The Two Noble Kinsmen was almost certainly co-written by Shakespeare and John Fletcher around 1613-1614 — one of the last plays Shakespeare had a hand in. Fletcher was his successor as the King's Men's house playwright, a generation younger and with a very different sensibility: more decorative, more emotionally direct, more interested in tragicomic patterns. Scholars generally believe Shakespeare wrote the beginning and end of the play (including this scene), and Fletcher wrote most of the middle. The opening scene has the weight and compression of late Shakespeare — the imagery of the wedding song, the sudden entrance of three black-veiled queens, the collision of joy and grief in a single theatrical moment. If you find some sections more lush and ornate than others, you are probably reading Fletcher. If you find moments of stark, strange compression, that is probably Shakespeare at his most distilled.
The First Queen leads with political rhetoric — flattery of Theseus's reputation, appeals to his heroic identity. She is the most strategically eloquent of the three. Watch for her use of urgency and timing as persuasion.
For pity’s sake and true gentility’s,
Hear and respect me.
For pity's sake and for true courtesy's sake, hear me and respect what I say.
Please, I'm begging you — listen to me and take this seriously.
pity us we're begging listen treat us with respect
For your mother’s sake,
And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,
Hear and respect me.
For the sake of your mother, and as you hope someday to have fair children, hear and respect me.
Think of your mother. Think about wanting beautiful kids someday — please listen to us.
for your mother for children you want listen to us please
Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath marked
The honour of your bed, and for the sake
Of clear virginity, be advocate
For us and our distresses. This good deed
Shall raze you out o’ th’ book of trespasses
All you are set down there.
Now, for the love of him whom Jupiter has blessed as the glory of your marriage, and for the sake of your virginity, be an advocate for us and our suffering. This kindness will erase you from the book of sins where you are now recorded.
For the man Jupiter blessed you to marry, and for your honor, stand up for us and what we're going through. Do this and you'll wipe clean every sin anyone ever wrote against you.
for jove's chosen man for your honor stand for us help our suffering clear your debts
Theseus speaks in the register of a man who has seen everything and decided he can bear anything — but his speeches keep breaking open into genuine feeling. Watch for the moments when his formal rhetoric suddenly goes personal, as when he recalls seeing the First Queen's beauty at her husband's wedding.
Sad lady, rise.
Sorrowful lady, rise.
Come on, get up. Don't kneel.
please stand up
Hippolyta's few lines are compressed and precise — she has been a warrior queen and speaks with the economy of someone used to command. Watch how she distinguishes between what she feels ('Heart-deep') and what she will do ('I'll speak anon') — she never wastes words.
Stand up.
Stand up.
Get up.
stand now
Emilia's voice is the most empathetic in the play — she reaches toward other people's pain almost involuntarily. Watch for her tendency to turn others' grief into vivid, painterly images, as if she can only fully feel by seeing.
No knees to me.
What woman I may stead that is distressed,
Does bind me to her.
Do not kneel to me. Any woman in distress whom I can help, I am bound to her.
Don't kneel. Any woman suffering — if I can help her, I will.
don't kneel women in pain i'm theirs i'm bound to help
What’s your request? Deliver you for all.
What do you need? Tell me for all of you.
So what's your request? Speak for everyone.
what's everyone need?
The scene's central crisis — Creon forbidding burial of the defeated kings — is lifted directly from Greek tragedy, most famously Sophocles' Antigone. In that play, Creon's edict against burying Polynices drives his niece Antigone to her death in defiance. For an Elizabethan audience, the stakes of burial were not abstract: proper Christian burial was a serious social and religious matter, and to deny it was to deny the soul its rest. Shakespeare and Fletcher import this Greek outrage into a world where the audience understands both the classical mythology and the contemporary weight. The three queens are not just politically aggrieved — they are spiritually desperate. And Theseus, by agreeing to help, is not just performing chivalry. He is restoring cosmic order.
We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before
The wrath of cruel Creon, who endure
The beaks of ravens, talons of the kites,
And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes.
He will not suffer us to burn their bones,
To urn their ashes, nor to take th’ offence
Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye
Of holy Phœbus, but infects the winds
With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke!
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared sword
That does good turns to th’ world; give us the bones
Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them;
And of thy boundless goodness take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof
Save this, which is the lion’s and the bear’s,
And vault to everything.
We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before the rage of cruel Creon and now endure the beaks of ravens, talons of kites, and pecks of crows upon the foul fields of Thebes. He will not suffer us to burn their bones, to urn their ashes, nor to take away the offense of mortal corruption from the blessed eye of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds with the stench of our slain lords. O mercy, Duke! You purger of the earth, draw your feared sword that does good; give us the bones of our dead kings so that we may temple them; and note our sorrow — for our crowned heads we have no roof but this, which is the lion's and the bear's, and every creature's vault.
Our kings are dead on the Theban battlefield. Creon won't let anyone bury them or burn them. Ravens and kites and crows are tearing at their bodies. The smell is everywhere — it's offending the gods. We have nowhere to go, nothing, just open sky that we share with wild animals. Please help us. Use your power to force Creon to let us give our husbands proper burial.
our kings are dead rotting on the battlefield birds tear them apart creon won't let us bury them we sleep in open air with wild beasts no shelter no dignity please
Pray you, kneel not.
I was transported with your speech and suffered
Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunes
Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em.
King Capaneus was your lord. The day
That he should marry you, at such a season
As now it is with me, I met your groom
By Mars’s altar. You were that time fair!
Not Juno’s mantle fairer than your tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreath
Was then nor threshed nor blasted. Fortune at you
Dimpled her cheek with smiles. Hercules, our kinsman,
Then weaker than your eyes, laid by his club;
He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide
And swore his sinews thawed. O grief and time,
Fearful consumers, you will all devour!
Please don't kneel, sad lady. Your words overwhelmed me so deeply that I regret letting your knees humble themselves. I have learned the fate of your dead husbands, and it fills me with such grief That it awakens my desire for vengeance and revenge on their behalf. King Capaneus was your husband. The day you married him— At just about this same point in my own life— I met your bridegroom by the altar of Mars. You were so beautiful then! More beautiful than the very mantle of Juno, And her beauty was spread out even more abundantly. Your golden crown of wheat hadn't yet been threshed or damaged. Fortune herself dimpled her cheek with smiles for you. Hercules, our kinsman, was weaker than even your eyes alone in those days And laid down his club; He fell upon his lion skin And swore that his muscles had melted. O grief and time, you terrible destroyers, You will consume everything!
Don't kneel to me, sad lady. What you said hit me so hard that I'm sorry your knees had to do that. I know what happened to your dead husbands, and it makes me so angry That I want revenge for them. King Capaneus was your husband. On your wedding day— Right when I was at pretty much the same point in my own life— I met your husband by Mars's altar. You were stunning back then! More beautiful than even Juno's cloak, and way more radiant. Your crown of golden wheat hadn't been damaged or withered yet. It's like Fortune herself was just smiling and putting dimples in her cheeks for you. Hercules, our cousin, was weaker than just your eyes alone back then And gave up his club; He fell on his lion skin And swore his muscles just melted away. God, grief and time, you're terrible destroyers— You're going to consume absolutely everything!
don't kneel your words broke me i know what happened to your dead husbands it makes me so angry i want revenge for them you were breathtaking on your wedding day more beautiful than the gods themselves but time & grief will destroy everything
O, I hope some god,
Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood,
Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forth
Our undertaker.
I hope some god has placed mercy in your courage, and will give you strength to become our advocate.
I hope heaven has blessed you with both compassion and strength, so you'll help our cause.
i hope some god blessed you with strength to help us
O, no knees, none, widow!
Unto the helmeted Bellona use them,
And pray for me, your soldier.
Troubled I am.
No, do not kneel to me, widow. Unto Bellona, the armed goddess, use your knees, and pray for me, your soldier. I am troubled.
Don't kneel to me. If you kneel, kneel to the war goddess. And pray for me — I'm your soldier now. This is heavy.
don't kneel i'm your soldier going to war prior for me i'm troubled
Honoured Hippolyta,
Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain
The scythe-tusked boar; that with thy arm, as strong
As it is white, wast near to make the male
To thy sex captive, but that this thy lord,
Born to uphold creation in that honour
First nature styled it in, shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduing
Thy force and thy affection; soldieress
That equally canst poise sternness with pity,
Whom now I know hast much more power on him
Than ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strength
And his love too, who is a servant for
The tenor of thy speech, dear glass of ladies,
Bid him that we, whom flaming war doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us;
Require him he advance it o’er our heads;
Speak ’t in a woman’s key, like such a woman
As any of us three; weep ere you fail.
Lend us a knee;
But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a dove’s motion when the head’s plucked off.
Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen,
Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon,
What you would do.
Honored Hippolyta, most feared Amazon who slew the boar; that with your arm, as strong as it is white, you were near to make the male sex your captive, but that your lord, born to uphold creation in its proper order, shrank you into the bounds you overflowed before, at once subduing your force and your affection — warrior woman who can balance sternness with pity, whom I know has more power over him than he ever had over you, who holds his strength and his love as your servant — mirror of ladies, bid him that we whom flaming war scorches may shelter under his sword's shade; require him to raise it above our heads. Speak in a woman's voice, like one of us. Weep if you must. Lend us a knee — but for no longer than a dove's motion when its head is plucked off. Tell him that if he lay swollen in a blood-sized field, showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, what would you do?
You were a warrior queen. You could've beaten men in battle. Your husband came along and tamed you, made you smaller, weaker. But here's the thing: he loves you more than you love him. He'll do anything you say. You have all the power. So tell him to help us. We're being destroyed by war. Ask him to protect us with his sword. Speak like a woman — cry if you need to. If he were lying dead on a battlefield, swollen and rotting, what would you do to save him? Do that for us.
you were a warrior once strong he tamed you but he loves you more he'll listen help us use your power
Poor lady, say no more.
I had as lief trace this good action with you
As that whereto I am going, and never yet
Went I so willing way. My lord is taken
Heart-deep with your distress. Let him consider;
I’ll speak anon.
Dear lady, say no more. I would as willingly follow this good action with you as go to that which I am bound to, and I have never taken a path so gladly. My lord is moved to his very heart by your distress. Let him consider. I will speak when the time comes.
Don't say anymore. Honestly, I'd rather help you than go get married. I've never been so willing to do something. Your grief has shaken my husband to his core. Let him think about it. I'll say more when the moment is right.
i'd rather help than marry your grief touched him he's thinking i'll speak soon
O, my petition was
Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,
Is pressed with deeper matter.
My petition was set down in ice, which the hot fire of grief has thawed, melting it into tears. So sorrow, without proper form, presses down with heavier weight.
My words came out stiff and frozen. But your sadness warmed them up, and now they're just liquid despair. Grief that has no shape weighs more heavily.
my plea was frozen your sorrow warmed it now it's just tears shapeless heavy destroyed
Pray, stand up;
Your grief is written in your cheek.
Please, stand up. Your grief is written plainly on your face.
Please get up. I can read all your pain right on your face.
stand up i see it in your face your grief
O, woe!
You cannot read it there. There through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
You may behold ’em. Lady, lady, alack!
He that will all the treasure know o’ th’ earth
Must know the center too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me!
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.
O, you cannot read what is written there. Through my tears — like wrinkled pebbles in a clear stream — you may see them. Lady, lady, alas! He who would know all the treasure of the earth must also know the center. He who would fish for my smallest thought, let him cast his line to catch it at my heart. O, forgive me! Extremity, that sharpens various talents, makes me a fool.
No, you can't read it there. Look through my tears — they're like pebbles in clear water, all distorted. If you want to understand me, you'd have to fish in my heart itself. I'm sorry. When grief gets this bad, it makes you stupid.
look through the tears like pebbles in water everything distorted to understand me fish your line into my heart sorry extreme grief makes me foolish
Pray you say nothing, pray you.
Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in ’t,
Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were
The ground-piece of some painter, I would buy you
T’ instruct me ’gainst a capital grief, indeed
Such heart-pierced demonstration. But, alas,
Being a natural sister of our sex,
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me
That it shall make a counter-reflect ’gainst
My brother’s heart and warm it to some pity,
Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.
Please say nothing more. Who cannot feel the rain or see it when they are in it, knows neither wet nor dry. If you were a painting's foundation, I would buy you to teach me against a deadly grief — such a heart-pierced image. But being a natural sister of our sex, your sorrow strikes so fiercely upon me that it will make a counter-reflection against my brother's heart and warm it toward pity, though it were stone. Please have good comfort.
Don't say more. You can't understand what something is like when you're inside it. If you were a painting, I'd buy you to learn from — to understand real grief. But you're a woman like me, and your pain hits me so hard that it's going to make my brother feel it too. It'll warm his heart, even if he's made of stone. Please, have hope.
don't speak i understand from inside grief you're a woman like me your pain hits me hits my brother warms his stone heart to pity
Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jot
O’ th’ sacred ceremony.
Let's go to the temple! Don't skip any part of the sacred ceremony.
Forward to the temple! Don't skip any of the ceremony.
to the temple don't skip the ceremony
O, this celebration
Will longer last and be more costly than
Your suppliants’ war! Remember that your fame
Knolls in the ear o’ th’ world; what you do quickly
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more
Than others’ laboured meditance, your premeditating
More than their actions. But, O Jove, your actions,
Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish,
Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think
What beds our slain kings have!
This celebration will last longer and cost more than your suppliants' war! Remember that your fame rings throughout the world; when you do something quickly, it's not done rashly; your first thought is worth more than other people's careful deliberation, your planning more than their actions. But, O Jupiter, your actions, as soon as they move, like ospreys striking fish, subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think what beds our slain kings have!
This celebration is going to take longer and cost more than our whole war! Your reputation echoes everywhere—when you act fast, it's not hasty. Your first instinct is worth more than other people's careful thought. You plan more than other people actually do. Your actions, like an osprey diving for fish, defeat your enemy before they even touch you. Think about it, Duke—what kind of beds do our dead kings have? The ground.
this celebration costs more than the war ur famous everywhere when u act fast its not rash ur first thought > other ppl's careful thinking ur actions subdue b4 they touch think of where our kings r buried
What griefs our beds,
That our dear lords have none!
What sorrows fill our beds, that our dear lords have none!
Our beds are full of grief while our dear lords have no beds at all!
our beds r full of grief our lords have none
None fit for th’ dead.
Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance,
Weary of this world’s light, have to themselves
Been death’s most horrid agents, human grace
Affords them dust and shadow.
None suitable for the dead. Those who with ropes, knives, poison, or by throwing themselves, tired of life, became death's servants—even they receive from human mercy dust to cover them and shadow to rest them.
Nothing proper for the dead. People who killed themselves with ropes, knives, or poison, worn out by living—they became death's agents, yet we still show them mercy with burial and graves.
nothing for the dead people who killed themselves still get human kindness burial and graves
But our lords
Lie blist’ring ’fore the visitating sun,
And were good kings when living.
But our lords lie blistered before the sun's rays, and were good kings when alive.
Our lords are lying out there, blistered by the sun, and they were good kings when they were alive.
our lords r lying blistered in the sun they were good kings
It is true, and I will give you comfort
To give your dead lords graves;
The which to do must make some work with Creon.
That's true, and I will help by giving your dead lords proper burials; but to do that I must have conflict with Creon.
That's right, and I'll help by giving your lords proper burials. But I'll have to deal with Creon to make that happen.
yeah i'll give your lords graves but i gotta deal with creon
And that work presents itself to th’ doing.
Now ’twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow.
Then, bootless toil must recompense itself
With its own sweat. Now he’s secure,
Not dreams we stand before your puissance,
Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes
To make petition clear.
And that task is ready to be done. Now it will take shape; the battle's heat will be gone by tomorrow. Then difficult work must reward itself through its own labor. Now he's feeling secure, not imagining we stand before your power, our holy plea shown through tears to make our request clear.
The work is right in front of us. It will happen now—the battle's over tomorrow. Hard work will just have to pay for itself through sweat. He thinks he's safe now, doesn't believe we have your power behind us. We're showing our desperation through tears.
the work is ready the battle ends tomorrow he thinks he's safe he doesn't know you're here we're begging with tears
Now you may take him, drunk with his victory.
Now you can attack him, drunk with his victory.
Right now you can take him down—he's drunk on his victory, overconfident.
now u can get him he's drunk on victory
And his army full of bread and sloth.
And his army full of bread and laziness.
And his army is full of food and laziness—they're not ready to fight.
his soldiers r well fed but too lazy 2 fight
Artesius, that best knowest
How to draw out fit to this enterprise
The prim’st for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business: forth and levy
Our worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of fate in wedlock.
Artesius, you who best know how to select the finest soldiers for this task and the right number to carry out such business: go gather our worthiest fighters, while I handle this most important act of my life, this daring deed of marriage.
Artesius, you know best how to pick the top soldiers for this mission and how many you'll need. Go assemble our best fighters while I deal with my wedding, which is the most important thing I'll ever do.
artesius pick the best soldiers gather our strongest fighters i'll be handling my wedding
Dowagers, take hands.
Let us be widows to our woes; delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.
Widows, take hands. Let us surrender to our sorrows; delay only offers us a starving hope.
Widows, hold hands together. Let's surrender to our grief. Waiting around just keeps us in a state of desperate, dying hope.
widows take hands let us surrender 2 our grief delay just starves our hope
This scene is structurally extraordinary: it opens with a wedding and ends with a war — and the whole play is going to do the same thing, at a higher pitch and greater cost. The competition between love and honour, between ceremony and obligation, between what we want and what we owe — that competition is announced in the first ten minutes and never resolved. Even the stage picture is deliberate: Theseus between Hippolyta and the three queens, pulled in two directions, is a visual emblem of the play's central problem. He chooses honour — he always does — but the choice costs him his wedding night. Keep watching for the ways the play keeps restaging this same scene: a moment of private joy interrupted by a public demand.
Farewell!
Farewell!
Goodbye!
goodbye
We come unseasonably; but when could grief
Cull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt’st time
For best solicitation?
We come at the wrong time; but when could grief ever pick the right moment for the best request?
We know it's bad timing, but grief doesn't get to pick when it can ask for help.
we know it's bad timing but grief doesn't get to choose
Why, good ladies,
This is a service, whereto I am going,
Greater than any war; it more imports me
Than all the actions that I have foregone,
Or futurely can cope.
Well, my ladies, this task I'm undertaking is greater than any war; it matters to me more than all the actions I've done before or can do in the future.
Ladies, helping you is more important to me than any war, more than anything I've done before or will do.
this is more important than any war more than anything else i've done
The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected when her arms,
Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall
By warranting moonlight corselet thee. O, when
Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall
Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think
Of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What care
For what thou feel’st not, what thou feel’st being able
To make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couch
But one night with her, every hour in ’t will
Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more than what
That banquet bids thee to.
The more we announce our need, the more it will be overlooked once her arms, strong enough to hold even the king of gods, embrace you in moonlight. When her sweet lips fall upon yours, what will you think of dead kings or suffering queens? What will you care about what you don't feel, even though you could make Mars abandon warfare? If you spend even one night with her, every hour will feel like a hundred to you, and you'll remember nothing but the pleasure of that time.
Our plea will be forgotten once she holds you in moonlight with arms strong enough to keep even a god. When she kisses you, you won't think about dead kings or suffering queens. You won't care about pain you don't feel. Even though you have the power to stop wars, one night with her will make you forget everything—a single hour will feel like a hundred.
she'll make you forget us her beauty will make you forget everything one night with her and you won't care anymore
Though much unlike
You should be so transported, as much sorry
I should be such a suitor, yet I think,
Did I not, by th’ abstaining of my joy,
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit
That craves a present med’cine, I should pluck
All ladies’ scandal on me. Therefore, sir,
Though it would be very strange for you to be moved this way, I would be equally wrong to be such a pleader. Yet I think if I didn't hold back my own happiness, which creates a deeper longing, to heal their overwhelming need that demands immediate help, I would bring shame on all women. Therefore, sir...
It's strange for you to be moved like this, and I feel bad asking it. But if I didn't sacrifice my own joy to help heal their desperate pain, I'd be letting down all women. So, sir...
it's strange you're moved i feel bad asking but if i don't help them i'd let down all women
As I shall here make trial of my prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for aye their vigor dumb,
Prorogue this business we are going about, and hang
Your shield afore your heart, about that neck
Which is my fee, and which I freely lend
To do these poor queens service.
Whether my prayers have power or not, I ask you to delay this military campaign. Wear your shield close to your heart around your neck—this is my gift to you, which I freely give so you can help these desperate queens.
I don't know if my prayers will work, but I'm asking you to put off this campaign. Keep your shield close to your heart—this is my gift to you, freely given so you can help these poor queens.
pls delay the campaign wear ur shield close to ur heart i'm giving u this gift so u can help these queens
[_To Emilia_.] O, help now!
Our cause cries for your knee.
Help us now! Our cause needs you to kneel to Theseus.
Please, help us! Our cause desperately needs you to beg Theseus for us.
help us now we need u to beg theseus
[_To Theseus, kneeling_.] If you grant not
My sister her petition in that force,
With that celerity and nature, which
She makes it in, from henceforth I’ll not dare
To ask you anything, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a husband.
If you don't grant my sister her request with the same strength and urgency and sincerity as she's making it, then I will never again dare ask you for anything, and I will never be bold enough to take a husband.
If you don't help my sister the way she's asking—with that same passion and sincerity—then I'm done asking you for favors, and I'll never marry.
if u don't help my sister the way she's asking i'm never asking u for anything again and i'm never getting married
Pray stand up.
I am entreating of myself to do
Please stand up. I'm trying to convince myself to do it.
Stand up, please. I'm trying to make myself do this.
stand up i'm convincing myself
That which you kneel to have me.—Pirithous,
Lead on the bride; get you and pray the gods
For success and return; omit not anything
In the pretended celebration.—Queens,
Follow your soldier. [_To Artesius._] As before, hence you,
And at the banks of Aulis meet us with
The forces you can raise, where we shall find
The moiety of a number for a business
More bigger looked.
I'll do what you asked me to. Pirithous, bring the bride forward. Go and pray to the gods for our success and safe return—don't leave anything out of the wedding celebration. Queens, follow the soldier. Artesius, go as before and meet us at the banks of Aulis with all the forces you can gather. We'll find enough soldiers there for this greater undertaking.
I'll do it. Pirithous, lead the bride forward and make sure everyone prays for our success and return—do the full wedding ceremony. Queens, come with us. Artesius, go ahead and gather as many soldiers as you can at Aulis. We'll have enough there for this bigger campaign.
i'll do it pirithous lead the bride do full wedding prayers artesius gather troops at aulis we got this
[_To Hippolyta._] Since that our theme is haste,
I stamp this kiss upon thy currant lip;
Sweet, keep it as my token. Set you forward,
For I will see you gone.
Since we're in such a hurry, I give you this kiss as a seal on your lips, my love; keep it as a reminder of me. Go ahead, for I want to watch you depart.
Since we're in such a rush, here—take this kiss as a token from me. Go on now, I want to see you off.
gotta go fast here's a kiss to remember me by go on i'll watch u leave
Farewell, my beauteous sister.—Pirithous,
Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on ’t.
Good-bye, my beautiful sister. Pirithous, keep the celebration going—don't cut even an hour short.
Good-bye, beautiful sister. Pirithous, keep the feast going full strength—don't stop even for a minute.
bye sis pirithous keep the party going all night
Pirithous is Theseus's best friend, loyal to a fault and slightly underpowered narratively. His speeches are supportive, competent, and warm. Watch for him as the scene's emotional barometer — he reflects what those around him feel.
Sir,
I’ll follow you at heels. The feast’s solemnity
Shall want till your return.
Sir, I'll follow close behind you. The celebration of the feast will be incomplete until your return.
Sir, I'll be right behind you. The feast won't feel complete until you get back.
i'll follow you the feast won't be complete without you
Cousin, I charge you,
Budge not from Athens. We shall be returning
Ere you can end this feast, of which I pray you
Make no abatement. Once more, farewell all.
Cousin, I'm ordering you to stay in Athens. We will be back before you finish the feast, which is why I'm asking you not to reduce it. Once more, goodbye to all.
Cousin, stay in Athens, don't leave. We'll be back before the feast ends, so I want you to keep it going at full strength. Goodbye, everyone.
stay in athens don't cut the feast short we'll be back soon
Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o’ th’ world.
You continue to live up to the world's opinion of you.
You keep living up to everything the world says about you.
u live up 2 what ppl say about u
And earn’st a deity equal with Mars.
And you earn the status of a god equal to Mars.
And you've become a god equal to Mars.
you're like a god
If not above him, for
Thou, being but mortal, mak’st affections bend
To godlike honours; they themselves, some say,
Groan under such a mast’ry.
Perhaps even greater than him, because though you are mortal, you make emotions bend toward godlike honor; the gods themselves, some say, struggle under such dominion.
Maybe even greater than Mars, because though you're human, you make love itself bend to your will in a godlike way. Even the gods themselves struggle under such power, some say.
maybe greater than mars you make love bend to godlike power even gods struggle with it
As we are men,
Thus should we do; being sensually subdued,
We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies.
Now turn we towards your comforts.
As we are men, we should act this way; if we're controlled by desire alone, we lose what makes us human. Be cheerful, ladies. Now let's go toward your comfort.
That's what men should do—we have to act with compassion. If we let ourselves be controlled by desire alone, we stop being human. Cheer up, ladies. Let's go help you.
that's what men do we can't be controlled by desire or we lose our humanity let's go help you
The Reckoning
The play opens at its most ceremonial — a wedding, flowers, song, the god Hymen himself — and within minutes three women in black are prostrate on the ground. The collision of joy and grief is not accidental; this is the play's central engine. Theseus is persuaded, his new bride is persuaded, even Emilia kneels. The audience is left wondering whether love or duty is the greater force — and whether Theseus has answered that question or merely deferred it.
If this happened today…
Imagine a celebrity couple's wedding reception, just as the toasts start. Three women in mourning clothes push through security and fall to their knees before the groom — their husbands were killed by a warlord dictator, their bodies left unburied, and only this groom has the military resources to do anything. The bride's sister whispers that if he does nothing she'll never get married herself. The groom puts down his champagne flute and starts making calls to his generals. The caterer watches the centerpieces wilt.