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William Shakespeare
(...)
Spread
thy close curtain, love-performing night;
That run-aways' eyes may
wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalked of, and
unseen!---
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their
own beauties: or if love be blind,
It best agrees with
night.--Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in
black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a
pair of stainless maidenhoods:
Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my
cheeks,
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown
bold,
Thinks true love acted, simple modesty.
Come
night!--Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie
upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow on a raven's
back.---
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd
night,
Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,
Take him and
cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven
so fine,
That all the world shall be in love with night,
And
pay no worship to the garish sun.---
O, I have bought the mansion
of a love,
But not possess'd it; and though I am sold,
Not yet
enjoy'd: so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some
festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may
not wear them.
(...)
(Romeo and
Juliet)
***
(…)
Time
hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for
Oblivion;
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps
are good deeds past,
Which are devour'd as fast as they are
made,
Forgot as soon as done: Persev'rance, dear my lord,
Keeps
Honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like
a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For
Honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast;
keep then the path,
For Emulation hath a thousand sons,
That
one by one pursue; if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct
forth-right,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And
leave you hindmost;--
Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first
rank,
O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present,
Tho'
less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:
For Time is like a
fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by th'
hand,
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps
in the comer: the Welcome ever smiles,
And Farewell goes out
sighing. O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in
service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious
and calumniating time:
One touch of nature makes the whole world
kin,
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gauds,
Tho'
they are made and moulded of things past.
The present eye praises
the present object.
Then marvel not, thou great and complete
man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in
motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went out
on thee,
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou
would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy
tent.--
(...)
(Troilus and Cressida)
***
Shakespeare es traducido por:
- Ibon Zubiaur
Publicado
el 20/5/2010
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