Překladatelský oříšek - jak přeložit název komedie Oscara Wildea?
I překládání slovních hříček má své zásady.
Mnohdy jazyk již svými stavebními vlastnostmi vytváří zvláště příznivé podmínky pro některý typ uměleckých prostředků. Tak angličtina bohatstvím homonym a synonym, které je u jazyka převážně jednoslabičného přirozené, má zvláště příznivé podmínky pro tvoření slovních hříček. Silnou tradici slovních hříček v anglické literatuře již od dob biblických překladů a Shakespearových dramat je stěží možno pokládat za pouhou náhodu.
http://sas.ujc.cas.cz/archiv.php?art=783
Jack. Gwendolen!
Gwendolen. Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got to say to me?
Jack. You know what I have got to say to you.
Gwendolen. Yes, but you don't say it.
Jack. Gwendolen, will you marry me? [Goes on his knees.]
Gwendolen. Of course I will, darling. How long you have been about it!
I am afraid you have had very little experience in how to propose.
Jack. My own one, I have never loved any one in the world but you.
Gwendolen. Yes, but men often propose for practice. I know my brother
Gerald does. All my girl-friends tell me so. What wonderfully blue eyes
you have, Ernest! They are quite, quite, blue. I hope you will always
look at me just like that, especially when there are other people
present. [Enter Lady Bracknell.]
Lady Bracknell. Mr. Worthing! Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent
posture. It is most indecorous.
Gwendolen. Mamma! [He tries to rise; she restrains him.] I must beg
you to retire. This is no place for you. Besides, Mr. Worthing has not
quite finished yet.
Lady Bracknell. Finished what, may I ask?
Gwendolen. I am engaged to Mr. Worthing, mamma. [They rise together.]
Lady Bracknell. Pardon me, you are not engaged to any one. When you do
become engaged to some one, I, or your father, should his health permit
him, will inform you of the fact. An engagement should come on a young
girl as a surprise, pleasant or unpleasant, as the case may be. It is
hardly a matter that she could be allowed to arrange for herself . . .
And now I have a few questions to put to you, Mr. Worthing. While I am
making these inquiries, you, Gwendolen, will wait for me below in the
carriage.
Gwendolen. [Reproachfully.] Mamma!
Lady Bracknell. In the carriage, Gwendolen! [Gwendolen goes to the
door. She and Jack blow kisses to each other behind Lady Bracknell's
back. Lady Bracknell looks vaguely about as if she could not understand
what the noise was. Finally turns round.] Gwendolen, the carriage!
Gwendolen. Yes, mamma. [Goes out, looking back at Jack.]
Lady Bracknell. [Sitting down.] You can take a seat, Mr. Worthing.
[Looks in her pocket for note-book and pencil.]
Jack. Thank you, Lady Bracknell, I prefer standing.
Lady Bracknell. [Pencil and note-book in hand.] I feel bound to tell
you that you are not down on my list of eligible young men, although I
have the same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton has. We work together,
in fact. However, I am quite ready to enter your name, should your
answers be what a really affectionate mother requires. Do you smoke?
Jack. Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.
Lady Bracknell. I am glad to hear it. A man should always have an
occupation of some kind. There are far too many idle men in London as it
is. How old are you?
Jack. Twenty-nine.
Lady Bracknell. A very good age to be married at. I have always been of
opinion that a man who desires to get married should know either
everything or nothing. Which do you know?
Jack. [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.
Lady Bracknell. I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything
that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic
fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern
education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate,
education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a
serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of
violence in Grosvenor Square. What is your income?
Jack. Between seven and eight thousand a year.
Lady Bracknell. [Makes a note in her book.] In land, or in investments?
Jack. In investments, chiefly.
Lady Bracknell. That is satisfactory. What between the duties expected
of one during one's lifetime, and the duties exacted from one after one's
death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure. It gives one
position, and prevents one from keeping it up. That's all that can be
said about land.
Jack. I have a country house with some land, of course, attached to it,
about fifteen hundred acres, I believe; but I don't depend on that for my
real income. In fact, as far as I can make out, the poachers are the
only people who make anything out of it.
Lady Bracknell. A country house! How many bedrooms? Well, that point
can be cleared up afterwards. You have a town house, I hope? A girl
with a simple, unspoiled nature, like Gwendolen, could hardly be expected
to reside in the country.
Jack. Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is let by the year
to Lady Bloxham. Of course, I can get it back whenever I like, at six
months' notice.
Lady Bracknell. Lady Bloxham? I don't know her.
Jack. Oh, she goes about very little. She is a lady considerably
advanced in years.
Lady Bracknell. Ah, nowadays that is no guarantee of respectability of
character. What number in Belgrave Square?
Jack. 149.
Lady Bracknell. [Shaking her head.] The unfashionable side. I thought
there was something. However, that could easily be altered.
Jack. Do you mean the fashion, or the side?
Lady Bracknell. [Sternly.] Both, if necessary, I presume. What are
your politics?
Jack. Well, I am afraid I really have none. I am a Liberal Unionist.
Lady Bracknell. Oh, they count as Tories. They dine with us. Or come
in the evening, at any rate. Now to minor matters. Are your parents
living?
Jack. I have lost both my parents.
Lady Bracknell. To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a
misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. Who was your father?
He was evidently a man of some wealth. Was he born in what the Radical
papers call the purple of commerce, or did he rise from the ranks of the
aristocracy?
Jack. I am afraid I really don't know. The fact is, Lady Bracknell, I
said I had lost my parents. It would be nearer the truth to say that my
parents seem to have lost me . . . I don't actually know who I am by
birth. I was . . . well, I was found.
Lady Bracknell. Found!
Jack. The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman of a very charitable
and kindly disposition, found me, and gave me the name of Worthing,
because he happened to have a first-class ticket for Worthing in his
pocket at the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex. It is a seaside
resort.
Lady Bracknell. Where did the charitable gentleman who had a first-class
ticket for this seaside resort find you?
Jack. [Gravely.] In a hand-bag.
Lady Bracknell. A hand-bag?
Jack. [Very seriously.] Yes, Lady Bracknell. I was in a hand-bag--a
somewhat large, black leather hand-bag, with handles to it--an ordinary
hand-bag in fact.
Lady Bracknell. In what locality did this Mr. James, or Thomas, Cardew
come across this ordinary hand-bag?
Jack. In the cloak-room at Victoria Station. It was given to him in
mistake for his own.
Lady Bracknell. The cloak-room at Victoria Station?
Jack. Yes. The Brighton line.
Lady Bracknell. The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing, I confess I feel
somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any
rate bred, in a hand-bag, whether it had handles or not, seems to me to
display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life that reminds
one of the worst excesses of the French Revolution. And I presume you
know what that unfortunate movement led to? As for the particular
locality in which the hand-bag was found, a cloak-room at a railway
station might serve to conceal a social indiscretion--has probably,
indeed, been used for that purpose before now--but it could hardly be
regarded as an assured basis for a recognised position in good society.
Jack. May I ask you then what you would advise me to do? I need hardly
say I would do anything in the world to ensure Gwendolen's happiness.
Lady Bracknell. I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing, to try and
acquire some relations as soon as possible, and to make a definite effort
to produce at any rate one parent, of either sex, before the season is
quite over.
Jack. Well, I don't see how I could possibly manage to do that. I can
produce the hand-bag at any moment. It is in my dressing-room at home. I
really think that should satisfy you, Lady Bracknell.
Lady Bracknell. Me, sir! What has it to do with me? You can hardly
imagine that I and Lord Bracknell would dream of allowing our only
daughter--a girl brought up with the utmost care--to marry into a cloak-
room, and form an alliance with a parcel? Good morning, Mr. Worthing!
[Lady Bracknell sweeps out in majestic indignation.]
