Oryginał Stanisław Barańczak

HAMLET HAMLET
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Być albo nie być - oto jest pytanie.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer Kto postępuje godniej: ten, kto biernie
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Stoi pod gradem zajadłych strzał losu,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, Czy ten, kto stawia opór morzu nieszczęść
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; I w walce kładzie im kres? Umrzeć - usnąć -
No more; and by a sleep to say we end I nic poza tym - i przyjąć, że sen
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks Uśmierza boleść serca i tysiące
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Tych wstrząsów, które dostają się ciału
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; W spadku natury. O tak, taki koniec
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; Byłby czymś upragnionym. Umrzeć - usnąć -
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come Spać - i śnić może? Ha, tu się pojawia
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Przeszkoda: jakie mogą nas nawiedzić
Must give us pause: there's the respect Sny w drzemce śmierci, gdy ścichnie za nami
That makes calamity of so long life; Doczesny zamęt? Niepewni, wolimy
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Wstrzymać się chwilę. I z tych chwil urasta
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, Długie, potulnie przecierpiane życie.
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, Bo gdyby nie ten wzgląd, któż by chciał znosić
The insolence of office and the spurns To, czym nas chłoszcze i znieważa czas:
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, Gwałty ciemiężców, nadętość pyszałków,
When he himself might his quietus make Męki wzgardzonych uczuć, opieszałość
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, Prawa, bezczelność władzy i kopniaki,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, Którymi byle zero upokarza
But that the dread of something after death, Cierpliwą wartość? Któż by się z tym godził,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn Gdyby był w stanie przekreślić rachunki
No traveller returns, puzzles the will Nagim sztyletem? Kto by dźwigał brzemię
And makes us rather bear those ills we have Życia, stękając i spływając potem,
Than fly to others that we know not of? Gdyby nam woli nie zbijała z tropu
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Obawa przed tym, co będzie po śmierci,
And thus the native hue of resolution Przed nieobecną w atlasach krainą,
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, Skąd żaden jeszcze odkrywca nie wrócił,
And enterprises of great pith and moment I gdyby lęk ten nie kazał nam raczej
With this regard their currents turn awry, Znosić zło znane niż rzucać się w nowe?
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! Tak to świadomość czyni nas tchórzami
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons I naturalne rumieńce porywu
Be all my sins remember'd. Namysł rozcieńcza w chorobliwą bladość,
A naszym ważkim i szczytnym zamiarom
Refleksja plącze szyki, zanim któryś
Zdąży przerodzić się w czyn. - Ale cicho,
Piękna Ofelia! - Nimfo, w swoich modłach
Wspomnij koniecznie każdy z moich grzechów.

William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, in 1564. Very little is known about his life, but by
1592 he was in London working as an actor and a dramatist. Between about 1590 and 1613, Shakespeare wrote at least 37
plays and collaborated on several more. Many of these plays were very successful both at court and in the public
playhouses. In 1613, Shakespeare retired from the theatre and returned to Stratford-upon-Avon. He died and was
buriedthere in 1616.
Macbeth

First Apparition Descends

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff; MACBETH

Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
That will never be
Descends Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
MACBETH Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
word more,-- Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
First Witch Reign in this kingdom?

He will not be commanded: here's another, ALL

More potent than the first.
Seek to know no more.
Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child
MACBETH
Second Apparition
I will be satisfied: deny me this,
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
MACBETH
Hautboys
Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.
First Witch
Second Apparition
Show!
Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born Second Witch
Shall harm Macbeth.
Show!
Descends
Third Witch
MACBETH
Show!
Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
ALL
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
Come like shadows, so depart!
And sleep in spite of thunder.

A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand;

Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in GHOST OF BANQUO following
his hand
MACBETH
What is this
That rises like the issue of a king, Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
And wears upon his baby-brow the round Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
And top of sovereignty? Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
ALL
Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
Listen, but speak not to't. And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
Which shows me many more; and some I see
Third Apparition That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
And points at them for his.
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Apparitions vanish
Shall come against him.

What, is this so?

Act V
First Witch
Macbeth
Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
She should have died hereafter; Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
There would have been a time for such a word. Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, And show the best of our delights:
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools While you perform your antic round:
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! That this great king may kindly say,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player Our duties did his welcome pay.
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
MACBETH

Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
Come in, withoutthere!

ACT I REGAN

SCENE I. King Lear's palace. Sir, I am made

Of the self-same metal that my sister is,
Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
KENT Only she comes too short: that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
Albany than Cornwall. And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.
GLOUCESTER
CORDELIA
It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
division of the kingdom, it appears not which of [Aside] Then poor Cordelia!
the dukes he values most; for equalities are so And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice More richer than my tongue.
of either's moiety.
KING LEAR
KENT To thee and thine hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
Is not this your son, my lord? No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy,
GLOUCESTER
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw
so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
brazed to it.
CORDELIA
KENT
Nothing, my lord.
I cannot conceive you.
KING LEAR
GLOUCESTER
Nothing!
Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
CORDELIA
for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
Do you smell a fault? Nothing.

KENT KING LEAR

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.
being so proper.
CORDELIA
GLOUCESTER
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: According to my bond; nor more nor less.
though this knave came something saucily into the
world before he was sent for, yet was his mother KING LEAR
fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little,
noble gentleman, Edmund? Lest it may mar your fortunes.

EDMUND CORDELIA

No, my lord. Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
GLOUCESTER Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
honourable friend. They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
EDMUND
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
My services to your lordship.
To love my father all.
KENT
KING LEAR
I must love you, and sue to know you better.
But goes thy heart with this?
EDMUND
CORDELIA
Sir, I shall study deserving.
Ay, good my lord.
GLOUCESTER
KING LEAR
He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
again. The king is coming. So young, and so untender?

Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, CORDELIA

REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants
So young, my lord, and true.
KING LEAR
KING LEAR
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.
Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
GLOUCESTER
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
I shall, my liege. By all the operation of the orbs
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
KING LEAR And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. Or he that makes his generation messes
Give me the map there. Know that we have divided To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,
To shake all cares and business from our age; As thou my sometime daughter.
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd. 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.

LEAR

Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,

With shadowy forests and with champainsrich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
 We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

(from As You Like It, spoken by Jaques)

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

Sonnet 138

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.

Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Sonnet 130
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.