The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1141 page)

To mourn for me, since mourning favors your looks,

And it would suit you as well to pity me with every other part of you.

Then I will swear that beauty herself is black,

And everyone who does not have your complexion is ugly.

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!

Is't not enough to torture me alone,

But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?

Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,

And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:

Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;

A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd.

Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,

But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;

Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;

Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol:

And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,

Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

Curse you for causing my heart to groan

And for the deep wound you give to both my friend and me!

Isn’t it enough to torture me alone,

Why should my friend also be brought into slavery to you?

Your cruel eye has taken me away from myself,

And my friend, who is like my second self, has fallen even harder:

By him, myself, and you, I’ve been abandoned;

Making a torment threefold unfold three times by being so deceived.

Imprison my heart in the steel cell of your bosom,

And let my poor heart serve as bail for my friend;

Whoever keeps an eye on me, let my heart be his guard;

That way you won’t be able to be harsh in my jail:

And still, you will be, because I, being shut up inside you,

Of necessity am yours, and all that is in me is also yours.

So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,

And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,

Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine

Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:

But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,

For thou art covetous and he is kind;

He learn'd but surety-like to write for me

Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.

The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,

Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,

And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;

So him I lose through my unkind abuse.

Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:

He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

So, now that I have confessed that he is yours,

And that I, myself, am mortgaged to your will,

I will give up myself if you give up my friend,

And return him to me so that he will still be my comfort:

But you will not, and he doesn’t want to be set free,

Because you are possessive and he is kind;

He was wise and was backing me up with his name

And now that bond binds him just as firmly.

You will use the bond of your beauty to secure us,

You lender, that puts forth all to use,

And sues a friend who became a debtor for my sake;

So I have lost him through my unkind abuse.

I have lost him, and you have both him and me:

He pays for all of it, and still I am not free.

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'

And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus;

More than enough am I that vex thee still,

To thy sweet will making addition thus.

Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,

Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?

Shall will in others seem right gracious,

And in my will no fair acceptance shine?

The sea all water, yet receives rain still

And in abundance addeth to his store;

So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will'

One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.

Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;

Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'

While other women have their desire, you have your ‘Will,’

And ‘Will,’ to boot, and ‘Will’ in excess;

I am more than enough to trouble you still,

And I will be adding another sweet thing to it all.

Will you, whose lust is large and spacious,

Not even allow me to hide my will in you just once?

Will the will of others seem true and good,

And on my will you will not even shine acceptance?

The sea is full of water, and yet it still receives rain,

And adds the abundance to its store;

And so you, being rich in ‘Will,’ can add to your ‘Will’

My own will, to make your large ‘Will’ even larger.

Don’t kill a courteous suitor by being unkind;

Think of all of us as one, and accept me as one ‘Will.’

If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near,

Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,'

And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;

Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.

'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,

Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.

In things of great receipt with ease we prove

Among a number one is reckon'd none:

Then in the number let me pass untold,

Though in thy stores' account I one must be;

For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold

That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:

Make but my name thy love, and love that still,

And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'

If your soul stops you because I come so near,

Promise your blind soul that I am your ‘Will,’

And will, or lust, as your soul knows, is admitted there.

So far, for love, my wooing is sweetly fulfilled,

‘Will’ will satisfy the treasure of your love,

Yes, and it will fill it with will, and my will is only one.

In things that can hold a lot easily,

Then one of anything is the same as none:

So, in the numbers you know, let me pass uncounted,

Even though in the record of your holding, I must be one;

Hold me for nothing, and may it please you to hold

The nothing that is me, a something sweet to you:

Make my name your love, and love it still,

And then you will love me, because my name is ‘Will.’

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,

That they behold, and see not what they see?

They know what beauty is, see where it lies,

Yet what the best is take the worst to be.

If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks

Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,

Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,

Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?

Why should my heart think that a several plot

Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?

Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,

To put fair truth upon so foul a face?

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,

And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.

Love, you blind fool, what are you doing to my eyes,

That they look at something and don’t see what it is they see?

They know what beauty is and can see where it lies,

And yet they see the best when they are looking at the worst.

If my eyes distort things by seeing them with too much bias,

And are fixed in the common bay where all men ride,

Why have you used my eye’s inaccurate vision as a hook

To catch the favorable opinion of my heart?

Why should my heart think that it has a separate place with her

When it knows that she belongs to the wide world as common?

Why do my eyes, when seeing this, say it is not so

And put a fair appearance upon such an ugly face?

My heart and eyes have made mistakes regarding the truth here

And now they are both caught up in this false illness.