Original
Modern English
Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus: Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Were’t not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour’d love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein, Even as I would when I to love begin.
Stop trying to convince me, my dear Proteus: Those who stay at home are always a bit simple-minded. If love didn’t keep you tied down, To the sweet looks of your beloved, I’d rather ask for your company To see the wonders of the world outside, Than waste away at home like a lazy fool. But since you’re in love, stay in love and grow from it, Just like I will when I start loving someone.
Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu! Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: Wish me partaker in thy happiness When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger, If ever danger do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.
Are you leaving? Sweet Valentine, goodbye! Think of your Proteus when you see Something special on your travels: Wish me to share your happiness When you have good luck; and in your danger, If ever danger surrounds you, I’ll pray for you, Valentine, As I will always keep you in my thoughts.
And on a love-book pray for my success?
And pray for my success from a love book?
Upon some book I love I’ll pray for thee.
I’ll pray for you from a book that I love.
That’s on some shallow story of deep love: How young Leander cross’d the Hellespont.
That’s just some shallow love story: Like how young Leander swam across the Hellespont.
That’s a deep story of a deeper love: For he was more than over shoes in love.
That’s a deep story of a deeper love: Because he was totally in love.
’Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swum the Hellespont.
True, because you’re way too much in love, But you’ve never crossed the Hellespont.
Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
"Over the boots?" No, don’t make fun of me.
No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
No, I won’t, because it doesn’t suit you.
What?
What?
To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment’s mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; If lost, why then a grievous labour won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
To be in love, where contempt is paid with sighs; Shy looks with heartache; a fleeting moment’s joy With twenty sleepless, exhausting, boring nights: If somehow won, maybe it’s a losing prize; If lost, then it’s a painful effort wasted; Still, it’s a foolish thing bought with cleverness, Or else cleverness defeated by foolishness.
So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
So, based on what you’re saying, you’re calling me a fool.
So, by your circumstance, I fear you’ll prove.
So, based on what you’re saying, I think you’ll prove me right.
’Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love.
It’s love you’re criticizing: I’m not in love.
Love is your master, for he masters you: And he that is so yoked by a fool, Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
Love is your master, because he controls you: And someone who is led by a fool, Doesn’t seem to deserve to be called wise.
Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
But writers say that, just as in the sweetest flower The destructive worm lives, so too love Dwells in the finest minds of all.
And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn’d to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime And all the fair effects of future hopes. But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, That art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu! my father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d.
And writers say, just as the first bud Is eaten by the worm before it blooms, So love turns the young and promising mind Into foolishness, ruining it before it can fully grow, Destroying its potential even in its prime, And all the bright hopes for the future. But why waste time advising you, When you’re already a servant to foolish desire? Goodbye again! My father is waiting for me at the road To see me off on my journey.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
And I’ll take you there, Valentine.
Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. To Milan let me hear from thee by letters Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend; And likewise will visit thee with mine.
Sweet Proteus, no; let’s part here. Write me letters in Milan about your success in love, And what else is happening here while I’m away; And I’ll do the same for you.
All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
I hope all happiness comes to you in Milan!
As much to you at home! and so, farewell.
The same to you at home! And so, goodbye.
He after honour hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends to dignify them more, I leave myself, my friends and all, for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
He chases honor, I chase love: He leaves his friends to make them more important, I leave everything, my friends and all, for love. You, Julia, have changed me, Made me neglect my studies, waste my time, Ignore good advice, disregard the world; Made my mind weak from thinking, my heart sick with longing.
Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master?
Sir Proteus, greetings! Did you see my master?
But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.
He just left, on his way to board a ship for Milan.
Twenty to one then he is shipp’d already, And I have play’d the sheep in losing him.
It’s very likely he’s already gone, And I’ve been foolish in losing him.
Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be a while away.
Actually, sheep do often wander off, Especially if the shepherd is gone for a bit.
You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?
So you’re saying my master is the shepherd, and I am the sheep?
I do.
Yes, that’s what I’m saying.
Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
Well then, his horns are mine, whether I’m awake or asleep.
A silly answer and fitting well a sheep.
That’s a silly response, and it suits a sheep.
This proves me still a sheep.
So this still makes me a sheep.
True; and thy master a shepherd.
True; and your master is the shepherd.
Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
No, I can prove that wrong with one example.
It shall go hard but I’ll prove it by another.
It won’t be hard to prove it another way.
The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore I am no sheep.
The shepherd looks for the sheep, not the other way around; but I look for my master, and he doesn’t look for me: so I am not a sheep.
The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for wages followest thy master; thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.
Sheep follow the shepherd for food; the shepherd doesn’t follow the sheep for food: you follow your master for pay; your master doesn’t follow you for pay: so you are a sheep.
Such another proof will make me cry ’baa.’
Another argument like that will make me bleat like a sheep.
But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia?
But, listen, did you give my letter to Julia?
Ay sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
Yes, sir: I, a lost sheep, gave your letter to her, a fancy lady, and she, a fancy lady, gave me, a lost sheep, nothing for my trouble.
Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
This is too small a place for so many sheep.
If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
If the ground is too wet, you’d better just stick her.
Nay: in that you are astray, ’twere best pound you.
No, you’re wrong; it’d be better to just lock you up.
Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.
No, sir, less than a pound is enough for carrying your letter.
You mistake; I mean the pound,--a pinfold.
You’re confused; I mean the pound—a jail.
From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over, ’Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
From a pound to a jail? Fold it up and fold it again, It’s three times too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
But what said she?
But what did she say?
[First nodding] Ay.
[First nodding] Yes.
Nod--Ay--why, that’s noddy.
Nod—yes—why, that’s just silly.
You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask me if she did nod; and I say, ’Ay.’
You’re mistaken, sir; I said she nodded: and you ask me if she nodded; and I said, ‘Yes.’
And that set together is noddy.
And putting that together, it’s just silly.
Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.
Now that you’ve bothered to put it together, you can have it as your reward.
No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.
No, no; you’ll get it for delivering the letter.
Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
Well, I see I’ll have to put up with you.
Why sir, how do you bear with me?
Why, sir, how are you putting up with me?
Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing but the word ’noddy’ for my pains.
Well, sir, the letter’s quite proper; and I have nothing but the word ‘silly’ for my trouble.
Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
Curse me, but you have a sharp mind.
And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
But your slow wallet can’t keep up with it.
Come come, open the matter in brief: what said she?
Come on, get to the point: what did she say?
Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered.
Open your wallet, so the money and the message can both be handed over at the same time.
Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
Alright, here’s something for your trouble. What did she say?
Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her.
Honestly, I don’t think you’ll win her over.
Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
Really? Could you tell that much from her?
Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones; for she’s as hard as steel.
No, sir, I couldn’t tell anything from her at all; not even a coin for delivering your letter. She was so cold with me that brought your message, I’m afraid she’ll be just as cold with you when you tell her how you feel. Don’t give her anything but stones, because she’s as hard as steel.
What said she? nothing?
What did she say? Nothing at all?
No, not so much as ’Take this for thy pains.’ To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I’ll commend you to my master.
No, not even “Take this for your trouble.” To show you’re generous, I thank you, you’ve paid me with a coin; in return, from now on, you carry your own letters. And with that, sir, I’ll leave you with my master.
Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, Being destined to a drier death on shore.
Go on, get out of here, to save your ship from sinking, It can’t go down as long as you’re on board, It’s fated to meet a worse end on land.
I must go send some better messenger: I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post.
I need to send someone better with my message. I’m afraid Julia won’t even look at my letters, if they come from such a worthless messenger.