LESSON 35

HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS

亨利五世致部队士兵

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616, was born at Stratford-upon-Avon. By many (perhaps most) critics, Shakespeare is regarded as the greatest poet the world has ever produced; one calls him, “The most illustrious of the sons of men.” And yet it is a curious fact that less is really known of his life and personal characteristics than is known of almost any other famous name in history. Over one hundred years ago, a writer said, “All that is known with any degree of certainty concerning Shakespeare is—that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon—married and had children there—went to London, where he commenced acting, and wrote poems and plays—returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried.” All the research of the last one hundred years has added but very little to this meager record. He was married, very young, to Anne Hathaway, a woman eight years his senior; was joint proprietor of Blackfriar’s Theater in 1589, and seems to have accumulated property, and retired three or four years before his death. He was buried in Stratford Church, where a monument has been erected to his memory; he also has a monument in “Poet’s Corner” of Westminster Abbey. His family soon became extinct. From all we can learn, he seems to have been highly respected and esteemed by his cotemporaries.

His works consist chiefly of plays and sonnets. His writings show an astonishing knowledge of human nature, expressed in language wonderful for its point and beauty. His style is chaste and pure, judged by the standard of his times, although expressions may sometimes be found that would not be considered proper in a modern writer. It has been argued by some that Shakespeare did not write the works imputed to him; but this theory seems to have little to support it. This extract is from King Henry V., Act III, Scene I.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.

In peace there ’s nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O’er hang and jutty his confounded base,

Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To its full height! On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war proof!

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,

Have, in these parts, from morn till even, fought,

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument;

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war.

               And you, good yeomen, 

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not;

For there is none of you so mean and base,

That hath not noble luster in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot;

Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge,

Cry—“God for Harry, England, and St. George!”

【中文阅读】

亲爱的朋友们，加把劲向缺口冲啊；

要么拿咱们英国人的尸体去封堵住这道墙。

在安定时期，就要做个大丈夫，

斯文平和，还有谦逊都不可少；

但是当耳畔响起战鼓的喧嚣，

就要效仿猛虎饿狼；

让筋脉喷张，让血气上扬，

把善良的天性化成面目狰狞的愤怒。

一双眼睛放出可怕的火光，

从眼窝突出来，

就像铜炮管；还要把那双眉拧紧，把眼睛罩住，

恰似受到侮辱的岩石

俯视着防波堤那令人惊愕的底座，

汹涌的大海把它冲刷。

牙关紧咬，鼻孔张大，

屏住呼吸，像弓弦一样把每根神经绷紧！

冲啊，冲啊，你们这些最高贵的英国人，

血管里流着的祖先的热血就是明证！

你们的祖先个个像亚历山大，

就在这些地方，从早杀到晚，

直到没有敌手，才把那宝剑藏起。

现在，效仿那些勇敢的人，

教给他们该怎样打仗吧！

还有你们，好农民们，

你们的根生长在英格兰土地上，就在这儿我们看看

你们的精神和勇气。让我们发誓吧，

你们配得上你们的血统，我毫不怀疑；

因为你们都不是那种平庸卑微的人，

眼睛里闪烁出高贵的神采。

我看到，你们站在这里，和上了皮带的猎狗一样，

全身绷紧准备开始。狩猎开始啦；

打起精神：勇往直前，

边冲边喊：“上帝保佑亨利、英格兰和圣乔治！”