Solius, novembre 2004

Estudi sobre forces en política, el tirà, apelar a l'interès general, la manipulació; la figura de l'estoic que sense interessos particulars s'implica en el decurs de la història.

Cèsar acaba de tornar triomfant a la República de Roma, i s'especula amb que es faci coronar rei. Per evitar aquest excés de poder, el manipulador Cassius convenç l'estoic Brutus (hi ha alguna cosa de Hamlet en ell) per conspirar i assassinar-lo.

Un acte tercer que fa estremir, amb la sang de l'assassinat i després de la justificació de Brutus, el discurs d'Antoni que torna a fer girar el favor del poble.

Paral·lelismes amb el perillós Londres de la dècada dels '90, on alguns aristòcrates també estaven disposats a conspirar per la llibertat [contra la reina Elisabet]

A l'acte quart, els caràcters demagog d'Antoni i corrupte de Cassius es posen de manifest, contraposats a l'honradesa de brutus. És genial el contrapunt que ofereix l'escena de la nit on després de la tendresa entre l'amo i el servent jove que fa música, apareix l'espectre de Cèsar.

Kermode esmenta l'escena a Romeo de Pere i els músics, i aquí de Portia, com d'una lightning scene, que il·lumina un aspecte de l'obra [per mi és . P. 95. I think of it as a study in the first motion and the ultimate acting of a dreadful thing, worthy to be so called because of its millennial repercussions.

Idus de març

I, 2

Soothsayer

Beware the ides of March.

El mirall per veure's un mateix

I, 2

CASSIUS

 Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;
By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

BRUTUS

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection, by some other things.

CASSIUS

 'Tis just:
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Exacte, i és de lamentar, Brutus, que no tingueu miralls tals que retornessin la vostra oculta vàlua al vostre ull, que així puguéssiu veure la vostra ombra. He escoltat molts dels més respectats de Roma, llevat de l'immortal Cèsar, parlant de B i remugant sota el jou d'aquesta era, voldrien que Brutus tingués els seus ulls.

BRUTUS

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

A quins perills em voleu dur, Cassius, que voldríeu que busqués en mi mateix allò que no hi és?

CASSIUS

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
And after scandal them, or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Així, bon Brutus, preparat a escoltar: i com que no et pots veure a tu mateix si no és per reflexió, jo, el teu mirall modestament et descobriré a tu mateix allò de tu que encara no coneixes. I no estiguis gelós de mi, gentil Brutus: si jo fos un chistós vulgar, o fés lloés alprimer que arriba; si sabessis que primer empaito i abraço uns homes, i després els blasmés ...

Els homes grassos són de més confiança

I, 2

CAESAR

Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

ANTONY

 Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman and well given.

CAESAR

Would he were fatter! But I fear him not:
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit
That could be moved to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

El debat intern, el bé general

II, 1

BRUTUS

It must be by his death: and for my part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crown'd:
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;--
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason.

Ha de ser amb la seva mort: i per la meva part, no sé de cap causa personal per oposar-m'hi, si no és pel bé general. Seria coronat i com això canviaria la seva natura, aquesta és la qüestió. És el dia brillant el que fa sortir el serpent, i això ens avisa de caminar amb cautela. Coronar-lo? això, i després, suposo, li posem un agulló amb el que ens podrà fer mal. L'abús de la grandesa ve quan el remordiment se separa del poder. I per dir la veritat de Cèsar, no he vist mai que les seves afeccions dominessin més que la seva raó.

[...]

Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The Genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Des que Cassius em va prevenir contra Cèsar que no he dormit. Entre l'execució d'una fet horrible i el seu primer impuls, tot l'interval és com un fantasma, o un malson odiós: el Geni i els instruments mortals tenen consell, aleshores; i l'estat de l'home, semblant al d'un petit regne, pateix com si hi hagués una insurrecció.

Mals auguris

II, 2

CALPURNIA

Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead;
Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,
And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
O Caesar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Una lleona ha parit al mig del carrer; i les tombes han badat la boca i expulsat els seus difunts; guerrers ferotges enfurismats lluitaven damunt dels núvols, en fileres i esquadrons en formació de guerra, fent ploure sang sobre el Capitoli; el soroll de la batalla atronava els aires i s'escoltava renillar els cavalls, i la ranera dels homes en morir, i els esperits xisclaven i gemegaven pels carrers.

CAESAR

 What can be avoided
Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions
Are to the world in general as to Caesar.

CALPURNIA

When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

CAESAR

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

[...]

CAESAR

The cause is in my will: I will not come;
That is enough to satisfy the senate.
But for your private satisfaction,
Because I love you, I will let you know:
Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
She dreamt to-night she saw my statua,
Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans
Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it:
And these does she apply for warnings, and portents,
And evils imminent; and on her knee
Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day.

Cèsar, ferm com l'estrella polar

III, 1

CAESAR

I could be well moved, if I were as you:
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little show it, even in this;
That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.

Assessinat de Cèsar

III, 1

CAESAR

Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

CASCA

Speak, hands for me!

CASCA first, then the other Conspirators and BRUTUS stab CAESAR

CAESAR

Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

Dies

[...]

CASSIUS

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

BRUTUS

Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

CASSIUS

Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

BRUTUS

How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's basis lies along
No worthier than the dust!

[...]

ANTONY

I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand:
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not last in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all,--alas, what shall I say?
My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.
That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true:
If then thy spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,
To see thy thy Anthony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.

[...]

ANTONY

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Ai de les mans que van vessar aquesta sang preciosa! Sobre les teves ferides profetitzo,que com boques mudes obren els seus llavis vermells i em demanen la veu i pronuncia de la meva llengua, caurà una maledicció sobre els ossos de l'home, fúria domèstica i ferotge contenda civil s'estendrà a totes les parts d'Itàlia; la sang i la destrucció seran tan habituals, i els objetes horribles tan familiars que les mares no faran sinó somriure quan davant seu els seus infants siguin esquarterats per les urpes de la guerra: tota pietat e

Discurs de Brutus

III, 2

Third Citizen

The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

BRUTUS

Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my
cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me
for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that
you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and
awake your senses, that you may the better judge.
If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar
was no less than his. If then that friend demand
why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer:
--Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and
die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live
all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;
as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I
slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his
fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his
ambition. Who is here so base that would be a
bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If
any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so
vile that will not love his country? If any, speak;
for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

All

None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS

Then none have I offended. I have done no more to
Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of
his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not
extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences
enforced, for which he suffered death.

Discurs d'Antoni

III, 2

ANTONY

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest--
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men--
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

Mateu-lo pels seus versos dolents

III, 3

Third Citizen

Your name, sir, truly.

CINNA THE POET

Truly, my name is Cinna.

First Citizen

Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator.

CINNA THE POET

I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.

Fourth Citizen

Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.

CINNA THE POET

I am not Cinna the conspirator.

Fourth Citizen

It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his
name out of his heart, and turn him going.

Third Citizen

Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands:
to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius'
house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!

Menyspreu pel servent fidel

IV, 1

OCTAVIUS

You may do your will;
But he's a tried and valiant soldier.

ANTONY

So is my horse, Octavius; and for that
I do appoint him store of provender:
It is a creature that I teach to fight,
To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit.
And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so;
He must be taught and train'd and bid go forth;
A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds
On abjects, orts and imitations,
Which, out of use and staled by other men,
Begin his fashion: do not talk of him,
But as a property.

És un individu estèril; un que s'alimenta de deixalles, engrunes i imitacions, que deixades d'usar i evacuades pels altres esdevenen la seva moda: no parlis d'ell sinó és com a propietat.

Indignació de Brutus

IV, 3

BRUTUS

Remember March, the ides of March remember:
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

[...]

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me:
For I can raise no money by vile means:
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection: I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
Dash him to pieces!

[...]

CASSIUS

You love me not.

BRUTUS

I do not like your faults.

CASSIUS

A friendly eye could never see such faults.

BRUTUS

A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.

CASSIUS

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world;
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Filosofia

IV, 3

BRUTUS

O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

CASSIUS

Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.

BRUTUS

No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.
Oh Cassius, massa penes m'afligeixen
Poc feu servir la vostra filosofia si cediu davant de mals accidentals.
Cap humà no endura millor el dolor. Portia és morta.

Saber la fi dels dies

V, 1

BRUTUS

 Why, then, lead on. O, that a man might know
The end of this day's business ere it come!
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known. Come, ho! away!

Mort de Brutus

V, 5

BRUTUS

Farewell, good Strato.

Runs on his sword

Caesar, now be still:
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

Dies

Antoni, sobre Brutus

V, 5

ANTONY

 This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators save only he
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world 'This was a man!'

London, november 2004

Cançons de Dowland: How should I your true love know, Bonny sweet Robin

I. L'espectre de Hamlet pare s'apareix als guardes i Horaci; Hamlet està indignat per les noves noces de la seva mare.

Kermode parla de Poem Unlimited (classificació d'obres segons Polonius), els canvis de registre, el domini de l'idioma que es fa transparent, el recurs de la duplicació o hendyais (ex. "casa i llar"), que contribueix a la sensació de retard que planteja l'obra. És "literature's greatest bazaar".

Frye a la introducció de la traducció catalana parla d'un triple esquema de venjança, la de Fortimbras respecte de Hamlet pare, la de Hamlet respecte de Claudi i la de Laertes respecte de Polonius. No és una revenja usual, aquesta és una tragèdia sense catarsi; no ens sentim alleujats per que morin els dolent, al final.

Apareixeria el tema de com jutgem les persones, si per les accions o pel caràcter; si pel que pensen o pel que fan.

La condició humana ... seria no poder-ho ser tot [i això ja apareixia al Sofista de Plató el "ser concret" és alhora "noser", ser Jordi és no ser dona, esportista, etc, viure és anar triant i anar eliminant possibilitats.

Frye arriba a dir que sense el conflicte entre consciència i acció que planteja Hamlet, potser el romanticisme no hauria existit [no tant, home].

Els crítics han fet referència a la figura de Hamlet com a consciència que sospesa conseqüències, altres com a dubte que acaba resultant en una incapacitat d'actuar. La composició que en va fer l'actor el mostrava com un personatge apassionat, enèrgic, a vegades content, a vegades enfadat ... La impressió que em va deixar a mi és que Hamlet és un depressiu amagargat, nihilista, no actúa per desgana tot i que ocasionalment tingui atacs de fúria. És un cabró amb Ofèlia, reacciona també de manera inacceptable després de matar Poloni, Hamlet va més enllà de la malenconia i frega la pertorbació mental, sent fàstic del món i segurament també d'ell mateix.

Goigs als funerals i laments a les noces

I, 2

Claudi

Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,--
With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole

Ho hem fet amb ulls alegres i alhora condolguts,
amb goig als funerals i laments a les noces,
sospesant igualment l'alegria el dol

Lament de Hamlet

I, 2
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

Ah, si aquest cos tan i tan sòlid es fongués
o es dissolgués convertint-se en rosada,
o bé que el pare etern no hagués fixat
la llei que prohibeix el suïcidi!
Oh Déu, oh Déu!
que gastats, avorrits, insípids i superflus
em són tots els assumptes d'aquest món!
Ah, quin fàstic, quin fàstic!
És un jardí de males herbes: creix
i dóna fruits, totalment posseït
pels elements vulgars de la natura.
Que s'hagi d'arribar fins a aquest punt!
Mort només de dos mesos (no, no fa tant, ni dos!),
un rei tan excel·lent, que era al costat d'aquest,
igual que Hiperió al costat d'un sàtir,
i s'estimava tant la meva mare,
que ni hauria permès que els vents del cel
li freguessin el rostre amb massa aspresa.

Les restes del funeral

I, 2

HAMLET

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father!--methinks I see my father.

És l'estalvi, l'estalvi, Horaci.
La carn que va sobrar dels funerals
va ser el plat fred servit al casament.
Tant de bo hagués trobat el meu pitjor enemic al cel,
abans d'haver viscut un dia així, Horaci!
El meu pare ... puc dir que encara el veig.

Violeta efímera

(Laertes advertint a Ofèlia)

I, 3

LAERTES

For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Pel que fa a Hamlet i els petits favors
que et concedeix, pren-t'ho com una rauxa,
com un caprici de la sang,
com una violeta al seu millor moment
primaveral, precoç i efímera,
solça i evanescent com el perfum
i el passatemps d'un sol instant.

(Qui no té esperança no té por)

I, 4

HAMLET

 Why, what should be the fear?
I do not set my life in a pin's fee;
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.

Per què? Quina por he de tenir?
La meva vida no m'importa gaire,
i a la meva ànima què li podria fer,
si és immortal, com ell mateix?

Alguna cosa es podreix a Dinamarca

I, 4

HORATIO

 Have after. To what issue will this come?

MARCELLUS

 Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO

 Heaven will direct it.

MARCELLUS

Nay, let's follow him.

Deixar empremta a la memòria, a la ment i a la llibreta

I, 5

HAMLET

O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark:

Writing

 So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.'
I have sworn 't.

Ah, vosaltres, soldats del cel! Oh terra!
Què més? Hi he d'afegir l'infern?
Ah, quin fàstic! Atura't, cor, atura't!
Vosaltres, músculs meus, no us afebliu,
i mantingueu-me fort. Que em recordi de tu?
Sí, pobre espectre,
mentre el record pugui tenir el seu lloc
en aquest món alienat [tem per les seves facultats?]
Que em recordi de tu?
Sí, de les pàgines de la memòria
n'esborraré tots els records més trivials,
els proverbis dels llibres,
les formes i petges del passat
que els meus gustos de jove hi van escriure;
en el llibre i volum del meu cervell,
només hi quedaran les teves ordres,
sense mesclar-se amb les matèries més vils.
Pel cel, que sí! Ah, dona pèrfida!
Ah, canalla damnat, canalla somrient!
El meu quadern! Cal que ho escrigui tot:
que es pot riure i somriure i ser un canalla.
Almenys sé que és possible a Dinamarca:

escrivint

Així, oncle, ja està! I ara, el meu lema:
"Adéu, adéu, recorda'm".Ho he jurat.

Més coses que en la teva filosofia

I, 5

HAMLET

And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Doncs dóna-li la benvinguda
com si fos estranger.
A la terra i al cel, Horaci, hi ha més coses
que les que pot imaginar el teu pensament

Amb un ham de mentida pesques un peix de debó

II, 1

LORD POLONIUS

 At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry;
He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman;
I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,
Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
There falling out at tennis:' or perchance,
'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
See you now;
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlasses and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out:
So by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?

Dient coses així. Redéu, això mateix.
Dirà per cas: jo el conec, aquest jove:
ahir el vaig veure, o potser abans d'ahir,
o l'altre, o l'altre, i amb aquest, o amb aquell,
'i tal com dèieu, sí, jugava a cartes,
el vaig veure borratxo en una festa,
barallant-se en el tennis', o potser:
entrava en una casa de barrets,
és a dir en un bordell, etcètera.
Ja ho veus, amb un esquer fet de mentida
pots pescar un peix de veritat.
És així com nosaltres prudents i intel·ligents,
donant voltes o amb passos desviats,
podem trobar indirectament la direcció.
Així, seguint els meus consells
procediràs amb el meu fill. M'enténs o no?

Rosencrantz i Guildenstern

II 2

KING CLAUDIUS

Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed son. Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

El dia és dia, la nit és nit

II 2

LORD POLONIUS

 This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief: your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
But let that go.

Això ha acabat bé.
Milord, senyora, si hagués d'exposar
el que haurien de ser la majestat i el deure,
per què el dia és dia i la nit és nit,
i el temps és temps, seria malgastar
nit, dia i temps. Com que la brevetat
és l'ànima del seny, seré molt breu.
El vostre noble fill és boig. I dic
només això, perquè cal estar boig
per definir la veritable bogeria.
Però deixem-ho estar.

Dinamarca una presó

II 2

HAMLET

Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
Let me question more in particular: what have you,
my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
that she sends you to prison hither?

GUILDENSTERN

Prison, my lord!

HAMLET

Denmark's a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ

Then is the world one.

HAMLET

A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.

ROSENCRANTZ

We think not so, my lord.

HAMLET

Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
it is a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ

Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
narrow for your mind.

HAMLET

O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
have bad dreams.

GUILDENSTERN

Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

HAMLET

A dream itself is but a shadow.

ROSENCRANTZ

Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Déu meu! jo podria viure dins la closca d'una nou i considerar-me rei de l'infinit, si no fos perquè tinc mals somnis.
Somnis que de fet, són ambició, perquè la mateixa substància de l'ambició no és res més que l'ombra d'un somni.
El somni, en si mateix, no és més que una ombra.
Cert, i jo crec que l'ambició és d'una qualitat tan aèria i tan lleugera, que no és més que l'ombra d'una ombra.

L'home, tan gran i alhora pols

II 2

HAMLET

 I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but
wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so.

I j o us diré per què, i així m'avançaré ales vostres revela­cions, i la reserva que deveu al rei i a la reina es man­tindrà intacta. Darrerament, no sé per què, he perdut l'alegria, i he deixat el costum de fer exercici, i això s'avé tan malament amb la meva disposició, que aquesta bella construcció, la terra, em sembla com un promontori estèril; aquest dosser tan excel•lent, que és l'aire, mireu, aquesta volta del firmament, aquest sostre majestuós, incrustat de foc d'or, no em sembla res més que una tèr­bola i pestilent amalgama de vapors. ''

Quina obra més admirable que és l'home! Que noble en la raó! Que infinit en capacitats! En forma i movi­ment, que exacte i admirable! En els actes, com s'as­sembla a un àngel! En comprensió, com s'assembla a un Déu! És la bellesa del món, el paradigma dels animals! I tot i així, per mi, què és aquesta quinta essència del fang? L'home no em fa feliç, ni la dona tampoc, tot i que; pel vostre somriure, sembla que vulgueu dir el contrari.

Una obra massa llarga

II 2

LORD POLONIUS

This is too long.

HAMLET

It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

El teatre, el resum del temps

II 2

HAMLET

'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
Good my lord, will you see the players well
bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
time: after your death you were better have a bad
epitaph than their ill report while you live.

Prou, ja em recitaràs més tard el fragment que falta. Bon senyor, us voleu encarregar d'acomodar els actors? Escolteu: mireu que els tractin bé, perquè són la síntesi i el resum de les cròniques del temps. Quan sigueu mort, us faria més servei un epitafi dolent que no pas la mala fama que ells us podrien penjar mentre viviu.

Hamlet, fastiguejat de no actuar

II 2

 HAMLET

Ay, so, God be wi' ye;

Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN

 Now I am alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all his visage wann'd,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
Ha!
'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
O, vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion!
Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
That guilty creatures sitting at a play
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this: the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

Exit

Ara estic sol.

Sóc un canalla i un esclau servil.

No és monstruós que aquest comediant, en la ficció, en un somni de passió, sotmeti l'esperit al seu imaginar fins a obtenir pal•lidesa en el rostre i llàgrimes als ulls, l'aspecte foll la veu trencada i totes les funcions del cos adequant-se a les formes del seu imaginar. I tot per res. Per Hècuba! Què és Hècuba per ell, o ell per Hècuba, que el faci plorar així? Què no faria si el punxessin l'estímul i el crit de la passió que jo sento? Ompliria de llàgrimes l'escena, esquerdaria les orelles de tothom amb discursos terribles, faria que el culpable es tornés foll, i pàl•lid l'innocent, deixaria confós el ximple, i desconcertaria les facultats de veure i escoltar. Jo, en canvi, un canalla indolent i peresós, un trist somiador, apàtic de la meva causa, no puc dir res, ni tan sols per un rei a qui s'ha fet una abjecta injustícia, tant a la seva vida com a les seves possessions. Sóc un covard? Qui em tracta de canalla i em fueteja el rostre? I qui m'estira el nas i em fa empassar mentides fins al fons dels pulmons; Qui m'ho fa, tot això? Ah, Crist, ho accepto perquè dec tenir un fetge de colom i em manca el fel per amargar la injúria, si no, faria temps que ja hauria engreixat els voltors del país amb les entranyes d'aquest malvat. Ah, lasciu sanguinari, despietat, cruel i traïdor malvat! Com puc ser tan estúpid? Això sí que està bé, que jo, que sóc el fill d'un pare assassinat, esperonat a la venjança pel cel i per l'infern, m'hagi de desfogar parlant, com una puta, i conformar-me maleint com una meuca, com una prostituta. Sí, quin fàstic! Vinga, cervell, he sentit dir que alguns culpables, asseguts al teatre i per la força de l'escena, han sentit un sacseig a dintre l'ànima que els ha portat a confessar els pecats. El crim, tot i que no té llengua, parla a través d'un òrgan que és molt miraculós. Faré que aquests actors interpretin l'escena de la mort del meu pare, al davant del meu oncle. Li observaré l'esguard, el sondaré fins al dolor. Si s'estremeix, ja sabré què he de fer. L'esperit que vaig veure podria ser un dimoni, perquè el dimoni bé pot assumir una forma agradable; sí, potser, per la meva flaquesa i melangia, ell que és tan poderós amb aquestes natures, em vol fer condemnar amb enganys. Vull proves més concretes. Faré servir aquesta obra per atrapar la consciència del rei. 

Ésser, o no ésser

III 1

HAMLET

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Ser o no ser: aquest és el dilema:
si a l'esperit li és més noble sofrir
els cops i els dards de la ultratjant fortuna,
o armar-se contra un mar de sofriments
i enllestir-los lluitant. Morir, que és com dormir,
res més: dir que amb el son finalitzem els mals del cor, les mil ferides naturals
que la carn va heretar. És un final
per desitjar devotament. Morir, dormir,
i potser somiar; aquest és el destorb:
perquè els somnis que habiten en el son de la mort,
un cop ja ens hem desprès d'aquesta pell mortal,
ens imposen respecte, és aquesta la causa
que fa que les desgràcies durin tant.
Perquè, si no, qui podria aguantar
les fuetades i les burles d'aquest temps
l'insult de l'opressor, l'ultratge del superb,
tot el dolor de l'amor menyspreat,
la lentitud de la justícia, la insolència dels càrrecs,
i el desdeny que dels indignes rep la gent de mèrit,
si pogués un mateix donar-se el cop de gràcia
amb un simple punyal? Qui portaria el pes
d'una vida cansada de queixes i suors,
si no fos per la por d'alguna cosa
més enllà de la mort, aquest país no descobert
que no deixa tornar de les seves fronteres
a cap dels viatgers, que ens confon el desig,
i ens fa suportar els mals que ara tenim
més que fer-nos volar cap als que ens són desconeguts?
Així, doncs, la consciència ens fa covards a tots,.
i així el color natiu de la resolució
queda esblaimat pel pàl.lid deix del pensament;
i els projectes més alts i de més importància,
per aquesta raó desvien el seu curs,
i perden fins i tot el nom d'acció.
Però ara, silenci. Bella Ofèlia!
Nimfa, que siguin recordats els meus pecats
en les teves pregàries.

Crueltat de Hamlet envers Ofèlia

III 1

HAMLET

Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.

bawd=puta

OPHELIA

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET

You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA

I was the more deceived.

HAMLET

Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
Where's your father?

[...]

OPHELIA

O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

Ah, que una ment tan noble s'hagi degradat tant!
l'ull, la llengua i l'espasa
del cortesà, del savi i del soldat,
l'esperança i la flor del bon govern futur,
el mirall de la moda i el model de les formes,
el punt de mira de tots els esguards,
caigut, completament caigut!
I jo la noia més indigna i malaurada,
que vaig tastar la mel i l'harmonia
de les sevs promeses he de veure aquest seny
tan noble i sobirà totalment discordant
com un so de campanes desafinat i aspre.
Aquesta forma única, model de joventut,
marcit per al follia! Quina pena,
haver vist el que vist i el que ara veig.

El teatre

III, 2

Enter HAMLET and Players

HAMLET

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
as many of your players do, I had as lief the
town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
for the most part are capable of nothing but
inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

First Player

I warrant your honour.

HAMLET

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
word to the action; with this special o'erstep not
the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is
from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
censure of the which one must in your allowance
o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
players that I have seen play, and heard others
praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
nature's journeymen had made men and not made them
well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

Recita aquell fragment, si et plau, tal com ho he fet jo, com si et fluís sobre la llengua; però si l'has de dir cridant, tal com fan molts comediants, val més que el faci recitar a un pregoner. I no tallis massa l'aire amb les mans, així. Tracta'l més aviat amb gentilesa, perquè fins i tot en el mateix torrent, en la tempesta, i, per dir-ho d'alguna manera, en el remolí de la passió, has d'adquirir i generar una temperança que hi doni sua­vitat. Ah, l'ànima se'm fereix quan sento un energu­men d'aquests, amb la perruca a la closca, esquinçant i esparracant un sentiment, i eixordant els del pati. A la majoria d'aquests espectadors se'ls fa impossible entendre res més que les gesticulacions incongruents i el soroll. Un individu així, jo el faria fuetejar per exagerar el paper de Tergamant i per fer més d'Herodes que el mateix Herodes. No ho feu, això, si us plau.

ACTOR I '

Altesa, us ho garanteixo.

HAMLET

Tampoc no es tracta de ser massa insípid. Deixa't guiar pel teu criteri. Harmonitza el gest amb la paraula i la paraula amb el gest, amb aquesta observació especial: no desbordis la modèstia de la naturalitat, perquè qualse­vol exageració s'allunya dels propòsits del teatre, que ha tingut des del començament, i encara ara té, la finalitat Í d'oferir un mirall a la naturalesa, i de mostrar a la virtut ', a seva pròpia figura, al vici la seva pròpia imatge, i a 'I cada època i generació la forma i estil que li són propis. I Ara bé, si això s'exagera o s'amorteix, per més que faci, riure als que no hi entenen, entristeix els que tenen seny, ', i l'opinió d'aquests t'ha d'importar més que tot un teatre ple dels altres. Mira: he vist actuar comediants -i n'he sentit lloar d'altres- que, per no dir-ho duna manera profana, sense tenir accent ni gesticulacions cristianes, ni paganes, ni tan sols humanes, es movien estufats i bramaven de tal manera que em feien pensar que havien estats creats per algun aprenent de la Natura que no en sabia gaire, perquè imitaven la humanitat d'una manera totalment inhumana.

The Mousetrap

III, 2

KING CLAUDIUS

What do you call the play?

HAMLET

The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
that?

Manipular l'home, com si fos una flauta

III, 2

Re-enter Players with recorders

O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with
you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
as if you would drive me into a toil?

GUILDENSTERN

O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
unmannerly.

HAMLET

I do not well understand that. Will you play upon
this pipe?

GUILDENSTERN

My lord, I cannot.

HAMLET

I pray you.

GUILDENSTERN

Believe me, I cannot.

HAMLET

I do beseech you.

GUILDENSTERN

I know no touch of it, my lord.

HAMLET

'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with
your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
Look you, these are the stops.

GUILDENSTERN

But these cannot I command to any utterance of
harmony; I have not the skill.

HAMLET

Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my
mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to
the top of my compass: and there is much music,
excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot
you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am
easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what
instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
cannot play upon me.

Les formes dels núvols

III, 2

Enter POLONIUS

God bless you, sir!

LORD POLONIUS

My lord, the queen would speak with you, and
presently.

HAMLET

Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?

LORD POLONIUS

By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

HAMLET

Methinks it is like a weasel. [mostela]

LORD POLONIUS

It is backed like a weasel.

HAMLET

Or like a whale?

LORD POLONIUS

Very like a whale.

HAMLET

Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool
me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

LORD POLONIUS

I will say so.

HAMLET

By and by is easily said.

Remordiments de Claudi

III 3

What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.

Mare i fill

III, 4

HAMLET

Now, mother, what's the matter?

QUEEN GERTRUDE

 Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

HAMLET

Mother, you have my father much offended.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

HAMLET

Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

Veure sense sentir, sentir sense veure-hi

III,4

A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man:
This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?

Era el vostre marit. Ara mireu-vos l'altre
és el vostre marit, com una espiga borda
que contagia el seu germà. No teniu ulls?
Abandonar la fruita d'un jardí tan bonic
 per engreixar-vos en aquest ermot!

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love; for at your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.

Quin dimoni va ser
que us va enganyar fent-vos triar sense ulls?
Ulls sense sentiment; sentiment sense vista,
orelles sense mans ni ulls, olfacte sol,
sense resmés.Ni una petita part
malalta d'un sentit no hauria estat tan ximple.

L'esperit, que encara estima la mare

III, 4

Ghost

Do not forget: this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.

No ho oblidis: aquesta aparició
ha de servir per esmolar el teu objectiu,
quasi esmossat. Però observa el neguit
al rostre de la teva mare; posa't
entre ella i el dolor de la seva ànima.
Parla-hi, Hamlet.

Com una esponja

IV, 2

HAMLET

That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what
replication should be made by the son of a king?

ROSENCRANTZ

Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

HAMLET

Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the
king best service in the end: he keeps them, like
an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to
be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you
shall be dry again.

que xucla els favors, les recompenses i els càrrecs que vénen del rei; però la gent així acaba prestant-li els millors serveis. El rei se'ls posa en un racó de la boca, igual que les mones s'hi posen una poma, i els va llepant fins que se'ls empassa. Quan necessiti tot el que heu arreplegat, us espremerà i us tornareu a convertir en esponges, però seques.

El sopar amb els cucs

IV, 3

KING CLAUDIUS

Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

HAMLET

At supper.

KING CLAUDIUS

At supper! where?

HAMLET

Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
that's the end.

No pas al lloc on menja, sinó on se'l mengen, Una certa assamblea de cucs polítics està sopant amb ell. El vostre cuc és l'únic emperador per la dieta que fa [la dieta de Worns on es condemnà Luter]. Engreixem el bestiar per engreixar-nos nosaltres, i nosaltres ens engreixem per als cucs. El vostre rei gras i el vostre captaire prim no són més que dos plats per a una sola taula. Això és tot.

KING CLAUDIUS

Alas, alas!

HAMLET

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING CLAUDIUS

What dost you mean by this?

HAMLET

Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
progress through the guts of a beggar.

L'home

IV, 4

HAMLET

 I'll be with you straight go a little before.

Exeunt all except HAMLET

How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward, I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
Witness this army of such mass and charge
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

Totes les circumstàncies em delaten, per dur-me a la venjança. Què és un home, si el profit del seu temps és solament menjar i dormir? Una bèstia, res més! Segur que el creador que ens va atorgar un esperit tan ample per entendre el passat i preveure el futur, no ens va donar

una capacitat així, que ens fa semblants als déus, perquè se'ns fes malbé, per no fer-la servir. Però, tant si és per un oblit bestial o per alguna escrupolosa covardia de pensar amb excessiva exactitud sobre les conseqüències (i això és un pensament que té una quarta part de saviesa, però tres quartes parts de covardia), no sé per què segueixo viu només per dir-me «Encara ho has de fer!», tot i que tinc desig, causa, mitjans i força per fer-ho ara mateix. M'hi inciten evidències tan clares com la terra. I aquí tenim un testimoni: aquest exèrcit tan costós i enorme, comandat per un príncep tan tendre i delicat, amb l'esperit inflat de divina ambició, es burla del futur incert que té al davant i exposa tot allò que és mortal i insegur a l'agosarament de la fortuna, de la mort i el perill per una closca buida. És cert que la grandesa veritable no és pas llançar-se sense una gran causa, sinó trobar grandesa en un combat banal quan l'honor està en joc. I jo, què faig? Un pare assassinat i una mare infamada m'haurien d'excitar la sang i la raó, i ho deixo dormir tot, i per vergonya meva, veig la mort imminent de vint mil homes que, per trampa i caprici de la fama, van a la tomba com al llit, lluitant per un terreny que no és prou gran per barallar-s'hi, ni pot fer de sepulcre per contenir-los tots, ni amagar els morts. D'ara endavant, o tinc els pensaments més plens de sang o no em seran res més que un entrebanc.

Ofèlia i les herbes

IV, 6

OPHELIA

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES

 A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA

There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--

Sings

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

OFÈLIA

Aquí hi ha romaní; és per al record. Si et plau, amor, re­corda. I aquí hi ha pensaments; són per a la meditació.

LAERTES

Tot un ensenyament de la follia: records i meditacions hi fan sentit.

OFÈLIA

i Aquí teniu fonoll i corniol. Aquí hi ha ruda per a vós, i I aquesta és per a mi. Li n podríem dir l'herba de la gràcia, dominical. Ah, us m'heu de posar d'una manera diferent. I aquí teniu la margarida. Us donaria violetes, però es van marcir quan va morir el meu pare. Diuen que va fer una bona fi.

[Cantant]

El dolç i bell Robin és tot el meu goig.

The painting of a sorrow

IV, 7

KING CLAUDIUS

Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?

Mort d'Ofèlia

IV, 7

QUEEN GERTRUDE

There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Hi ha un salze que s'inclina sobre el riu i reflecteix en el cristall de l'aigua les fulles platejades. Ella hi ha anat, vestida de garlandes, extravagants: ranuncles, ortigues, margarides i les orquídies que els pastors sense pèls a la llengua anomenen de forma tan grolleres, i les noies en diuen «Dits de mort». I, pujant per les branques més vinclades per penjar-hi les flors, la més maligna s'ha trencat, i tant ella com les flors han caigut dins el rierol plorós. El seu ample vestit l'ha mantingut surant un moment, com si fos una sirena. I ella, incapaç de veure el gran perill, cantava estrofes d'antigues balades, com una criatura que es sentís familiar , en aquell element. Però, ben poc després, el vestit, més pesant de tanta aigua beguda, ha dut la pobre noia del seu cant fins a una mort fangosa.

No t'espremis el cervell

Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.

No t'espremis més el cervell, perquè tens la burra lenta i no et canviarà pas el pas per més que la bastonegis.

Calaveres

V, 1

Throws up a skull

HAMLET

That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:
how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were
Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It
might be the pate of a politician, which this ass
now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,
might it not?

HORATIO

 It might, my lord.

HAMLET

Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,
sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might
be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

HORATIO

Ay, my lord.

HAMLET

Aquest crani tenia llengua i podia cantar. Ara aquest brètol el tira per terra com si fos la mandíbula que va fer servir Caïm per cometre el primer assassinat! I l'altre que ara aga­fa aquell ximple podia haver estat la clepsa d'un polític, d'un que potser era capaç d'entabanar Déu, no et sembla?

Horaci

Sí que ho podria ser, milord.

HAMLET

O d'un cortesà, que potser deia «Bon dia, bon senyor», «com esteu, bon senyor?». Aquest podia ser el senyor Daixonses, que lloava el cavall del senyor Dallonses quan li volia demanar que l'hi deixés, oi que sí?

HAMLET

Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and
knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:
here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to
see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clown

[Sings]
A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
For and a shrouding sheet:
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

Throws up another skull

HAMLET

 There's another: why may not that be the skull of a
lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he
suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

HORACI

Sí, milord.

HAMLET

`Sí, segur que sí. Però ara és propietat de la senyora Cucs, i ( Faixada d'un enterramorts li dóna cops a la nuca. És una evolució interessantíssima, llàstima que no la puguem seguir pas a pas. jan poc va costar d'alimentar aquests os­sos, que ara s'hagin de fer servir per jugar a bitlles? Els meus tremolen només de pensar-hi. ENTERRAMORTS 1 [Cantant]

Una aixada i una pala,

i, per mortalla, un llençol; obriu-me un pou dins l'argila per a un hoste ple de dol.

Agafa un altre crani.

HAMLET

Aquí en tenim un altre. Qui et diu que no és el crani d'un advocat? On han anat a parar les subtileses, el filar prim, la casuística, els títols i les trampetes? Com és que ara toleri que aquest brètol li piqui la closca i ell no li posi un plet per agressió? Hmmm! En el seu temps, aquest homenet devia ser un gran comprador de terres, gràcies als pagarés, els resguards, les garanties i les ac­tes. Li garanteixen les seves garanties, ja que eren do­bles, una extensió de terra més llarga que la llargada d'un parell de contractes? A la seva caixa difícilment s'hi podrien fer cabre tots els títols de propietat que te­nia. I ara el mateix propietari no témés terreny que aquest, oi que no?

La vida és més curta que dir u

V, 2

HAMLET

It will be short: the interim is mine;
And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For, by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.

Responsabilitat penal

V, 2

HAMLET

Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong;
But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
This presence knows,
And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
With sore distraction. What I have done,
That might your nature, honour and exception
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
Sir, in this audience,
Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother.

The rest is silence

V, 2

HAMLET

O, I die, Horatio;
The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
I cannot live to hear the news from England;
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

M'estic morint, Horaci.
El poderós verí se m'enduu l'esperit;
ja no puc viure per sentir les noves
que vénen d'Anglaterra. Però el meu vaticini
és que el poder d'aquest país va cap a Fortimbràs.
Jo li dono el meu vot agonitzant.
Explica-li amb detalls petits i grans
tot el que m'ha mogut a ... La resta és silenci.

Havia fet plans optimistes per llegir-ho el desembre de 2004 i ha passat més d'un any fins que ho he reprès, a febrer de 2006, en la sortida a Solsona.

Falstaff, sac de greix es pensa resultar atractiu per les senyores Ford i Page i els envia la mateixa carta a les dues. Page s'ho pren a broma però el gelós Ford no, i es disfressa de mestre Brook per seguir de prop què passa. La filla de Page té tres pretendents, un afavorit pel pare, l'altre per la mare i l'altre, el jove Fenton que és qui s'estima. Les senyores volen escarmentar Falstaff i el primer encontre acaba amb F en una cistella de roba bruta que es llença al Tàmesi, el segon disfressat de vella i bastonejat i el final, disfressat de cérvol al bosc on les fades el pessiguen fins que tot s'aclareix.

The five sentences

I,1

Bard. Why,sir, for my part, I say, the gentle-
man had drunk himself out of his five sentences.
Eva. It is his 'five senses;' fie, what the igno-
rance is!

The Falstaff Atraction

I,3

Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I
am about.
Pist. Two yards, and more.
Fal. No quips now. Pistol! Indeed, I am in
the waist two yards about; but I am now about
no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean
to make love to Ford's wife: I spy entertainment
in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the
leer of invitation: I can construe the action of
her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her
behaviour, to be Englished rightly, is, 'I am Sir
John Falstaff's.'

...

Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her; and
here another to Page's wife, who even now gave
me good eyes too, examined my parts with most
judicious œilliades: sometimes the beam of her
view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly.
Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine.
Nym. I thank thee for that humour.
Fal. O! she did so course o'er my exteriors
with such a greedy intention, that the appetite
of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burn-
ing-glass. Here's another letter to her: she
bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana,
all gold and bounty. I will be 'cheater to them
both, and they shall be exchequers to me: they
shall be my East and West Indies, and I will
trade to them both. Go bear thou this letter to
Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford.
We will thrive, lads, we will thrive.

Carta de Falstaff

II, 1

Mrs. Page. What! have I 'scaped love-letters
in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now
a subject for them? Let me see.
Ask me no reason why I love you; for though
Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him
not for his counsellor. You are not young, no
more am I; go to then, there's sympathy; you
are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then, there's more
sympathy; you love sack, and so do I; would you
desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee. Mis-
tress Page, at the least, if the love, of a soldier can
suffice, that I love thee. I will not say, pity me,—
'tis not a soldier-like phrase; bat I say, love me.
By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might
For thee to fight,
JOHN
FALSTAFF.
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked
world! one that is well-nigh worn to pieces with
age, to show himself a young gallant! What an
unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunk-
ard picked, with the devil's name! out of my
conversation, that he dares in this manner assay
me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my com-
pany! What should I say to him? I was then
frugal of my mirth:—heaven forgive me! Why,
I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the
putting down of men. How shall I be revenged
on him? for revenged I will be, as sure as his
guts are made of puddings.

[...]

We burn daylight: here, read,
read; perceive how I might be knighted. I
shall think the worse of fat men as long as
I have an eye to make difference of men's liking:
and yet he would not swear; praised women's
modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved
reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have
sworn his disposition would have gone to the
truth of his words; but they do no more
adhere and keep place together than the Hun-
dredth Psalm to the tune of 'Green Sleeves.'
What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so
many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor?
How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the
best way were to entertain him with hope, till the
wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own
grease. Did you ever hear the like?

Mrs. Page. Letter for letter, but that the
name of Page and Ford differs!

L'hostaler que evita la lluita entre el doctor i el mossen

III 1

Host. Peace, I say! hear mine host of the
Garter. Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a
Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; he
gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I
lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? no; he
gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs. Give
me thy hand, terrestrial; so;—give me thy hand,
celestial; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you
both; I have directed you to wrong places:
your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole,
and let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay their
swords to pawn. Follow me, lads of peace;
follow, follow, follow.

Les virtuts de master Fenton

III 2

Host. What say you to young Master Fenton?
he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he
writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April
and May: he will carry't, he will carry't; 'tis in
his buttons; he will carry't.

Les raons de l'amor de Falastaff

III 2

Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing
in me.
Fal. What made me love thee? let that per-
suade thee there's something extraordinary in
thee. Come, I cannot cog and say thou art this
and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn-
buds, that come like women in men's apparel,
and smell like Bucklersbury in simple-time;
I cannot; but I love thee; none but thee; and
thou deservest it.

no sé adular i dir-te això i allò ... com dones en vestit d'home ...

Després de ser llençat al riu

III 5

Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the
Thames water, for my belly's as cold as if I had
swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins.
Call her in.

[...]

Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship
from Mistress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough;
I was thrown into the ford; I have my belly full
of ford.
Quick. Alas the day! good heart, that was
not her fault: she does so. take on with her
men; they mistook their erection.
Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish
woman's promise.

[...]

I quaked
for fear lest the lunatic knave would have
searched it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a
cuckold, held his hand. Well; on went he for a
search, and away went I for foul clothes. But
mark the sequel, Master Brook: I suffered the
pangs of three several deaths: first, an intoler-
able fright, to be detected with a jealous rotten
bell-wether; next, to be compassed, like a good
bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to
point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in,
like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes
that fretted in their own grease: think of that,
a man of my kidney, think of that, that am as
subject to heat as butter; a man of continual
dissolution and thaw: it was a miracle to 'scape
suffocation. And in the height of this bath,
when I was more than half stewed in grease,
like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames,
and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a
horse-shoe; think of that, hissing hot, think of
that. Master Brook!

Conjugant el llatí

IV 1

Eva. That is a good William. What is he,
William, that does lend articles?
Will. Articles are borrowed of the pronoun,
and be thus declined, Singulariter, nominativo,
hic, hæc, hoc.
Eva. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you,
mark: genitive, hujus. Well, what is your ac-
cusative case?
Will. Accusative, hinc.
Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance,
child; accusative, hung, hang, hog.
Quick. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I war-
rant you.
Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is
the focative case, William?

Falstaff al bosc

V 5

Mrs. Ford. Sir John! art thou there, my deer?
my male deer?
Fal. My doe with the black scut! Let the
sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of
'Green Sleeves;' hail kissing-comfits and snow
eringoes; let there come a tempest of provoca-
tion, I will shelter me here. [Embracing her,
Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me,
sweetheart.

Que ploguin patates que troni greensleeves, que caigui pedra de confitura de petons, que nevi i que vingui una tempestat de temptacions, que jo em refugio aquí

Obra estranya, que vaig veure al Lliure, en una versió una mica peculiar.

Deu anys fa que dura la guerra de Troia, que està estancada, els caps grecs barallats entre ells, Aquiles no vol lluitar perquè Agamémnon li ha pres un botí. El príncep Troilus s'ha enamorat de Cressida, filla del troià Calcas que s'ha passat als grecs. Cressida és canviada per un troià capturat, Diomedes la du al campament. Ulisses du a Troilus d'amagat a sentir el festeig entre Diomedes i Cressida, que coqueteja descaradament. Es barallen sense que cap d'ells resulti ferit. Hèctor mata Patrocle. Aquiles entra en combat i mata Hèctor. Troilus torna anunciant la mort d'Hèctor.

Una obra amarga sobre la guerra? personatges menyspreables o, en els més nobles, com Hèctor, o lúcids com Ulisses, que no es poden escapar. Estúpids en la fanfarroneria de la guerra, estúpids en el joc de l'amor.

L'escena 9, on Aquiles mata Hèctor desarmat i atacant en grup,és impressionant. Aquesta obra que em deixava fred a primera vista és un atac esfereidor i amarg a la baixesa de la guerra, i una de les maneres més efectives de fer-ho és mostrar el diví Aquiles com un fanfarró que es pica per un trofeu, encaterinat per un mariconàs, i que mata Hèctor de la manera més baixa.

Els soldats després dels herois troians

I 2

Soldiers pass over.
Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff
and bran! porridge after meat! I could live
and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er
look; the eagles are gone: crows and daws,
wows and daws! I had rather be such a man as
Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece.

Ases, ximples, estúpids! palla i segó (salvado), sèmola després de la carn. Podria viure i morir als ulls de Trolius. Ja no cal que miris, les àguiles han passat: corbs i grulles, garses i corbs.

Cressida en guàrdia

I 2

-----

Pan. You are such a woman! one knows not
at what ward you lie.
Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly;
upon my wit, to defend my wiles (ardits); upon my
secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to
defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these:
and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand
watches.

Hector i lliure albir

II 2

Paris and Troilus, you have both said well;
And on the cause and, question now in hand
Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempered blood
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision.

Follia i ignorància, la maledicció de la humanitat

but it is no matter; thy-
self upon thyself! The common curse of man-
kind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great
revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and
discipline come not near thee!

Les malediccions usuals de la humanitat, la follia i la ignorància, que caiguin sobre teu en abundància! Que el cel et guardi de mentor i que no et vingui la disciplina!

[...]

Here is such patchery, such juggling,
and such knavery! all the argument is a
cuckold and a whore; a good quarrel to draw
emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now,
the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and
lechery confound all!

Vet aquí una ximpleria, una bestiesa i una estafa! I tot plegat per un cabró i una puta; una bona disputa perquè dos partits rivals lluitin fins dessagnar-se morint. Ara que se'ls llevi la pell i que la guerra i la luxúria els confongui.

El coneixement pel reflex dels altres

III 3

Ulyss. Now, great Thetis' son!
Achil. What are you reading?
Ulyss. A strange fellow hem
Writes me,
That man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes but by reflection;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

M'escriu que l'home, per molt valuosos que siguin els seus dots, vastos els seus béns, interiors o morals, no pot estar segur del que té ni sentir sinó és per reflexió, com quan les seves virtuts sobre els altres els escalfen i després reflexen aquesta escalfor altra vegada a qui els la va donar primer.
Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses!
The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself—
That most pure spirit of sense—behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form;
For speculation turns not to itself
Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there
Where it may see itself. This is. not strange
at all.

Això no és estrany Ulisses, la bellesa que portem al rostre, el qui la du no la coneix; però sap de la seva existència pels ulls dels altres, tampoc l'ull, el més pur dels esperits, es capta a si mateix perquè no pot sortir d'ell; sinó que ull amb ull oposats, es saluden l'un a l'altre amb la seva forma; Doncs l'especulació no es gira a si mateixa fins que ha viatjat i s'ha rflectit allà on es pot veure a si mateix.
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar, but at the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves
That no man is the lord of any thing—
Though in and of him there be much consisting—
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they're extended; who, like an arch,
reverberates
The voice again, or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his beat. I was much rapt in
this; And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.

No m'oposo a aquesta poisicó, que és familiar, sinó al que en treu l'autor; que en aquesta circumstància prova expressament que l'home no és senyor de res . encara que en ell i d'ell hi hagi molt- fins que comunica les seves parts als altres, ni tampoc de si mateix les coneix fins que les té en forma d'aplaudiment per on s'ha extés, com quan en un arc, retorna la veu reverberant o en una porta d'acer, davant del sol, rep i reenvia la seva figura.

Els grecs petonegen descaradament

IV 5

Agam. Is this the Lady Cressid?
Dio. Even she.
Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks,
sweet lady.
Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular;
'Twere better she were kiss'd in general.
Nest. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin.
So much for Nestor.
Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips,
fair lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.
Men. I had good argument for kissing once.
Patr. But that's no argument for kissing
now;
For thus popp'd Paris in his hardimeat,
And parted thus you and your argument.
Ulyss. O, deadly gall, and theme of all our
scorns!
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
Patr. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this,
mine:
Patroclus kisses you.
Men. O! this is trim.
Patr. Paris and I, kiss evermore for him.
Men. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your
leave.
Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive?
Patr. Both take and give.

Thersites sobre Aquiles i Patrocle

V 1

Patr. Well said, adversity! and what need
these tricks?
Ther. Prithee, be silent, boy: I profit not
by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles'
male varlet.
Patr. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the
rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping,
ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back,
lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten
livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impos-
thume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i' the palm, incurable
bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the
tetter, take and take again such preposterous
discoveries!

I doncs, la seva puta masculina. Ara, totes les malalties podrides del sud, el que retorça els budells, els encostipats, pedres als ronyons, letargies, humors freds, lleganyes als ulls, fetges podrits, pulmons que suspiren, pústules plenes de pus, les ciàtiques, les sensacions de cremor de calç a les mans, mal d'ossos incurable, la possessió eterna de sarpullitdus, porten i porten a aquests detestables descobriments.
Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy,
thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?
Ther. Do I curse thee?
Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whore-
son indistinguishable cur, no.
Ther. No! why art thou then exasperate,
thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk, thou
green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of
a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah! how the poor
world is pestered with such water-flies, diminu-
tives of nature.

Aleshores perquè d'exasperes, immaterial troca de seda, tu pantalla de vellut per un ull malalt, tu, gla de la bossa d'un pròdig? Ai, com n'està el pobre món d'empestat d'aquestes libelules, diminutius de la natura,
Patr. Out, gall!

Fora fel
Ther. Finch egg!

ou de pinsà
Achil. My sweet-Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay;
My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus!
[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Ther. With too much blood and too little
brain, these two may run mad; but if with too
much brain, and too little blood they do, I'll be
a curer of madmen. here's Agamemnon, an
honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails,
but he has not so much brain as ear-wax: and
the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his
brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and
oblique memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty shoe-
ing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,
to what form but that he is should wit larded
with malice and malice forced with wit turn
him to? To an ass, were nothing: he is both
ass and ox; to an ox, were nothing: he is both
ax and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew,
a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring
without a roe, I would not care; but to be
Menelaus! I would conspire against destiny.
Ask me not what I would be, if I were not
Thersites, for I care not to be the louse of a
lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day! spirits
and fires!

Amb massa sang i massa poc cervell, aquest parell es poden tornar bojos, però si hi ha massa cervell i poca sang s'hi tornen, em faré guaridor de bojos.

La maledicció de Cassandra

V 3

Cas. O farewell! dear Hector.
Look! how thou diest; look! how thy eye turns
pale;
Look! how thy wounds do bleed at many
vents:
Hark! how Troy roars: how Hecuba cries out!
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth!
Behold, distraction, frenzy, and amazement,
Like witless anticks, one another meet,
And all cry Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector!

Thersites el bastard

V 8

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker
are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris,
'loo! now, my double-henned sparrow! 'loo,
Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game: 'ware
horns, ho! [Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS.

Enter MARGARELON.
Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?
Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.
Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I
am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard
in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegi-
timate. One bear will not bite another, and
wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the
quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a
whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment.
Farewell, bastard. [Exit.
Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [E

Aquiles mata Hèctor

V 9

Hect. Most putrefied core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take good
breath:
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and
death. [Puts off his helmet, and hangs
his shield behind him.

Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to
set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the vail and darking of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage,
Greek.
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike! this is the man
I seek. [HECTOR falls.
So, Ilion, fall thou next! now. Troy, sink down!
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
On! Myrmidons, and cry you all amain,
'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.'—
[A retreat sounded.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part.
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like,
my lord.

Londres, març 2006

Elena es vol casar amb Beltran, i fa servir el rei per obligar-lo. Aquest però, després de les noces s'escapa a Itàlia i diu que per acceptar-la haurà de tenir un anell seu i un fill seu, esperant que no ho podrà cumplir. Elena viatja a Itàlia disfressada de peregrí i busca Beltran que s'està a casa de Diana, a qui vol seduir. Elena ocupa el lloc al llit fent-se passar per Diana i li pren l'anell, queda embarassada. Inspirat en el Decameró. Comèdia amarga, amb tocs chejovians. Barreja de gèneres, realisme, màgia, contes de fades,

Els remeis són en nosaltres mateixos, no en el cel

I 1

 HELENA

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high,
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose
What hath been cannot be: who ever strove
So show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease--my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me.

Exit

Una resposta per a tot

II 2

 COUNTESS

Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all
questions.

Clown

It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks,
the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn
buttock, or any buttock.

els culs en punta, els culs rodons, els carnosos o qualsevol cul

COUNTESS

Will your answer serve fit to all questions?

Clown

As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney,
as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's
rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove
Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his
hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen
to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the
friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin.

Tan bé com deu groats a mans d'un procurador, cm la corona francesa a puta en seda, com el jonc de'n Tib a l'índex de'n Tom, com la botifarra per fijoous gras, com el clau pel forat, com les banyes pel cornut, com una reina rondinaire a un marit amargat, com els llavis d'una monja a la boca d'un frare, com el pudding a la seva pell.

Els filòsofs investigant causes naturals

II 3

 LAFEU

They say miracles are past; and we have our
philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar,
things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that
we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves
into seeming knowledge, when we should submit
ourselves to an unknown fear.

El repte per a Helena

III 2

HELENA

Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport.

Reads

When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which
never shall come off, and show me a child begotten
of thy body that I am father to, then call me
husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.'
This is a dreadful sentence.

Parolles, covard mentider

III 6

Second Lord

Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,
without any malice, but to speak of him as my
kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and
endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner
of no one good quality worthy your lordship's
entertainment.

First Lord

It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in
his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some
great and trusty business in a main danger fail you.

Canvi al llit

III 7

Widow

Now I see
The bottom of your purpose.

HELENA

You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
Herself most chastely absent: after this,
To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is passed already.

Parolles sobre els capitans

IV 3

[un altre cas d'experiment sobre què diem en quines condicions]

PAROLLES

He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for
rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he
professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he
is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with
such volubility, that you would think truth were a
fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will
be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little
harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they
know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but
little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has
every thing that an honest man should not have; what
an honest man should have, he has nothing.

Londres, març 2006

(Morley Take, O take those lips away)

EL Duc de Viena deixa la ciutat en mans d'un monjo Angelo, amb instrucions de fer cumplir la moralitat, però hi torna disfressat de frare. Angelo fa tancar bordells i condemna Claudi a mort per haver deixat embarassat a Julieta. Aquest demana a la seva germana monja, Isabela, que intercedeixi amb Angelo que diu accedir-hi si ella se'n va al llit amb ell. S'hi nega. Claudio és coonfortat pel Duc disfressat que s'empesca que una antiga novia d'ANgelo, Mariana, es faci passar per ISabela. Però ANgelo preten la mort de Claudio de totes totes. Intenten que s'executi l'assassí BErnardino en lloc seu, però no poden, i al final fan passar el cap d'un pirata decapitat pel de Claudio. Torna el Duc que vol castigar a Angelo però al final les tres parelles es casen.

Interessants papers, Duc com a experimenador de la naturalesa humana, Isabela com una jove que descobreix el seu intelecte i la seva sexualitat. Obra d'anàlisi sobre les relacions humanes.

Cal estar preparat per la mort, igual que el bestiar per la cuina

II 2

 ANGELO

Be you content, fair maid;
It is the law, not I condemn your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.

ISABELLA

To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!
He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you;
Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Claudio, la por a la mort

III 1

CLAUDIO

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.

Angelo, criatura freda no engendrada com les altres

III 2

LUCIO

A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in
him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

Una mica més d'indulgència en la lubricitat no li faria cap mal

DUKE VINCENTIO

It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

LUCIO

Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;
it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp
it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put
down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and
woman after this downright way of creation: is it
true, think you?

DUKE VINCENTIO

How should he be made, then?

LUCIO

Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he
was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is
certain that when he makes water his urine is
congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a
motion generative; that's infallible.

una sirena, o una parell de bacallans, quan pixa l'orina es congela en gel

Punk

V 1

DUKE VINCENTIO

Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?

LUCIO

My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are
neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Potser és una puta,perquè n'hi a moltes que no són verges, ni vidues ni esposes

Measure for measure

V 1

DUKE VINCENTIO

For this new-married man approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,--
Being criminal, in double violation
Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach
Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,--
The very mercy of the law cries out
Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!'
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE.

Marrying a punk

V 1

LUCIO

I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore.
Your highness said even now, I made you a duke:
good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.

DUKE VINCENTIO

Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison;
And see our pleasure herein executed.

LUCIO

Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death,
whipping, and hanging.

(Morley, Willow)

Inspirat en una història de Cinthio. A Venècia, el moro Othelo, un triomfador, s'enamora de l'adolescent filla del senador Brabantio. El seu alférez Iago, en no ser ascendit a tinent -li donen el lloc a Casio, se'n venja, primer acusant-lo de dormir amb ella, i després despertant la gelosia amb un mocador perdut que li permetrà fer creure que Casio és l'amant de Desdèmona. Othelo l'ofegarà amb un coixí. Iago mata la seva dona Emília, honesta, horroritzada espectadora de la natura humana, i a Roderic, per interferir en els seus plans. En saber-se tot Ohelo se suicida.

[la terrible malaltia de la gelosia, quan Othelo creu tenir motius per creure que no és prou; la banalitat del mal de Iago -tot el mal que pot arribar a fer i causar, amb gran atenció pels detalls, amb absoluta indiferència pels altres. Un estudi sobre la sospita, la desconfiança. També sobre l'aparença i la realitat del caràcter que es veu en Iago.

En una societat materialista i basada en les reputacions, la parella que ha desafiat les convencions, Othello i Desdèmona, està abocada a la destrucció, ella tractada de puta, i ell de banyut -per ser negre?-.

El comentari parla de la “música” d'Othelo, en contraposar el llenguatge elevat del moro, i els soliloquis realistes i despietats de Iago.

Kermode assenyala la baixesa de Iago, un cert prototipus de militar. El recurs a les parelles de mots, les hendiadys, que apareixen més al principi. La baixesa de Iago té unes arrels fondes, les de no saber veure ni bellesa ni virtut en res, de considerar el sexe com una baixesa [com els puritans obessionats amb el sexe que avorreixen]. [Notable la metàfora del cos com un jardí.] una baixesa que ho corromp tot: no existeix l'amor, sinó com a “lust of the blood and permission of the will”. La continguda escena IIIiii on se sembra el dubte.

Iago sent fàstic pel sexe, i infecta Othelo del seu propi disgust [com un Losantos].

Kermode assenyala tota una constel·lació de referència a “see”, “look”, “observe”.

Othello és l'obra més operística de S. [potser per això s'esmenta la de Verdi].

La versió en F inclou la canço del salze, la del Q no.

Les feministes trobarien important el discurs d'Emília quan defensa el dret de les dones a tenir una vida sexual digna si estan sotmeses a marits tirànics.

Othello era elprototipus del príncep nordafricà poderós i sexualment potent, una noció arrelada en el públic des d'abans dels temps d'Elisabet [com ha canviat la manera de veure els moros des d'aleshores! Ara veiem els norafricans com una gent incapaç de construir, miserable, més propensa a l'engany que no pas al tracte honest]. Othello parla en vers i maneres elevades, com un militar, fins que colapsa, que ho fa en prosa.

The new issue of Scientific American Mind profiles the work of Paul Ekman, a psychologist best known for reading people's faces by watching for the most subtle "microexpressions" that flash by. (Ekman was a student of Silvan Tomkins who featured prominently in Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink.) Ekman famously cataloged the thousands of possible combinations of facial muscles positions that form expressions. The resulting techniques he developed to read microexpressions are outlined in several of his popular books, including Emotions Revealed: Recognizing Faces and Feelings to Improve Communication and Emotional Life, and Telling Lies: Clues to Deceit in the Marketplace, Politics, and Marriage. From the Scientific American Mind article:

Ekman, 72, lives in Oakland, Calif., in a bright and airy house near the bay. As I talked with him there, he studied me, his eyes peering out from under bushy brows as if they were registering each brief facial tic I unknowingly exhibited. Does his talent make him a mind reader? "No," he says candidly. "The most I can do is tell how you are feeling at the moment but not what you are thinking." He is not being modest or coy; he is simply addressing the psychological bottom line behind facial expressions: "Anxiety always looks like anxiety," he explains, "regardless of whether a person fears that I'm seeing through their lie or that I don't believe them when they're telling the truth."

The professor calls the ever present risk we all take of misreading a person's visage "Othello's error." In Shakespeare's drama, Othello misinterprets the fear in his wife Desdemona's face as a sign of her supposed infidelity. In truth, the poor woman is genuinely alarmed at her husband's unjust, jealous rage. Othello's subsequent decision to kill Desdemona is a fatal error, and Ekman wants to make sure that police, security personnel and secret service agents do not make the same mistake. "Arresting the guilty is a good thing," he acknowledges, "but decreasing the number of innocent people who are falsely accused is just as important." His system for understanding the emotions that faces portray, and his expertise in applying it, could help all kinds of law-enforcement and legal personnel in their work. It could also help the rest of us better negotiate how our family members, friends and colleagues really feel.

Solius, juliol 2006

Shows of service

Ii

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd;
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and when they have lined their coats
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some
soul; And such a one do I profess myself.

Black ram

Ii

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe.

Ara mateix un vell boc negre està cobrint la vostra blanca ovella.

[...]

Because we come to do you service and you think we are
ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with
a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh
to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and
gennets for germans.

Els néts us renillaran, corsers per cosins i genets per germans

The bloody book of law

Iiii

Duke. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.

Our bodies are our gardens

Iiii

Iago. Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we
are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to
the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we
will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and
weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs
or distract it with many, either to have it sterile
with idleness or manured with industry, why,
the power and corrigible authority of this lies in
our wills. If the balance of our lives had not
one scale of reason to poise another of sensual-
ity, the blood and baseness of our natures would
conduct us to most preposterous conclusions;
but we have reason to cool our raging motions,
our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I
take this that you call love to be a sect or scion.

Virtut? I una polla! És en nosaltres de fer que siguem això o olla. Els nostres cossos són els nostres jardins dels quals la nostra voluntat n'és el jardiner, de manera que si volem plantar ortigues o ensiams, fonoll o farigola, proveir-lo d'un gènere d'herbes determinat o dividir-lo en molts, que quedi estèril per l'ociositat, o conreat amb indústria. I doncs!el poder i l'autoritat de corregir aixó rau en lles nostres voluntats. Si la balança de les nostres vides no tingués un plat de raó per compensar el de la sensualitat, la sang i la baixesa de les nostres natures ens duria a les més absurdes conseqüències; però tenir una raó per refredar els nostres ardents moviments, els agullons carnals, els desigs desfermats, d'on en trec que això que anomeneu amor és un esqueix o un brot.
Rod. It cannot be.
Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood and a
permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown
thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. I have
professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit
to thy deserving with cables of perdurable tough-
ness; I could never better stead thee than now.

És només un desig de la sang amb el permís de la voluntat. Vinga, sigues un home, ofega't a tu mateix.

Sobre les dones

IIi

Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

Her eye must be fed

IIi

Mark me with what violence she
first loved the Moor but for bragging and telling
her fantastical lies; and will she love him still
for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it.
Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall
she have to look on the devil? When the blood
is made dull with the act of sport, there should
be, again to inflame it, and to give satiety a
fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy
in years, manners, and beauties; all which the
Moor is defective in.

Their breaths embraced toghether

IIi

Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
Iago. Lechery (lascívia], by this hand! an index and
obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul
thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that
their breaths embraced together. Villanous
thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities so
marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master
and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion.

La reputació

IIiii

Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you
had received some bodily wound; there is more
offence in that than in reputation. Reputation
is an idle and most false imposition; oft got
without merit, and lost without deserving: you
have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute
yourself such a loser.

Mals músics

IIIi

Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument
that I know. But, masters, here's money for
you; and the general so likes your music, that
he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more
noise with it.
First Mus. Well, sir, we will not.
Clo. If you have any music that may not be
heard, to't again; but, as they say, to hear music
the general does not greatly care.
First Mus. We have none such, sir.
Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for
I'll away. Go; vanish into air; away!

La sembra de la gelosia [tota l'escena IIIiii]

Oth. What dost thou think?
Iago. Think, my lord!
Oth. Think, my lord!
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean
something:
I heard thee say but now, thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife; what didst not like?

[...]

Iago. O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O! what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves!

[...]

To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love or jealousy!

[...]

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of
lust?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harmed not me;
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips;
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't and he's not robbed at all.
Iago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O! now, for ever
Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counter-
feit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

Iago. Is it possible, my lord?
Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my wak'd wrath.

[...]

If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk; but yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.

El to de la veu

IVii

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech
import?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.

La cançó del salze

IV iii

Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;—
Lay by these:—
Sing willow, willow, willow:
Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon.—
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him,his scorn I approve,—
Nay, that's not next. Hark! who is it that knocks?
Emil. It is the wind.
Des. I call'd my love false love; but what said he
then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men.
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?

El dret de les dones

IV iii

Des. I do not think there is any such woman.
Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to the
vantage, as would store the world they play'd for.
But I do think it is their husbands' faults
If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite;
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is; and doth affection breed it?
I think it doth; is't frailty that thus errs?
It is so too; and have not we affections,
Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
Then, let them use us well; else let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

Die upon a kiss

V ii

And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity.
O! cursed, cursed slave. Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!

[...]

Oth. I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee; no way
but this, [Falling upon DESDEMONA.
Killing myself to die upon a kiss. [Dies.

Santander, agost 2006

Lear [embogit] vol repartir el seu regne a les seves tres filles, i pregunta quina l'estima més. Goneril [foc] i Regan [freda i calculadora] ho escenifiquen però la tercera, Cordèlia, es nega a entrar al joc i és desterrada a França, com també ho és el fidel Kent que intenta discutir-hi. Aquest tornarà disfressat per servir-lo. En una segona trama, Edmund [dolent per antonomàsia, amb soliloquis cínics i irònics], fill de il·legítim de Gloucester convenç el seu pare que el seu germà Edgar el vol matar; i fuig.

El seguici de Goneril i Regan abusa de l'hospitalitat de Lear, i les filles l'insulten. Surt a l'intempèrie, enmig d'una tormenta, amb el Bufó, Kent, i es troba amb Edgar [aquestes tormentes de la vida on ens trobem de tant en tant, sense res]. G acull Lear i el refugia a Dover, Regan i el seu marit Cornwall, en ser acusats per G, reaccionen treient-li els ulls i deixant-lo abandonat als cingles de Dover on Edgar el salva de poc. Goneril i Regan estan enamorades d'Edmund. Albany, marit de Goneril, quan ho sàpiga l'obligarà a defensar-se dels qui l'acusin i s'haurà d'enfrontar al “beneit” que és Edgar disfressat. Goneril enverina Regan i se suïcida. Edmund revela que havia ordenat fer matar Lear i Cordèlia. L'indult d'Albany arriba tard, Lear es troba amb Cordèlia morta [al final de la vida ens trobem que allò méspreciós ho havíem deixat de banda], la plora, i mor també.

Ambició, cobdícia, un món absurd on la racionalitat és bogeria, la disfressa veritat, la bogeria seny. Mcleish compara aquesta obra amb el llibre de Job o el judici final de Miquel Àngel. Al fons de la desesperació hi ha la possibilitat de redempció ... el triomf d'Edgar, però parcial -i en aquest sentit anticristiana- Cordèlia ja ha mort, i res ho podrà compensar.

Kermode. L'obra és sobre el sofriment delmón tal com l'heretem o com el fem nosaltres mateixos. No és una anècdota, és universal. Ben aviat, ens trobem com en una mena de grotesc carnestoltes, com quan amos i serventsintercanviaven els llocs, la gent “normal” i “racional” són monstres, i els ximples, pallassos i captaires bojos són els que presenten autèntica humanitat. IV.vi és potser l'escena més cruel i alhora més bella de Shakespeare.

[el que més empremta m'ha deixat és l'escena dels marginats i desheretats, nus o en parracs, sota l'aigua que cau, Lear, més humà que mai quan està boig, Kent, el pallasso, Edgar fent de boig]

La subhasta de l'afecte

Ii

Lear

 Tell me, my daughters,--
Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,--
Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

GONERIL

 Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

 CORDELIA

[Aside] What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.

[...]

Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

CORDELIA

Nothing, my lord.

KING LEAR

Nothing!

CORDELIA

Nothing.

KING LEAR

Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.

CORDELIA

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more nor less.

Kent desterrat

Ii

 KENT

Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

Bona sort,rei, si així és com et mostres, la llibertat viu lluny d'aquí, i això és l'exili

Edmun i la natura

Iii

 EDMUND

 Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:

Naturalesa tu ets la meva dea, i és a la teva llei que estan lligats els meus serveis. Per què m'he de fer esclau dels costums, i permetre que els matisos que imposen les nacions em desheretin, pel sol fet de tenir dotze o catorze llunes menys que el meu germà? Per què bastard i vil quan tinc el cos tan ben format, l'esperit noble i una figura digna d'una dama d'honor? Per què ens tracten de vils? Bastards? Vils, vils? Nosaltres, que, en el furt impetuós de la natura, rebem formes millors i qualitats més vigoroses que les creades en un llit insípid, avorrit i ranci, per una colla d'enzes, entre el somni i la vetlla? Doncs bé, legítim Edgar, tindré les teves terres.

Determinisme astrològic?

Iii

GLOUCESTER

 These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can
reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,
friendship falls off, brothers divide: in
cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in
palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son
and father. This villain of mine comes under the
prediction; there's son against father: the king
falls from bias of nature; there's father against
child. We have seen the best of our time:
machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our
graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall
lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the
noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his
offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.

Exit

Aquests darrers eclipsis del sol i de la lluna no són presagi de res de bo. Encara que la ciència ens ho puguués raonar així o aixà, la natura es troba fuetejada per aquets efectes: l'amor es refreda; l'amistat defalleix; els germans es divideixen; a la ciutat, motins; als països, discòrdia; al palau, traïdories, i es trenquen els lligams entre el1 pare i el fill. Aquest miserable confirma les prediccions: aquí tenim un fill contra el pare. El rei s'aparta de les inclinacions naturals: aquí tenim un pare contra el fill. Hem vist el bo i millor de la nostra època: maquinacions, superficialitat, traïdoria i tot de desordres ruïnosos que ens segueixen tumultuosament cap al camí i la tomba. Busca'm aquest canalla, Edmund. No hi, perdràs pas res; fes-ho amb compte. I Kent, noble i sincer de cor, exiliat! La seva culpa és l'honradesa. Que n'és d'estrany tot això!

EDMUND

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,
when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit
of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our
disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as
if we were villains by necessity; fools by
heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,
liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of
planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,
by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion
of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
disposition to the charge of a star! My
father compounded with my mother under the
dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa
major; so that it follows, I am rough and
lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,
had the maidenliest star in the firmament
twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar--

Aquesta és la magnífica imbecil.litat del món, que, quan estem malalts en la fortuna (sovint per culpa dels excessos de la nostra conducta), donem la culpa dels desastres al sol, a la lluna i a les estrelles, com si fóssim canalles per necessitat; beneits per obligació celestial; miserables, lladres i traïdors per les influències de les esferes; borratxos, mentiders i adúlters per una obediència forçosa als dictats dels astres, i tot allò que ens fa dolents, per un impuls diví. Quina excusa més admirable que té el que va de putes: descarregar la seva calentor sobre les estrelles! El meu pare i 1a meva mare s'ho van fer sota la cua del Dragó, i jo vaig néixer sota la influència de l'Óssa Major, i d'això se'n deriva que sóc groller i luxuriós. Crist! Hauria estat el que sóc, encara que l'estrella més virginal hagués guspirejat sobre la meva bastardia. Edgard!

48 anys de Kent

I iv

 KING LEAR

How old art thou?

KENT

 Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor
so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years
on my back forty eight.

Lear, bandejat

I iv

 KING LEAR

Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings
Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?

La funció del nas

I v

Fool

She will taste as like this as a crab does to a
crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i'
the middle on's face?

KING LEAR

No.

Fool

Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that
what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

Serà com tastar un poma agra després d'haver-ne tastat una altra. Sabeu perquè tenim el nas al mig de la cara?

Doncs per poder tenir un ull a cada costat i això poder clissar allò que el nas no pot flairar.

Lear i el seny

I v

Fool

 If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten
for being old before thy time.

KING LEAR

How's that?

Fool

 Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
been wise.

KING LEAR

 O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven
Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!

Kent insultant

II ii

 KENT

A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.

Per un canalla, un brètol, per un que no menja sinó escorrialles, per un truà miserable, orgullós, superficial, de tres mudes de roba, de cent lliures, de porques mitges d'estam; per un gallina de fetge esblaimat, per tin estalviabaralles, per un fill de puta, per un brètol miramiralls, llepaculs i melindrós; per un esclau que només ha heretat un bagul, per un que, per fer mèrits, faria comerç amb les putes. I no ets res més que una barreja de canalla, captaire, covard, arlot, i fill i hereu d'una gossa bastarda, un que atonyinaré fins que lladri clamorosament, si em nega la més petita síl·laba de tots els títols que li he donat.

Comença la tempesta

II iv

KING LEAR

O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,--
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall--I will do such things,--
What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

Exeunt KING LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and Fool

Storm and tempest

Ah, no em doneu raons de la necessitat! En la seva pobresa, els captaires més pobres tenen coses que no són necessàries. Si no doneu a la naturalesa més del que la naturalesa necessita, la vida humana no valdrà pas més que la que val la d'una bèstia. Tu ets una dama: si només per guardar-te del fred, portes vestits luxosos, mira: el teu luxe sol no et guardaria pas del fred. I pel que fa a la necessitat real... Ah, cels, m'heu de donar paciència, perquè la necessito. Aquí em teniu, oh déus, sóc un pobre home vell, tan carregat de sofriment com d'anys, i miserable en totes dues coses. Si vosaltres que moveu els cors d'aquestes filles contra el seu pare, no em feu ser tan beneit per suportar-ho sense protestar; doneu-me una ira ben noble, i no deixeu que aquestes armes femenines, gotes d'aigua, puguin tacar-me el rostre! No, bruixes sense entranyes, em venjaré de totes dues fins al punt que el món sàpiga... Sí, que jo puc fer coses així... Encara no sé quines; però sé que seran els terrors de la terra. Vosaltres us penseu que ploraré. No, no ho faré.

Comença la tempesta.

Tinc moltes causes per plorar, però aquest cor esclatarà en cent mil bocins abans no plori. Ah, Bufó, em torno boig.

Surten Lear, Gloucester, Kent i el Bufó.

Lear a la tempesta

III ii

KING LEAR

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

Fool

O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry
house is better than this rain-water out o' door.
Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing:
here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool.

KING LEAR

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription: then let fall
Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

[...]

LEAR

Bufeu, vents, que les galtes seus esbotzin! Enfuriu-vos, bufeu! Aigües del cel i de la mar, vesseu fins a colgar els penells dels campanars ofegant els seus galls! Focs sulfurosos, tan ràpids com el pensament, heralds dels llamps, que parteixen els roures, cremeu el meu cap blanc! Tu, tro sacsejador, aplana d'un sol cop la densa rodonesa d'aquest món; esberla tots el motlles de la naturalesa, i destrueix els gèrmens que engendren l'home ingrat.

Bufó

Ai, oncle, l'aigua beneita de la cort en una casa seca és millor que aquesta aigua de pluja. Bon oncle, entrem a

dintre; demaneu la benedicció a les vostres filles. Aquesta és una d'aquelles nits que no s'apiaden ni dels assenyats ni dels folls.

LEAR

Fes que et retroni el ventre! Foc, escup; vessa, pluja! Ni la pluja, ni el vent, ni el tro, ni el foc no són les meves filles. No us acuso, elements, d'ingratitud; no us vaig donar un reialme, ni us vaig anomenar fills meus; no em deveu cap obediència; deixeu anar els vostres plaers horribles. Jo sóc aquí, i sóc el vostre esclau, pobre, malalt, vell, feble, menyspreat. Tot i així us anomeno criats servils perquè us heu aliat amb les meves degenerades filles per dirigir els vostres exèrcits contra un cap vell i blanc com el meu. Ah, quin acte més baix!

 KING LEAR

My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold?
I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come,
your hovel.
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee.

LEAR

Sembla que em torni el seny. Vine, noiet. Què fa aquest meu noiet? Tens fred? Jo també en tinc.

A Kent.

On és la palla, amic? Que n'és d'estranya Part de la necessitat, perquè pot convertir les coses vils

en valuoses. On has dit que era, la cabana?

A1 Bufó.

Pobre murri beneit! Encara em queda al cor un lloc que sent pena per tu.

Encara la tempesta

III iv

KING LEAR

 Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
mind's free,
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to't? But I will punish home:
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure.
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,--
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.

LEAR

Tu veus exagerat que una tempesta furiosa ens penetri la pell. Per tu sí, que és així; pero al lloc on habiten mals pitjors els més lleus no se senten. Fugiries corrent davant d'un ós; pero si la fugida et portés fins a un mar enfurismat, t'hi encararies, contra la gola d'aquest ós. Quan l'esperit és lliure, el cos és delicat: pero jo a l'esperit hi tinc una tempesta que em deixa endormiscats tots els altres sentits, llevat del que batega aquí.

La ingratitud deIs fills! No és com si aquesta boca queixalegés aquesta ma perque li acosta els aliments? Sentiran el meu castigo No, no vull plorar més. En una nit així, deixar-me fora!

Que plogui;ja ho resistiré. En una nit així! Ah, Regan, Goneril! El vostre pare, que amb el cor obert us ha va donar tot...! És aquest el camí que mena a la follia. Deixeu-me'l evitar. No en parlem més.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

KING LEAR

Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease:
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.

To the Fool

In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,--
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.

Fool goes in

Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

KENT

Si us plau, milord, entreu!

LEAR

Entra-hi tu, per favor; busca el teu benestar. A mi, aquestatempesta m'impediraà pensar sobre les coses que més em fereixen. Pero en fi: ja entraré.

Al Bufó.

Entrem, noi; tu primer.

Ah, la pobresa sense sostre! Au, vinga, entra. Jo primer vull resar; ja dormiré després.

El Bufó entra a la cabana.

Pobres espellifats, on sigui que us trobeu, vosaltres que, mig nus, patiu l'assot d'aquest tempestejar despietat,

com podeu suportar, amb el cap descobert, els flancs sense aliment i els vestits foradats, maltempsades així? Ah, que pocs pensaments he tingut per vosaltres! Apren, luxe, d'aixo! Exposa't a sentir les penes dels més pobres, i a prescindir, per ells, de les coses superflues Així et podràs mostrar més just davant del Cel.

Lear al pobre Tom, que va nu

III iv

KING LEAR

Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.
Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou
owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep
no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on
's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
come unbutton here.

Tearing off his clothes

Més et valdria estar dins un sepulcre que no pas desafiant amb el cos nu les inclemències del cel. No és res més que aixo, l'home? Considera-ho millor. Al cuc, no li deus gens de seda, ni a l'animal gens de pell, ni llana a l'ovella, ni perfum al gat.Ha! Nosaltres tres sí que som adulterats ! Pero tu ... Tu ets l'ésser autentic: l'home en estat pur no és més que aixo un animal de dues cames, pobre i despullat, tal com tu ets. Fora, fora coses prestades! Veniu i descordeu-me.

Es treu e/s vestits i entra Gloucester amb una torxa.

Fool

Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night
to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were
like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the
rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.

BUFÓ

Si us plau, ancle, comporteu-vos. Aquesta és una mala nit per posar-se a nedar. Ara, una petita foguera en un camp solitari seria com el cor d'un vell llibertí: una pe­tita guspira i tota la resta del cos ben freda. Mireu: un foc que camina.

Gloucester, sense ulls, a caprici dels déus

IV i

GLOUCESTER

I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,
Our means secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I'ld say I had eyes again!

Ja no em queden camins, i en conseqüència, no necessito els ulls. Va ser quan els tenia que em vaig entrebancar. Quan tenim els mitjans, sovint ens tornem massa refiats; quan no en tenim, en canvi, en traiem avantatges. Edgard, estimat fill, amb tu va alimentar-se la ira del teu pare. Si només pogués viure per veure't amb el tacte, afirmaría que torno a tenir ulls un altre cop!

[...]

Old Man

Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER

He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man a worm: my son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard
more since.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.
They kill us for their sport.

Boig del tot no ho pot ser, perquè si ho fos, no podria captar. Al temporal d'ahir a la nit, vaig veure un home així, un home que em va fer pensar que un home és com un cuc: vaig pensar en el meu fill, tot i que aquell moment, el pensament no li era gens amic. Després he sabut més: com mosques a les mans de nens cruels som nosaltres pels déus, ens maten només per divertir-se.

[...]

'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone.

Cordèlia, i son pare vestit amb plantes

IV iv

CORDELIA

Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. A century send forth;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye.

Sí, és ell. No fa gaire l'han trobat enfollit com el mar enfurismat, cantant alt, coronat d'espines i d'herbotes, zizània, jull, ortigues i cicuta, i de totes aquelles males herbes que creixen entre el blat que ens alimenta. Que en surti una centúria que rastregi acre per acre tots aquests camps frondosos; que el portin davant meu.

Edgar, son pare a punt de llençar-se

IV vi

Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

Mireu senyor, ja hi som. Estigueu quiet. Fa por i vertigen mirar aquest cingle. Tant els corbs com les gralles que van volant per l'aire no semblen més que grossos escarabats. A mig camí n'hi ha un d'enfilat que cull fonoll marí, ofici perillós! No sembla pas tenir un volum més gros que un cap. Els pescadors que tresquen per la platja semblen com ratolins, i més enllà un vaixell que està ancorat es veu petit com una barca, i una barca es veu com una boia, quasi massa petita per copsar-la amb l'esguard. I el brogit de les ones, que xoquen contra tantes pedres innombrables, mogudes pel vaivé de l'aigua, no se sent, d'aquí dalt. No miro més, perquè el cervell no em rodi i amb la vista perduda, no caigui avall de cap.

Lear, boig

IV vi

EDGAR

Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?

Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers

 The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.

KING LEAR

 No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
king himself.

EDGAR

O thou side-piercing sight!

E: Qui és aquest? Una ment assenyada no adornaria mai així el seu amo.

L: No em poden acusar d'encunyar moneda, Sóc el rei en persona

E: Ah visió! Que fereixes els flancs.

KING LEAR

Nature's above art in that respect. There's your
press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a
crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look,
look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted
cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove
it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well
flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh!
Give the word.

En això la naturalesa és superior a l'art. Aquí tens el teu sou de soldat. Aquest homenot fa anar l'arc com si fos un nen de pagès. Estira'm l'arc fins a la llargada d'una fletxa. Mira, mira, una rata! Calleu, calleu, aquest tros de fromatge torrat farà el fet. Aquí teniu el guantellet. Desafio un gegant. Poreu les alabardes fosques. Has fet una bonica voleiada, ocellet! Ben tocat, ben tocat. Bé, sant i senya!

EDGAR

Sweet marjoram. (marduix dolç)

KING LEAR

Pass.

[...]

Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
Behold yond simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name;
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiends';
There's hell, there's darkness, there's the
sulphurous pit,
Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,
fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,
good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
there's money for thee.

Que forniqui tothom; el fill bastard de Gloucester va ser més amable amb el seu pare que les meves filles amb mi, engendrades en un llit legítim. Endavant luxúria, poti-poti, que em falten soldats. Mireu aquesta dama melindrosa: que amb la cara ja ens diu que, l'entrecuix el té fred com la neu, i aparent virtut, i aparta el cap quan sent que parlen de plaer. Però ni una barjaula ni un cavall fogós no ho fan amb unes ganes tan desenfrenades com les d'ella. De cintura en avall som com centaures, per més que siguin dones a la part de dalt. Del cap a la cintura pertanyen als déus, la part de baix és dels dimonis. Allà hi ha l'infern, tenebres, abisme sulkfurós, cremor i escaldament, pudor i consumpció. Ah, quin fàstic, quin fàstic, quin fàctic! Dóna'm una unça d'algàlia, bon apotecari; és per perfumar la meva imaginació. Aquí tens els diners.

Quan naixem, plorem de venir a aquest escenari de bojos

IV vi

KING LEAR

When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools: this a good block;
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof;
And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

En el moment de néixer, plorem d'haver vingut a aquest gran escenari de beneits. Quin barret més bonic que porto! Quin bon ardit de folrar de feltre tota una tropa de cavalleria. Ja h faré; i quan hagi arribat sense fer-me sentir fins als meus gendres, matar, m .

Lear, recuperat

IV, vii

KING LEAR

 Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
Of my condition!

D'on vinc? On soc? La bella llum del dia? Estic confús, moriria de pena si veiés algú altre en un estat sixí. No sé què dir. No podria jurar que aquestes mans són meves. A veure, aquesta agulla ... sento que em punxa [el test de la consciència]- Tant de bo pugués veure les coses clares.

CORDELIA

O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
No, sir, you must not kneel.

KING LEAR

Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Per favor, no te'n burlis, sóc un vell molt ximple i molt beneit, de més de vuitanta anys, ni una hora més ni menys, i per ser-vos sincer, em fa por que el meu seny no estigui bé del tot.

Lear, a Cordèlia, a la presó i cantar com els ocells

V iii

KING LEAR

No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.

No! Au vinga, anem a la presó. Cantarem tu i jo sols, com els ocells engabiats; quan em demanaràs que et beneeixi, jo m'agenollaré, demanant-te perdó. I així viurem i resarem i cantarem i ens contarem vells contes i ens riurem de les daurades papallones de la cort i escoltarem els pobres infeliços que ens duran noves del palau, i també hi parlarem: de qui guanya i qui perd, qui té els favors, qui els ha perdut i, com si fossim espies del déus, fingirem que entenem el misteri de tot. I així, dintre les quatre parets de la presó, sobreviurem a les conjures i als complots dels grans, dels que creixen i minven igual que les marees.

Strings of life

V iii

which in recounting
His grief grew puissant and the strings of life
Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded,
And there I left him tranced.

El cor

Lear mor de pena

V iii

KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there, look there!

Dies

Santander, agost 2006

Escòcia (es diu “l'obra escocesa”, i es parla que du associada mala sort). El rei Duncan, amb Macbeth i Banquo, en guerra amb els rebels. Les bruixes anuncien a Macbeth que serà baró i rei. El primer es compleix, però quan Duncan nomena successor alseu fill Malcom, creient que M tenia més mèrits, Lady M i M, decideixen per complir la profecia matant Duncan, i els criats a qui acusa. Assassina Banquo, qui més tard se li apareix com a fantasma. La nova predicció de les bruixes és que no serà derrotat fins que el bosc de Birnam avanci, i que no el podrà matar fill nascut de dona. En un regnat cada cop més basat en el terror, Macduff fuig a Anglaterra. Macbeth assassinarà la dona i el fill. Lady Macbeth, sonàmbula, veu sempre les mans tacades de sang, confessa al seu metge. Malcom i Macduff assetgen el castell, i els soldats avancen rera branques, Macduff, nascut de cessàrea, decapitarà Macbeth.

[És Macbeth una víctima del destí? Les seves bones qualitats no poden contrarestar l'ambició que fa néixer en ell la circumstància? Potser un atzar ens pot fer herois, i un atzar també ens pot fer assassins, desencadenant una inèrcia de la qual no podem escapar]

En la introducció de la versió de S.Oliva, diu que sovint s'afirma que Macbeth és una obra sobre l'ambició, però és més interessant si pensem que és una obra sobre el mal, ja que M, a diferència de Iago, per exemple, té consciència moral, té consciència que va caient endavant. Es poden interpretar les bruixes com la capacitat interior que porta cap al mal; si es tractés d'una causa externa aniria en contra de la idea cristiana que el mal és una opció lliure. A Hamlet vèiem un jove que, per naturalesa negat per a actuar, és impulsat per l'esperit del seu pare. Aquí tenim un guerrer, que poc a poc agafa consciència del poder interior que anomenem mal [una progressiva indiferència als altres, com el gangster de Brian de Palma i Pacino]. Harold Bloom esmenta Nietzsche i Freud en el sentit que som viscuts, pensats i moguts per forces que no són les nostres.

Notes de Kermode: l'obra es mou en un malson de dubte: matar o no matar, [viure el futur com a ja fet i donat considerant el present com a irrellevant]. L'escena sobre la que pivota el drama és la del porter que truca a la porta, marca l'abans [quan encara hi hauria marxa enrera] i el després, [en que Macbeth va caient endavant], i obre la idea central de l'obra que és l'equívoc -equivocation-, duen a error les prediccions de les bruixes, el futur, el llenguatge [com em fa pensar en allò que he escrit algunes vegades, el futur ens determina el present per tal com aquella idea llunyana, determina que fem ara, com una fita que ens sembla veure a l'horitzó, i pelcamí anem decidint en funció de l'experiència passada, després, quan ens trobem en un barranc fastigós, el que explica on hem anat a parat són els fantasmes de les il·lusions passades].

Kermode també assenyala que alguns mots, time, man, done, i alguns motius, blood, darkness, són les matrius fonamentals del llenguatge de Macbeth, i que és plausible imaginar que Shakespeare se'n va impregnar i les va desenvolupar deliberadament, potser amb més cura que la trama mateixa. La reiteració d'aquests motius no té res a veure amb la retòrica de les primeres obres, ens acostem als interessos més profunds de Shakespeare.

Esventrar del melic a la gola

I i

Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion carved out his passage
Till he faced the slave;
Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

i la Fortuna, somrient als seus damnats propòsits, se li va comportar com una puta.

Però no té importància, perquè Macbeth, valent (que és el nom que es mereix), menyspreant la Fortuna, brandant l'acer, que fumejava de la sang dels que havia matat, com el fill predilecte del valor, s'anava obrint el pas a cops d'espasa fins a trobar-se davant d'aquell brètol, i, sense saludar-lo ni prendre'n comiat, va descosir-lo del melic fins a la gola, i va penjar el seu cap sobre els merlets.

Anticipació del futur

I iii

 [Aside] Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.

Aside

Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings:
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

Si és res de sobrenatural no pot ser res de mal... ni res de bo.

Si és res de mal, per què em fa venir ganes de triomfar, pel fet que tot ha començat amb una veritat? Sóc el baró de Cawdor.

Si és res de bo, per què em lliuro a l'estímul d'una imatge terrible que em fa aixecar els cabells, i em fa bategar el cor a dintre el pit, contra l'instint que em surt de la naturalesa? Tots els temors presents són menys dolents que les terribles imaginacions. El pensament, amb una vaga fantasia d'assassinat, fa tremolar la meva naturalesa d'home: totes les accions es queden ofegades en meres conjectures, i res no és, llevat del que no és."

Eliminar obstacles

I iv

M:

[Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires:
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

[un graó on cauré, a menys que el salti]

Lady Macbeth crida el mal

I v

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry 'Hold, hold!'

[…]

O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under't.

Ja s'està quedant ronc el mateix corb que gralla per l'entrada fatal de Duncan sota els meus merlets. Veniu, esperits que animeu els pensaments de mort, arranqueu la tendresa del meu sexe; des del cap fins als peus, ompliu-me totalment de la més espantosa crueltat; espesseïu la meva sang; barreu l'accés i el pas a tot remordiment; que ni un alè de pietat em faci trontollar els meus fers propòsits, ni cap treva de pau es pugui interposar entre ells i els seus efectes! Veniu fins als meus pits de dona, i transformen la meva llet en fel, vosaltres, ministres de l'assassinat! Veniu del lloc des d'on les vostres invisibles substàncies serveixen la maldat de la naturalesa. Vine, nit densa, i embolcalla't amb el fum més negre de l'infern, perquè el meu esmolat punyal no pugui veure les ferides que farà, ni el cel pugui espiar-les entre els mantells nocturns, ni cridar: «Atura't! Atura't!»

[...]

Que mai no pugui veure el sol, aquest demà! Senyor, la teva cara és com un llibre on es poden llegir coses estranyes. Si vols enganyar els homes, mostra'ls aquell aspecte que ells esperen de tu; mostra la benvinguda als ulls, als llavis, a les mans; pren l'aire d'una flor innocent, però sigues la serp que hi ha al darrere.

El saldo final de cop, al futur

I vii

 If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly: if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other.

Si fer l’acció fos el final de tot seria millor fer-ho de pressa. Si aquest assassinat pogués deixar enxarxades totes les conseqüències i amb el seu desenllaç capturés l'èxit, de manera que només aquest cop ho fos tot i fos també la fi de tot , en aquest món (aquest sorral del temps entre dos mars) saltaríem contents a l'altra vida. Però en casos així, seguim sotmesos a la justícia d'aquest món, perquè no fem sinó donar lliçons de sang que, un cop donades, tornen per destruir el seu mestre. I aquesta equitativa mà de la justícia torna a portar les gotes del nostre calze emmetzinat als nostres propis llavis. El rei té dos motius per estar confiat: jo sóc el seu parent i sóc també el seu súbdit, i tots dos motius van fortament contra la meva acció. A més a més sóc l'hoste que l'acull, hauria de tancar la porta a l'assassí i no ser jo mateix el que agafi el punyal. A més a més, Duncan ha usat el seu poder amb tanta humilitat, i té les mans tan netes en l'exercici del poder, que les seves virtuts clamaran com angèliques trompetes contra cl crim infernal. La compassió, com un nadó tot nu cavalcant l'huracà o com els querubins del cel sobre els corsers invisibles de Faire, bufarà a tots els ulls l'horrible assassinat fins que les llàgrimes deixin negat el vent. Per punxar els flancs del meu intent, no tinc cap esperó llevat de l'ambició que, saltant a la sella, per excés d'embranzida em podria fer caure a l'altra banda del cavall.

Al cel fan estalvis

II i

BANQUO

Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!

Ja han apagat els llums

Malson de Macbeth

II i

 Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

Exit Servant

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes.

És un punyal això que tinc davant meu, amb el mànec cridant la meva mà? Vine, t’agafaré. No et tinc, i tanmateix, et veig. Fatal visió, no ets perceptible tant als ulls com al tacte? O ets potser un punyal de la ment, una creació falsa

nascuda d'un cervell oprimit per la febre? Encara et veig i sembles tan palpable com aquest que ara estic desembeinant. Ets tu que em guies pels camins que ja havia triat. i ets l'instrument que j o volia fer servir. Els ulls s'han convertit en la riota dels meus altres sentits, o potser valen més que to is ells. Z Encara et veig, i al mànec i a la fulla hi ha unes gotes de sang que abans no hi eren. No, no hi són pas: és el propòsit sanguinari que m'ho fa veure així. Ara, en una meitat del món, sembla que la naturalesa sigui morta, i somnis execrables enverinen el son darrera les cortines.

Macbeth no tornarà a dormir en pau

II ii

MACBETH

Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast,--

El son que va teixint la troca de l’angúnia, el son, la mort de cada dia, el bany del cansament llagat, el bàlsam de la ment ferida, el segon plat de la naturalesa, l’aliment principal del banquet de la vida.

LADY MACBETH

What do you mean?

MACBETH

Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'

[...]

MACBETH

Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

Mans que m’arrenquen els ulls

Catàleg d'homes

III i

First Murderer

We are men, my liege.

MACBETH

Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
All by the name of dogs: the valued file
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
Particular addition. from the bill
That writes them all alike: and so of men.

Sí, figureu com a tals al catàleg, com els llebrers, els petaners, els bracs, els gànguils, els mastins, els llops figuren com a gossos. Però una bona llista distingeix els astuts, els lents, els ràpids, els que guarden la casa, els caçadors, segons les qualitats que la naturalesa, pròdiga, els ha donat, i així tots han rebut el seu nom específic que s'ajunta al nom genèric, que és igual per tots.

M ja no pot tornar enrera

III iv

I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a one of them but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

I aniré a veure, de matí, les germanes del Fat. Parlaran més. Ara estic disposat a conèixer el pitjor i amb els mitjans pitjors. He de subordinar-ho tot al servei del meu bé. M'he posat tan a dintre d'aquest riu de sang, que, si ara m'aturo, em serà més difícil tornar endarrere que anar a l'altra riba. Tinc coses molt estranyes dintre el cap que van cap a les mans. I s'han d'executar abans d'examinar-les.

Les bruixes

IV i

Third Witch

 Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Pell de drac, ullal de llop carn de bruixa amb eixarop, budells de tauró voraç, cicuta collida al ras, fetge de jueu blasfem, fel de boc, teix que tallem quan la lluna fa l'eclipsi, nas de turc, llavis d'egipci, dit del fill d'una ramera que va néixer mort a l'era,feu aquest brou dens i espès, i, perquè no falti res, hi afegirem els budells d'un tigre i els seus cadells.

T: Crema, foc, i bull, barreja, que el perol ja bombolleja!

El bosc de Birnam

IV i

 Third Apparition

Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

V iv

MENTEITH

The wood of Birnam.

MALCOLM

Let every soldier hew him down a bough
And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host and make discovery
Err in report of us.

[...]

Messenger

As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.

MACBETH

Liar and slave!

Comprar marit al mercat

IV ii

LADY MACDUFF

Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son

Nay, how will you do for a husband?

LADY MACDUFF

Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son

Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

La vida, un conte explicat per un idiota

V v

MACBETH

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Tant de bo s'hagués mort més endavant; sempre hi ha temps per a un anunci com aquest. Demà i demà i demà, de dia en dia, avança miserablement, a petits passos, fins a l'última síl·laba dels registres del temps, on els nostres ahirs han mostrat als beneits el camí de la pols i de la mort. Apaga't, doncs, apaga't, flama breu! La vida no és res més que una ombra que camina, un pobre actor, que s'estarrufa i gasta la seva hora dalt de l'escenari, i després ja no se sent més: és un conte explicat per un idiota, ple de soroll i de fúria, que no vol dir res.

Madrid, octubre 2006

Després de la mort de Cèsar, Antoni governa Roma en triunvirat amb Octavi i Lèpid. Tenen l'oposició de Pompeu. Antoni s'enamora de Cleopatra, antiga amant de Cèsar -que no queda clar si el correspon o el manipula- Acusat de descuidar els afers de l'imperi, Antoni fa una aliança amb Pompeu i es proclamen àrbitres de les províncies orientals, amb capital a Alexandria. (Abans l'han fet casar amb la germana d'Octavi). S'enfronten a Octavi en batalla naval i, quan Cleopatra el deixa, és derrotat [busca Cleoplatra només debilitar l'imperi?]. Enobarbe, el lloctinent d'Antoni es passa a Octavi. Antoni és derrotat novament en batalla terrestre, sense suport dels egipcis, i acusa Cleopatra, que s'amaga enviant-li la notícia de la seva mort. Antoni se suïcida llançant-se sobre l'espasa, Cleopatra ho farà -apassionada finalment- amb una serp verinosa que s'amaga a una cistella de figues.

Com Lear, Macbeth o Othello, Antoni és un personatge gran [recordem el seu parlament a Juli Cèsar] que perd el control per una passió, no es redimeixx com Lear al final, sino que sucumbeix. Cleopatra és complexa passa de coqueteig [dona fatal] a adonar-se al final del seu amor per Antoni. El tema de la sexualitat com a força irresistible. Tensió entre l'ordre públic i la voluntat i passió individuals.

Kermode apunta al noi que deuria representar els papers de Lay Macbeth i Cleopatra, i potser també la Volumnia de Coriolà. En certa manera l'obra també canta el fonament cristià romà de la nostra civilització contraposada a l'oriental que hauria dominat si Antoni hagués guanyat i l'imperi s'hagués establert a Alexandria. Tema, els canvis i destins del món i els canvis i destins individuals

Constel·lacions de paraules: become, world (què decidirà el destí del món? laflaquesa d'Antoni, la sensualitat de Cleopatra?). Es contraposa, virtut, mesura, Roma, Octavi amb plaer, flaquessa, Egipte, Antoni.

A l'últim acte, extraordinari, veiem el llenguatge poètic excessiu que associem amb l'Est, contraposat a l'àtic.

Kermode diu que S salta d'un imatge metafòrica a un altre, sense espera ni desenvolupar-les, impacient per explorar tots els recursos del llenguatge.

El guerrer perdut per la passió

I i

PHILO

Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust.

Aquesta passió del nostre general depassa tota mesura: aquests ulls com d'un déu, que en les desfilades i fets de guerra han brillat com un Mart d'argent, ara es desvien, ara es giren, i l'ofici i devoció d'aquesta mirada és un rostre morè: el cor de capità, que en les escomeses de les grans lluites feia esclatar els llaços de la cuirassa, ha perdut tot temperament i s'ha tornat en el [fuelle] i ventall que han de refrescar la luxúria d'una gitana.

Antoni renega de Roma

I i

 MARK ANTONY

Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair

Embracing

And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet
We stand up peerless.

Que Roma es fongui al Tíber i que l'ample arcada de l'edifici de l'imperi s'enfonsi! Aquí hi ha el meu espai. Els regnes són d'argila: la nostra [abnada, fangosa] terra alimenta tant la bèstia com l'home: la noblesa de la vida és fer així; quan una parella com nosaltres (abraçant-se) poden fer-ho, i així ho estableixo, sota pena de càstig, que el món declari que som incomparables.

Anar a veure el poble d'incògnit

I i

MARK ANTONY

Fie, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admired!
No messenger, but thine; and all alone
To-night we'll wander through the streets and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it: speak not to us.

Vinga! Reina buscaraons! A qui cada cosa es torna, rondinar, riure, plorar; i que cada passió de les teves s'esforça per esdevenir, en tu, bella i admirada! No vull cap emissari, sinó a tu,i només a tu; aquesta nit ens perdrem pels carrers i observarem les qualitats de la gent. Vine, reina meva; ahir a la nit ho volies: no diguis res més.

La feblesa de la voluntat

I ii

Let him appear.
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
Or lose myself in dotage.

He de trencar aquestes fortes cordes egípcies, o perdre'm en la passió

La crítica de César

I iv

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say this
becomes him,--
As his composure must be rare indeed
Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony
No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him for't: but to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state and ours,--'tis to be chid
As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

Sou massa indulgent, us concedim que no sigui una falta revolcar-se al llit d'un Ptlomeu, donar un regne per una rialla, seure i esperar la ronda amb un esclau; fer tentines pels carrers a ple migdia, aguantar la brega amb brètols que fan pudor de suor: dir que s'ha convertit en això (i la seva natura hauria de ser ben rara que aquestes coses no la puguessin tacar) i amb tot, Antoni no pot excusar aquestes fetes, quan hem d'aguantar un pes tant feixuc per la seva lleugeresa. Si omplís el seu oci amb la seva voluptuositat, les indigestions, i els ossos assecats d'esgotament, ja li reclamarien comptes: però confrondre un temps així, que amb tambors el crida a retirar-se de l'entreteniment, i que parla tant fort com les seves propietats i les nostres, això demana ser censurat com renyem els nois, que, essent madurs quant a coneixement, tanquen la seva experiència per donar-se alplaer, i són rebels al seny.

Pompeu sobre Antoni esclau de Cleopatra

II i

POMPEY

He dreams: I know they are in Rome together,
Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
Even till a Lethe'd dulness!

Que tots els encants de l'amor, [picant, lúbrica, gustosa] Cleopatra, suavitzin el teu llavi marcit! Que la bruixeria s'uneixi a la bellesa, i la luxúria a totes dues! Lliga al llibertí en un camp de festes, tingues el seu cervell fumejant; que cuiners epicuris esmolin la seves ànsies amb salses delicioses; que el son i el menjar embriaguin el seu honor fins que caigui al letargi de Leteu.

Enorbarbus, sobre Cleopatra

II ii

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

I will tell you.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.

La galera on seia, com un tron brunyit, cremava en l'aigua:, la popa d'or batut, de porpra les veles, i tan perfumada, que els vents n'estaven enamorats; els rems eren d'or, i anaven al ritme d'una melodia d'unes flautes, i feien que l'aigua que batien anés més de pressa, com presa d'amor pels cops de rem. Quant a la seva pròpia persona, tota descripció seria pobra: jeia al seu pavelló, tot de tela d'or, i superava aquesta imatge de Venus que veiem, on la imaginació va més enllà que la natura: a cada banda hi tenia uns nois preciosos, somrient com Cupids, amb ventalls de diversos colors, que amb l'aire que feien semblaven fencendre les delicades galtes que refrescaven, i tornar a fer el que desfeien.

[...]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Never; he will not:
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

[mai no la voldrà abandonar]: l'edat no pot amb ella, ni l'hàbit esgotar la seva infinita varietat: altres dones sacien els desigs que alimenten: però ella fa venir encara més desig com més els satisfà, i com que fins i tot les coses més vils esdevenen alguna cosa en ella, els sants sacerdots la beneeixen quan conspira.

Cleopatra jugant amb Antoni

II v

CHARMIAN

'Twas merry when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

CLEOPATRA

That time,--O times!--
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan.

I com vam riure quan vau apostar a veure qui pescava més i el vostre capbussador li va enganxar un bacallà salat a l'ham, que va estirar amunt fervent!

Aquell temps ... quins temps! Me'n vaig riure fins a fer-li perdre la paciència; i aquella nit vaig riure fins a calmar-lo; i l'endemà al matí, abans de l'hora nona, el vaig fer beure fins que va caure al llit, i aleshores li vaig posar a sobre les meves túniques i mantells, mentre jo em posava la seva espasa de Filipos.

Malediccions de Cleopatra en saber que Antoni es casa

II v

(les serventes volen impedir que mati el missatger)

CLEOPATRA

Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again:
Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call.

Octavia

II vi

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

I think so too. But you shall find, the band that
seems to tie their friendship together will be the
very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a
holy, cold, and still conversation.

MENAS

Who would not have his wife so?

Cleopatra criticant Octavia

III ii

Messenger

Madam, in Rome;
I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

CLEOPATRA

Is she as tall as me?

Messenger

She is not, madam.

CLEOPATRA

Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?

Messenger

Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

CLEOPATRA

That's not so good: he cannot like her long.

CHARMIAN

Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

CLEOPATRA

I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Messenger

She creeps: (s'arrossega)
Her motion and her station are as one;
She shows a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.

[...]

CLEOPATRA

Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?

Messenger

Round even to faultiness.

CLEOPATRA

For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
Her hair, what colour?

Messenger

Brown, madam: and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

Cleopatra com a Isis

III vi

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

I' the common show-place, where they exercise.
His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings:
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia.
He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd
Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia: she
In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience,
As 'tis reported, so.

Ha donat l'imperi a una puta

III vi

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire
Up to a whore; who now are levying
The kings o' the earth for war; he hath assembled
Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont;
Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king
Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas,
The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
With a more larger list of sceptres.

El deshonor d'Antoni en deixar la batalla per seguir Cleopatra

III viii

SCARUS

She once being loof'd,
The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,
Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
I never saw an action of such shame;
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.

[dotng mallard un ocell esbojarrat]

[...]

III ix

MARK ANTONY

I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards
To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone;
I have myself resolved upon a course
Which has no need of you; be gone:
My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O,
I follow'd that I blush to look upon:
My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall
Have letters from me to some friends that will
Sweep your way for you.

[...]

CLEOPATRA

O my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have follow'd.

MARK ANTONY

Egypt, thou knew'st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
And thou shouldst tow [arrossegar] me after: o'er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
Thy beck [gest] might from the bidding of the gods
Command me.

CLEOPATRA

O, my pardon!

MARK ANTONY

Now I must
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge [fintar, equívoc]
And palter in the shifts of lowness; who
With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know
How much you were my conqueror; and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause.

CLEOPATRA

Pardon, pardon!

MARK ANTONY

Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
All that is won and lost: give me a kiss;
Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster;
Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead.
Some wine, within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
We scorn her most when most she offers blows.

Caiguda d'Antoni

III xi

CLEOPATRA

What shall we do, Enobarbus?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Think, and die.

[...]

MARK ANTONY

Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods and devils!
Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth,
And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
Antony yet.

[...]

MARK ANTONY

You have been a boggler ever:
But when we in our viciousness grow hard--
O misery on't!--the wise gods seel our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut
To our confusion.

Sempre has estat una “lianta”, però quan caiem en els nostres vicis -Oh misèria-, els savis déus ens posen una vena als ulls, en la nostra pròpia porqueria cauen els nostres judicis assenyats, ens fan adorar els nostres errors, riure'n mentre desfilem cap a la nostra confusió.

Maledicció de Cleopatra

III xi

CLEOPATRA

Not know me yet?

MARK ANTONY

Cold-hearted toward me?

CLEOPATRA

Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail [pedregada],
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Jeguin sense tomba fins que les mosques i mosquits del Nil els hagin enterrat com a presa

La fúria, el seny

III xi

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious,
Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still,
A diminution in our captain's brain
Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.

Ara anirà més enllà que el llamp. Estar furiós és estar espantat de la por; i en aquest estat, el colom picarà el falcó; i veig encara, la disminució en el cervell del nostre capità, li retorna el cor: quan el valor devora la rao, es menja alhora l'espasa amb què lluita. Buscaré alguna manera de deixar-lo.

Hércules abandona Antoni

IV iii

[Escena IV iii, interludi amb gent normal]

Third Soldier

'Tis a brave army,
And full of purpose.

Music of the hautboys as under the stage

Fourth Soldier

Peace! what noise?

First Soldier

List, list!

Second Soldier

Hark!

First Soldier

Music i' the air.

Third Soldier

Under the earth.

Cleopatra ajuda Antoni a posar-li la cuirassa

IV iv

MARK ANTONY

Eros! mine armour, Eros!

CLEOPATRA

Sleep a little.

MARK ANTONY

No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine armour, Eros!

Enter EROS with armour

Come good fellow, put mine iron on:
If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
Because we brave her: come.

CLEOPATRA

Nay, I'll help too.
What's this for?

MARK ANTONY

Ah, let be, let be! thou art
The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, this.

Sou l'armera del meu cor

CLEOPATRA

Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be.

MARK ANTONY

Well, well;
We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
Go put on thy defences.

Thrive = triomfar

EROS

Briefly, sir.

CLEOPATRA

Is not this buckled well?

MARK ANTONY

Rarely, rarely:
He that unbuckles this, till we do please
To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.
Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire
More tight at this than thou: dispatch. O love,
That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
The royal occupation! thou shouldst see
A workman in't.

Qui ho deslligui abans que ho vulguem fer-ho per reposar, es trobarà amb una tormenta.

El món de tres angles

IV vi

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight:
Our will is Antony be took alive;
Make it so known.

AGRIPPA

Caesar, I shall.

Exit

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

The time of universal peace is near:
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world
Shall bear the olive freely.

[quins són? Europa, àsia, àfrica?]

El cervell que alimenta els nervis

IV viii

[quins eren els coneixements de fisiologia nerviosa?]

MARK ANTONY

My nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroy'd in such a shape.

Tot i que alguns grisos es barregen una mica amb els altres nostres més joves [cabells], encara tenim un cervell que nodreix els nostres nervis i podem assolir el mateix que els joves.

Antoni, abandonat per la flota de Cleopatra

IV x

MARK ANTONY

All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe;

la meva flota ha cedit a l'enemic;

and yonder
They cast their caps up and carouse together
Like friends long lost.

I allà estan tots junts llençant les seves gorres amunt i confraternintzant com amics que fa temps que no es veuen

Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
For when I am revenged upon my charm,
I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.

Ordena'ls que se'n vagin tots; perquè quan m'hagi revenjat del que m'ha encantat, ja ho hauré fet tot

Exit SCARUS

O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all.

Els cors que com spaniels gossos em seguien als talons, als quals els vaig concedir el que desitjaven , es fonen i deixen caure la seva dolçor a César floreixent; i aquest pi que els sobrepassa li han tret l'escorça

Betray'd I am:
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,--
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;

Aquesta encisera fatal, el seu ull m'enviava a la guerra i també cridava la retirada
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,--

el pit de la qual era la meva corona, el meu fi principal
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros, Eros!

I que com a veritable gitana que és m'ha “engatusat” fins a la ruina total

Les formes dels núvols

IV xii

[recordo una idea semblant a Hamlet]

MARK ANTONY

Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen
these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants.

Són les mascarades del negre vespre

Antoni mor

IV xiii

MARK ANTONY

Peace!
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEOPATRA

So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

MARK ANTONY

I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay up thy lips.

Aquí només destorbo la mort un moment, fins que dels molts milers de petons, el pobre últim pugui deixar sobre els teus llavis.

Cleopatra, resolta a morir

IV xiii

CLEOPATRA

No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares. It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is scottish, and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
To rush into the secret house of death,
Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women?
What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian!
My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look,
Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart:
We'll bury him; and then, what's brave,
what's noble,
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
And make death proud to take us. Come, away:
This case of that huge spirit now is cold:
Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend
But resolution, and the briefest end.

Ja no més [una reina] i dominada per una passió tan pobra com la de la noia que muny les vaques i fa les feines més baixes. Si fos per mi de llençar el meu ceptre als déus insultants; i dir-lo que aquest món igualava el seu fins que ens han robat la nostra joia. Però ja res no val, la paciència és ximpleria i la impaciència un gos rabiós: aleshores, és pecat afanyar-se cap a la casa secreta de la mort, abans que la mort gosi venir a nosaltres?

César sobre la mort d'Antoni

V i

OCTAVIUS CAESAR

The breaking of so great a thing should make
A greater crack: the round world
Should have shook lions into civil streets,
And citizens to their dens: the death of Antony
Is not a single doom; in the name lay
A moiety of the world.

[en aquest nom hi havia la meitat del món]

Cleopatra vol morir, una reina val per ...

V ii

CLEOPATRA

Where art thou, death?
Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
Worthy many babes and beggars!

La o

V ii

CLEOPATRA

His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck
A sun and moon, which kept their course,
and lighted
The little O, the earth.

El seu rostre era com els cels, i en ella hi havia un sol i una lluna, que seguien el seu curs, i il·luminaven aquesta petita O, la terra.

Cleopatra no vol ser exhibida

V ii

Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown
In Rome, as well as I mechanic slaves
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded,
And forced to drink their vapour.

IRAS

The gods forbid!

CLEOPATRA

Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors
Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers
Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians
Extemporally will stage us, and present
Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
I' the posture of a whore.

I ara, Iras, que en penses? Tu una nina egípcia, seràs exhibida a Roma, així com jo, esclaus mecànics amb davantals greixosos, regles i martells, es posaran de puntetes per veure'ns; i en els seus alès espessos, pudents de la seva grollera dieta, en serem envoltades i forçades a beure'n el vapor.

Lictors descarats ens agafaran, com a putes, i versaires miserables faran balades desafinades sobre nosaltres: els aguts comedians ens representaran a l'escenari, i presentaran les nostres festes d'Alexandria; Antoni serà mostrat com un borratxo i veurem com un noi de veu de pito fa de Cleopatra i dóna a la meva grandesa la postura d'una puta.

Mort de Cleopatra

V ii

Methinks I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.

Solius, novembre 2006

Obra sobre el poder, el poble i l'aristocràcia i sobre el caràcter. A Roma els ciutadans estan descontents, i Menecius, un aristòcrata, intenta reconduir-los. Caius Martius, militar excel·lent, els menysprea. Aconsegueix un victòria a Coriolis contra els volscos i passa a ser anomenat el Coriolà. El senat li reconeix el mèrit i li promet un consulat només que accedeixi a demanar suport a les “veus” [voices] dels ciutadans. Ho fa de mala manera, ja que els menysprea. Sinicius i Brutus, els tribuns del poble, agiten la massa. Coriolà reacciona contra el poble i al final és desterrat. El soldat se'n va a Ancio i al cabdill desl volscos li diu que el prengui com a general o que el mati. De victòria en victòria posa setge a Roma. Li demanen clemència i només accedeix quan la seva mare (qui l'ha convertit en el que és) i la seva dona, li supliquen. Signa un tractat i se'n torna a Ancio. Aufidi, que ja fa temps que està gelós dels seus èxits l'acusa de traïció i els seus homes el maten.

Coriolà és un militar que es considera invencible i no ha de retre comptes a ningú, (de petit trossejava papallones amb la boca, diu la seva mare), per a ell només compta el seu codi d'honor [no sap què fer-ne d'ell mateix quan perd el seu lloc, i per això se'n va a Ancio]. Home brillant que acaba essent esclau de la seva pròpia virtut, el geni militar que el fa incapaç de parlamentar, o de posar-se d'acord. És com és, en part per tal com Volumnia,la seva mare, l'ha pujat [en certa manera també és una obra sobre l'educació]. Quan refusa d'aniquilar Roma entra en conflicte la fidelitat a l'honor antic, i al nou dels Volscos, i desapareix l'antic Coriolà.

Kermode, obra profundament política, el conflicte entre el poble i els representants d'una banda, i els patricis de l'altra. Caius Martius, un gran guerrer que creu que el mèrit personal es mesura per les ferides en la batalla. No ha de retre comptes al populatxo [no és així com es deu sentir algun home de negocis, patricis actuals, si és que n'hi ha encara?]. Paralelismes amb l'anglaterra de de 1607: “the meanest sort of people have presumed lately to assembla themselves riotously in multitudes”. L'Earl of Essex hauria pogut ésser un model de Coriolà.

Kermode fa notar que hi ha passatges obscurs, difícils sinó impossibles d'entendre, que els actors diuen com si els entenguessin. L'obscuritat és un recurs més, i aquesta és una característica dels Shakespeare madur, un canvi que es dóna després de Juli César. L'obscuritat, el balbuceig, la confusió revelen l'estat del personatge [més que no pas si aquest digués explícitament, “estic confús”]. Això vol dir també que el públic és un oient expert.

Coriolà és una obra molt acuradamen planificada. Obertura que presenta el conflicte entre el poble i la classe dirigent. El cèlebre discurs de Menenius comparant la societat amb les parts del cos.

“Voice”: l'obra es construeix al voltant d'aquest terme, veu, com a equivalent del vot o voluntat popular. Es jugarà amb “veu”, “llengua”, etc. C no accepta que les seves ferides hagin de ser visitades per l'alèdeles veus plebees. I tanmateix aquestes veus són la polis real.

La tercera escena introdueix les dones de l'alta societat i s'investga l'origen de la intransigència de Coriolà.

S fa coincidir el moment en que Caius Martius rep un nou nom “Coriolà” amb el moment en què aquest oblida el nom del soldat a qui volia recompensar un favor; la importància del “nom”.

[Que es planteja, si som el que som pel que ens atorguen les altres “veus”, si pel “nom” que tenim i que només depèn de nosaltres ..]. Quan C s'enfronta de nou a la seva mare, pensa si és “as if a man were author of himself, and knew no other kin. Però no pot suportar no tenir una base, un títol, un nom heretat.

Després de tot el recorregut de l'obra, els elogis que en fa Aufidi al funeral, els “noms” i adjectius que li dóna, ja no enalteixen sonen estranys, buits.

El cos

I i

 MENENIUS

There was a time when all the body's members
Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answer'd--

First Citizen

Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

MENENIUS

Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus--
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak--it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.

First Citizen

Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they--

MENENIUS

What then?
'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?

First Citizen

Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,--

MENENIUS

Well, what then?

 First Citizen

The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?

MENENIUS

I will tell you
If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.

First Citizen

Ye're long about it.

MENENIUS

Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
'That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the store-house and the shop
Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live: and though that all at once,
You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,--

 First Citizen

Ay, sir; well, well.

 MENENIUS

'Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't?

 First Citizen

It was an answer: how apply you this?

 MENENIUS

The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members; for examine
Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find
No public benefit which you receive
But it proceeds or comes from them to you
And no way from yourselves. What do you think,
You, the great toe of this assembly?

 First Citizen

I the great toe! why the great toe?

 MENENIUS

For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs:
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
The one side must have bale.

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS

Hail, noble Marcius!

 MARCIUS

Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?

 First Citizen

We have ever your good word.

 MARCIUS

He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
And curse that justice did it.
Who deserves greatness
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?

A complementar amb Plató i la república i el chiste sobre les parts del cos que volien ser el cap i al final va manar el forat del cul

El noi que matava les papallones

I iii

 VOLUMNIA

I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
he would show most love. When yet he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
how honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
man.

[...]

 VALERIA

O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a
very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o'
Wednesday half an hour together: has such a
confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
again; and after it again; and over and over he
comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his
fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked
it!

L'honor de la sang

I, v

 LARTIUS

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.

 MARCIUS

Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.

Martius el Coriolà oblida el nom de qui el va ajudar

I, ix

 CORIOLANUS

I sometime lay here in Corioli
At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was with in my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.

 COMINIUS

O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.

 LARTIUS

Marcius, his name?

 CORIOLANUS

By Jupiter! forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?

Girar la mirada cap a dins

II i

 MENENIUS

Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience:
give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at
your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a
pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for
being proud?

 BRUTUS

We do it not alone, sir.

 MENENIUS

I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous
single: your abilities are too infant-like for
doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you
could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks,
and make but an interior survey of your good selves!
O that you could!

 BRUTUS

What then, sir?

 MENENIUS

Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting,
proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as
any in Rome.

L'obligació d'atendre les veus del poble

II, i

MENENIUS

The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.

CORIOLANUS

I do owe them still
My life and services.

MENENIUS

It then remains
That you do speak to the people.

CORIOLANUS

I do beseech you,
Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them,
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you
That I may pass this doing.

SICINIUS

Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.

MENENIUS

Put them not to't:
Pray you, go fit you to the custom and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.

CORIOLANUS

It is apart
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.

BRUTUS

Mark you that?

CORIOLANUS

To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only!

Voices

II iii

 First Citizen

Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

Second Citizen

We may, sir, if we will.

 Third Citizen

We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a
power that we have no power to do; for if he show us
his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our
tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if
he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him
our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is
monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
were to make a monster of the multitude: of the
which we being members, should bring ourselves to be
monstrous members.

[...]

 Third Citizen

Are you all resolved to give your voices? But
that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I
say, if he would incline to the people, there was
never a worthier man.

Love common people

II iii

 CORIOLANUS

Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?

 First Citizen

The price is to ask it kindly.

 CORIOLANUS

Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to
show you, which shall be yours in private. Your
good voice, sir; what say you?

 Second Citizen

You shall ha' it, worthy sir.

 CORIOLANUS

A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices
begged. I have your alms: adieu.

 Third Citizen

But this is something odd.

 Second Citizen

An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.

Exeunt the three Citizens

Re-enter two other Citizens

 CORIOLANUS

Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
voices that I may be consul, I have here the
customary gown.

 Fourth Citizen

You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
have not deserved nobly.

 CORIOLANUS

Your enigma?

 Fourth Citizen

You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have
been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved
the common people.

[...]

Re-enter three Citizens more

Here come more voices.
Your voices: for your voices I have fought;
Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear
Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six
I have seen and heard of; for your voices have
Done many things, some less, some more your voices:
Indeed I would be consul.

The tongues of common mouth

III i

 CORIOLANUS

I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.

Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS

Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.

The people are the city

III i

 SICINIUS

You are at point to lose your liberties:
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
Whom late you have named for consul.

 MENENIUS

Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.

 First Senator

To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.

 SICINIUS

What is the city but the people?

 Citizens

True,
The people are the city.

 BRUTUS

By the consent of all, we were establish'd
The people's magistrates.

 Citizens

You so remain.

 MENENIUS

And so are like to do.

 COMINIUS

That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.

 SICINIUS

This deserves death.

 BRUTUS

Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.

 SICINIUS

Therefore lay hold of him;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.

[...]

 MENENIUS

His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.

[...]

L'Orgull de Coriolà

III i

 CORIOLANUS

I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.

Enter VOLUMNIA

I talk of you:
Why did you wish me milder? would you have me
False to my nature? Rather say I play
The man I am.

[...]

 CORIOLANUS

Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?
Must I with base tongue give my noble heart
A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't:
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it
And throw't against the wind. To the market-place!
You have put me now to such a part which never
I shall discharge to the life.

Catalogue of voices

III 3

 SICINIUS

Have you a catalogue
Of all the voices that we have procured
Set down by the poll?

 AEdile

I have; 'tis ready.

 SICINIUS

Have you collected them by tribes?

 AEdile

I have.

 SICINIUS

Assemble presently the people hither;
And when they bear me say 'It shall be so
I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either
For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them
If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.'
Insisting on the old prerogative
And power i' the truth o' the cause.

[...]

 CORIOLANUS

I know no further:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor cheque my courage for what they can give,
To have't with saying 'Good morrow.'

[...]

 BRUTUS

There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
As enemy to the people and his country:
It shall be so.

 Citizens

It shall be so, it shall be so.

 CORIOLANUS

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders; till at length
Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
Making not reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you as most
Abated captives to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising,
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere.

La massa, la bèstia de molts caps

IV i

CORIOLANUS

Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast
With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage?

A man author of himself

V iii

 CORIOLANUS

This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
Loved me above the measure of a father;
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge
Was to send him; for whose old love I have,
Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd
The first conditions, which they did refuse
And cannot now accept; to grace him only
That thought he could do more, a very little
I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits,
Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this?

Shout within

Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.

Enter in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection!
All bond and privilege of nature, break!
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows;
As if Olympus to a molehill should
In supplication nod: and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces
Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand,
As if a man were author of himself
And knew no other kin.