by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
Translation by François Pierre Guillaume Guizot (1787 - 1874)
Prospero's Vision
Language: English
You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. [Our revels now are ended.]1 These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; [Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose:]1 a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind.
View original text (without footnotes)
1 omitted by Saariaho.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
1 omitted by Saariaho.
Text Authorship:
- by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), appears in The Tempest, Act IV, Scene 1 (Prospero) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Kaija Saariaho (1952 - 2023), "Prospero's Vision", published 2004? [ baritone, clarinet, harp, violin, and contrabass ], from The Tempest Songbook, no. 4 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (François Pierre Guillaume Guizot)
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Andrea Maffei) , no title, first published 1869
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-01-21
Line count: 18
Word count: 139
Vous avez l'air ému, mon fils
Language: French (Français) after the English
Vous avez l'air ému, mon fils, comme si vous étiez rempli d'effroi. Soyez tranquille. Maintenant voilà nos divertissements finis ; nos acteurs, comme je vous l'ai dit d'avance, étaient tous des esprits ; ils se sont fondus en air, en air subtil ; et, pareils à l'édifice sans base de cette vision, se dissoudront aussi les tours qui se perdent dans les nues, les palais somptueux, les temples solennels, notre vaste globe, oui, notre globe lui-même, et tout ce qu'il reçoit de la succession des temps ; et comme s'est évanoui cet appareil mensonger, ils se dissoudront, sans même laisser derrière eux la trace que laisse le nuage emporté par le vent. Nous sommes faits de la vaine substance dont se forment les songes, et notre chétive vie est environnée d'un sommeil. Seigneur, j'éprouve quelque chagrin : supportez ma faiblesse ; ma vieille tête est troublée ; ne vous tourmentez point de mon infirmité. Veuillez rentrer dans ma caverne et vous y reposer. Je vais faire un tour ou deux pour calmer mon esprit agité.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- by François Pierre Guillaume Guizot (1787 - 1874) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), appears in The Tempest, Act IV, Scene 1 (Prospero)
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Researcher for this page: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2010-11-01
Line count: 18
Word count: 168