Original
Modern English
Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you?
Hurry up, good Audrey: I’ll go get your goats, Audrey. And how about it, Audrey? Am I the man for you yet? Does my plain appearance satisfy you?
Your features! Lord warrant us! what features!
Your appearance! Good heavens! What appearance?
I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
I’m here with you and your goats, just like the most unpredictable poet, the honest Ovid, was with the Goths.
[Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house!
[Aside] Oh, knowledge poorly used, worse than Jove in a thatched roof hut!
When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
When a man’s poetry can’t be understood, and a man’s good wit isn’t supported by the eager child called Understanding, it hits a man harder than a big bill in a small room. Honestly, I wish the gods had made you more poetic.
I do not know what ’poetical’ is: is it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing?
I don’t know what ’poetic’ means: is it being honest in deed and word? Is it something true?
No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign.
No, really; because the truest poetry is the most deceptive; and lovers are drawn to poetry, and what they swear in poetry can be said to be what lovers do—they pretend.
Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical?
So you wish the gods had made me poetic, then?
I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.
Yes, really; because you swear to me you’re honest: now, if you were a poet, I might have some hope that you’re pretending.
Would you not have me honest?
Wouldn’t you want me to be honest?
No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
No, honestly, unless you were ugly; because honesty combined with beauty is like having honey as a topping on sugar.
[Aside] A material fool!
[Aside] A complete fool!
Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.
Well, I’m not beautiful; so I pray the gods make me honest.
Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Honestly, to waste honesty on a dirty woman would be like putting good food into a dirty dish.
I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
I’m not a slut, though I’m thankful the gods made me dirty.
Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us.
Well, praise the gods for your dirtiness! Sluttiness might come later. But whatever happens, I’ll marry you, and to make that happen I’ve been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar from the next village, who promised to meet me here in the forest to marry us.
[Aside] I would fain see this meeting.
[Aside] I’d love to see this happen.
Well, the gods give us joy!
Well, may the gods bring us joy!
Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? C ourage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said, ’many a man knows no end of his goods:’ right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver.
Amen. A man with a fearful heart might hesitate in this situation, because here we have no church but the woods, no gathering but wild animals. But what’s it matter? Courage! Though horns are unpleasant, they’re necessary. It’s said that ‘many a man doesn’t know when to stop his wealth’: true, many men have big horns, and don’t know when to stop. Well, that’s the gift from his wife; it’s not his own earning. Horns? Yes, even so. Only poor men? No, no; the finest deer have them as big as the scoundrels. Is the single man therefore blessed? No: just as a walled town is more valuable than a village, so a married man’s forehead is more respected than a bachelor’s bare brow; and just as defense is better than no skill, so a horn is more valuable than none. Here comes Sir Oliver.
Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?
Sir Oliver Martext, it’s good to see you: will you marry us here under this tree, or should we go with you to your chapel?
Is there none here to give the woman?
Isn’t anyone here to give the woman away?
I will not take her on gift of any man.
I won’t take her from any man’s gift.
Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
Really, she must be given away, or the marriage isn’t legal.
[Advancing] Proceed, proceed I’ll give her.
[Advancing] Go ahead, go ahead, I’ll give her away.
Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t: how do you, sir? You are very well met: God ’ild you for your last company: I am very glad to see you: even a toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered.
Good evening, good Master What’s-his-name: how do you, sir? It’s great to see you: God bless you for your last company: I’m very happy to see you: here, have a little toy in hand, sir: no, please, keep your hat on.
Will you be married, motley?
Will you marry, fool?
As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
Just as the ox has his yoke, the horse his bit, and the falcon her bells, so man has his desires; and just as pigeons bill, so marriage would be nibbling.
And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp.
And will you, being a man of your status, marry under a bush like a beggar? Go to church and get a good priest who can tell you what marriage really is: this guy will just stick you together like he’s fixing furniture; then one of you will end up with a warped panel, like green wood.
[Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.
[Aside] I don’t think I’d be better off marrying him than someone else: he’s not likely to treat me well in marriage; and if the marriage doesn’t go well, it’ll be a good excuse for me to leave my wife later.
Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Come with me, and let me give you some advice.
’Come, sweet Audrey: We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,-- O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee: but,-- Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee.
Come on, sweet Audrey: We have to get married, or we’ll end up living in sin. Goodbye, good Master Oliver: not,– Oh sweet Oliver, Oh brave Oliver, Don’t leave me behind: but,– Go away, Leave, I say, I won’t marry you.
’Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling.
It doesn’t matter: none of these ridiculous fools are going to drive me away from my job.