This complete, line-by-line Macbeth translation makes the language of Shakespeare's play more modern while preserving the metrical rhythm, complexity, and.
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- Macbeth : A Verse Translation
- Top Authors
- Macbeth: A Verse Translation - Google Книги
- Bestselling Series
This complete, line-by-line translation of Macbeth makes the language of Shakespeare's play contemporary without modernizing the play in any other way. Despite the rich, poetic dialogue, theatergoers in Shakespeare's time did not need scene summaries to follow the plot or footnotes to interpret vocabulary. Since Shakespeare's characters tell us rather than show us what they are thinking, the audience needed actors who spoke loudly, clearly, and quickly enough to finish the play in a few hours.
Today we struggle no matter how clearly or slowly the actors speak, and reading too often is more like deciphering.
Kent Richmond's translation increases your comprehension yet has the feel of authentic Shakespeare. It preserves the rhythm and pacing of the original as much as possible and has the same sentence complexity and vocabulary range. You will soon forget that you are reading a translation.
Explore this tale of ruthless ambition with the challenge, comprehension, and delight of audiences years ago—the way Shakespeare intended. Buy the Paperback at Amazon.
Macbeth : A Verse Translation
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The History of King Lear: The Taming of the Shrew William Shakespeare. Political Shakespeare Alan Sinfield. Other books in this series. Julius Caesar William Shakespeare. Book ratings by Goodreads. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms and every thing beside. I am for the air; this night I'll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end: Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I'll catch it ere it come to ground: And that distill'd by magic sleights Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion: He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
Music and a song within: The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth: And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, For Fleance fled: Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? How it did grieve Macbeth! Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: Lord The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth Lives in the English court, and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect: That, by the help of these--with Him above To ratify the work--we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage and receive free honours: All which we pine for now: Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed!
Lord I'll send my prayers with him. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Enter the three Witches First Witch Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. Second Witch Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Third Witch Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.
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First Witch Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.
ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Second Witch Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. 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.
Second Witch Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good. ROSS You must have patience, madam.
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His flight was madness: He loves us not; He wants the natural touch: All is the fear and nothing is the love; As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move. I take my leave of you: Shall not be long but I'll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before.
My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you! I take my leave at once. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
Macbeth: A Verse Translation - Google Книги
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb To appease an angry god. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so.
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Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot. I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands: But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours: We have willing dames enough: And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.
Of your mere own: Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. I am as I have spoken. No, not to live.