My lord, you have my voice to ’t. The fault’s
Bloody. ’Tis necessary he should die.
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
My lord, you have my vote. The crime is heinous. It is necessary he should die. Nothing encourages sin more than mercy.
You have my vote. This crime is serious. He deserves death. Nothing makes people do worse things than showing mercy.
death is necessary crime is heinous
mercy encourages sin
Most true, the law shall bruise ’em.
Absolutely true. The law will punish them harshly.
Right. The law will come down hard.
law shall bruise them
Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!
Greetings, health, and mercy to the Senate.
Health and respect to you all.
honor and compassion
Now, captain?
Well, captain?
Yes, captain?
what is it?
I am a humble suitor to your virtues,
For pity is the virtue of the law,
And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood
Hath stepped into the law, which is past depth
To those that without heed do plunge into’t.
He is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues,
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice—
An honour in him which buys out his fault—
But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touched to death,
He did oppose his foe;
And with such sober and unnoted passion
He did behave his anger, ere ’twas spent,
As if he had but proved an argument.
I humbly appeal to your wisdom. Mercy is the virtue of the law, and only tyrants use it as cruelty. Fortune has weighed heavily on a friend of mine, who in hot passion crossed into the law — which is too deep for those who jump in thoughtlessly. He is, aside from fate, a man of fine qualities. He did not shame himself with cowardice when he acted — an honor that redeems his fault. With noble passion and clear judgment, when his reputation was under attack, he opposed his enemy. With such controlled and measured anger, he expressed his feelings as if discussing philosophy.
I'm asking you to be merciful. Mercy is what the law should do, and only tyrants twist it into cruelty. My friend got caught in a moment of passion — he went too far, stepped into something dangerous. But he's a decent man. He didn't act like a coward — there's honor in how he defended himself. He used clear judgment even when he was furious, when his reputation was at stake. He fought back, but in a calm, thoughtful way.
friend in hot blood stepped into law a man of virtue
defended his honor fought with judgment not cowardice
You undergo too strict a paradox,
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
Your words have took such pains as if they laboured
To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour, which indeed
Is valour misbegot and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born.
He’s truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides to wear them like his raiment, carelessly,
And ne’er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill,
What folly ’tis to hazard life for ill!
You argue too cleverly, trying to make an ugly deed look beautiful. Your words strain to frame manslaughter as valor — but it is false valor, born when factions first emerged. True valor is the ability to endure wrongs without complaint, wearing them like ordinary clothes, never letting injury touch the heart. If wrongs force us to kill, how foolish to risk life for it.
You're being too clever, trying to make a bad thing look good. You're arguing that killing is brave — but it's not real bravery, it's just reaction. Real courage is enduring wrongs silently, wearing them like everyday clothes, never letting yourself be hurt by them. If wrongs make us kill, isn't it stupid to risk death for it?
ugly deed cannot look fair
true valor is endurance not killing
My lord—
My lord—
My lord—
my lord
You cannot make gross sins look clear.
To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
You cannot hide great sins. Revenge is not valor — endurance is.
You can't make crimes look innocent. Real courage is bearing it, not getting revenge.
cannot make sin clear revenge not valor bearing is
My lords, then, under favour, pardon me
If I speak like a captain.
Why do fond men expose themselves to battle
And not endure all threats? Sleep upon’t,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats
Without repugnancy? If there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad? Why, then, women are more valiant
That stay at home, if bearing carry it,
And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon
Loaden with irons wiser than the judge,
If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
As you are great, be pitifully good.
Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust,
But in defence, by mercy, ’tis most just.
To be in anger is impiety,
But who is man that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.
My lords, with your permission, I speak like a soldier. Why do men fight in war if they should not defend against threats? Should they sleep and let enemies cut their throats? If endurance is true valor, why do we fight abroad? Then women would be more brave than men, and a prisoner more wise than a judge. I ask you: be merciful as you are mighty. Who cannot condemn rashness in hindsight? To kill is the worst sin, I grant, but in defense it is just. Anger is wrong, but who is not angry? Judge the crime fairly.
My lords, let me speak from a soldier's perspective. Why do men go to war if they shouldn't fight back against danger? Should they just let enemies kill them? If endurance is real courage, why do we fight at all? Then women sitting at home would be braver than soldiers, and prisoners would be wiser than judges. I'm asking you: have mercy. Anyone can judge rashly when it's over. Killing is wrong, I admit, but in self-defense it's just. Getting angry is a sin, but who doesn't? Consider the crime in context.
why fight if not defend? why war if endurance brave?
self-defense is just who is not angry?
You breathe in vain.
You waste your breath.
You're wasting time.
breathe in vain
In vain? His service done
At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
Were a sufficient briber for his life.
In vain? His military service at Lacedaemon and Byzantium should be enough to save his life.
In vain? What about his military service at those cities? Shouldn't that earn him his life?
service at lacedaemon byzantium sufficient briber
What’s that?
What is that?
What do you mean?
what?
Why, I say, my lords, has done fair service
And slain in fight many of your enemies.
How full of valour did he bear himself
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!
I say he served well and killed many of your enemies in battle. How bravely he bore himself in the last conflict, inflicting many wounds!
He fought well and killed your enemies. He was brave in battle and did real damage.
fair service slain many enemies valor in conflict
He has made too much plenty with ’em.
He’s a sworn rioter. He has a sin
That often drowns him and takes his valour prisoner.
If there were no foes, that were enough
To overcome him. In that beastly fury,
He has been known to commit outrages
And cherish factions. ’Tis inferred to us
His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
He has made too much slaughter. He is a sworn drinker. He has a sin — drunkenness — that drowns his valor. If there were no foes, that would be enough to destroy him. In that beastly state, he has committed outrages and stirred up factions. We are told his days are foul and his drinking dangerous.
He's a notorious drunk. Alcohol is his problem — it destroys his judgment. Even without enemies, that would be enough to ruin him. When he's drunk, he causes trouble and starts fights. Everyone knows his days are wild and his drinking is out of control.
sworn rioter drunkenness drowns valor foul days dangerous drink
He dies.
He dies.
He's going to die.
he dies
Hard fate! He might have died in war.
My lords, if not for any parts in him,
Though his right arm might purchase his own time
And be in debt to none, yet, more to move you,
Take my deserts to his and join ’em both.
And, for I know your reverend ages love
Security, I’ll pawn my victories, all
My honour, to you upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receive’t in valiant gore,
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
A harsh end! He could have died in war. My lords, beyond his own merit — though his sword arm could buy his own time — to move you further: take what I have deserved and add it to his account. And knowing your age respects security, I pledge my victories and all my honor as bond for his good behavior. If his crime means he owes his life to the law, let him pay it in war's blood. The law is strict, and war is the same.
That's harsh. At least he could've died fighting. But take what I've earned — all my honors and victories — and put it toward his account. I'll pledge everything I've achieved as a guarantee. If the law says he owes his life for this crime, let him pay it in battle instead of on the scaffold. The law and war are the same price.
die in war take my deserts pawn my victories my honor to you
We are for law. He dies. Urge it no more,
On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother,
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
We are bound by law. He dies. Do not press further, lest you anger us. Friend or brother, he who spills blood forfeits his own.
We follow the law. He dies. Stop asking, or we'll be angry with you. Whether he's your friend or brother, if you kill someone, you deserve death.
we are for law he dies do not urge more
Must it be so? It must not be.
My lords, I do beseech you, know me.
Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, I beg you, know me.
This can't happen. My lords, please — remember me.
it must not be know me
How?
What?
What?
how?
Call me to your remembrances.
Recall me to your memory.
Remember who I am.
call to remembrance
What?
What?
What?
what?
I cannot think but your age has forgot me,
It could not else be I should prove so base
To sue and be denied such common grace.
My wounds ache at you.
I cannot believe your age has forgotten me. Otherwise, I would not be so base as to be denied this common mercy. My wounds grieve to see this.
I can only assume you've forgotten me — otherwise you wouldn't abandon me like this. It breaks my heart.
age forgot me should not be denied common grace my wounds ache
Do you dare our anger?
’Tis in few words, but spacious in effect:
We banish thee for ever.
Do you dare challenge our anger? In few words but with large effect: we banish you forever.
Are you defying us? Here's what we're going to do: you're banished. Forever.
we banish thee for ever
Banish me?
Banish your dotage, banish usury,
That makes the Senate ugly.
Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish the usury that makes the Senate ugly.
Banish me? You should banish your own old age and the greed that makes this place corrupt.
banish usury that makes senate ugly
banish your dotage
If, after two days’ shine, Athens contain thee,
Attend our weightier judgment.
And, not to swell our spirit,
He shall be executed presently.
If, after two days of sun, you are still in Athens, face our heavier judgment. The man will be executed immediately.
If you're still in Athens in two days, we'll come after you harder. And your friend dies right now.
two days to leave or heavier judgment he dies presently
Now the gods keep you old enough, that you may live
Only in bone, that none may look on you!
I’m worse than mad. I have kept back their foes
While they have told their money and let out
Their coin upon large interest, I myself
Rich only in large hurts. All those for this?
Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
Pours into captains’ wounds? Banishment.
It comes not ill. I hate not to be banished.
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I’ll cheer up
My discontented troops and lay for hearts.
’Tis honour with most lands to be at odds.
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
May the gods keep you old forever, until you are nothing but bone and no one can bear to look! I am worse than mad now. I protected Athens from enemies while they counted money and charged interest. I am rich only in my scars. For this — banishment! This is the cure the usuring Senate offers soldiers? So be it. I do not hate being banished. It gives me cause to strike at Athens. I will rouse my troops, all discontented, and march on this city. It is a cause worthy of my rage. Soldiers should accept no more wrongs than gods.
I curse you to age forever until you're nothing but bones nobody wants to look at. I'm going insane. I fought your enemies while you made money off loans. I have nothing but scars. This is how you treat a soldier — banishment? Fine. I'll gladly be banished. Now I have a reason to attack Athens. I'll gather my army and march on this city. It's what I deserve to do. Soldiers shouldn't put up with any more injustice than gods would.
gods keep you old only bone no one look
i kept foes at bay while they lent money now banished
i will strike athens marry my rage soldiers brook no wrongs