Original
Modern English
But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
But tell me, Lucetta, now that we’re alone, Would you advise me to fall in love?
Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
Yes, madam, as long as you don’t make a careless mistake.
Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
Of all the handsome gentlemen I meet every day Who speak with me, which one do you think is most worthy of love?
Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind According to my shallow simple skill.
Please repeat their names, and I’ll tell you what I think Based on my simple, limited knowledge.
What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
What do you think of the handsome Sir Eglamour?
As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine; But, were I you, he never should be mine.
He’s a well-spoken, neat, and fine knight; But if I were you, he would never be the one for me.
What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?
What do you think of the wealthy Mercatio?
Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.
He’s good in terms of his wealth; but as for him personally, he’s just okay.
What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?
What do you think of the noble Proteus?
Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
Oh my goodness! It’s shocking how foolish we can be!
How now! what means this passion at his name?
What’s this? Why do you react so strongly when you hear his name?
Pardon, dear madam: ’tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
Forgive me, dear madam: it’s a shame That I, an unworthy person like myself, Should speak so about such handsome gentlemen.
Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Why not say the same about Proteus, like the others?
Then thus: of many good I think him best.
Then, for this reason: of all the good ones, I think he’s the best.
Your reason?
Why do you think that?
I have no other, but a woman’s reason; I think him so because I think him so.
I have no other reason, just a woman’s reason; I think he’s the best because I think he is.
And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
And do you want me to give my love to him?
Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
Yes, if you thought your love wasn’t wasted.
Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me.
Why, he, out of all of them, has never made me feel anything.
Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
But I think, out of all of them, he loves you the most.
His little speaking shows his love but small.
His few words show that his love is weak.
Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.
The fire that is kept the closest burns the hottest.
They do not love that do not show their love.
People don’t love if they don’t show their love.
O, they love least that let men know their love.
Oh, they love the least who let others see their love.
I would I knew his mind.
I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Peruse this paper, madam.
Read this letter, madam.
’To Julia.’ Say, from whom?
"To Julia." Say, from whom is it?
That the contents will show.
The contents will tell you.
Say, say, who gave it thee?
Say, say, who gave it to you?
Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, Did in your name receive it: pardon the fault I pray.
Valentine’s servant; and I think it’s from Proteus. He wanted to give it to you, but since I was in the way, I took it in your name: forgive me for the mistake.
Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth? Now, trust me, ’tis an office of great worth And you an officer fit for the place. Or else return no more into my sight.
Now, by my modesty, what a fine messenger you are! Do you dare to carry love letters? To whisper and plot against my innocence? Honestly, it’s a job of great importance And you are a perfect person for it. Or else never come in front of me again.
To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
To argue for love deserves more reward than hate.
Will ye be gone?
Are you going to leave?
That you may ruminate.
So you can think about it.
And yet I would I had o’erlooked the letter: It were a shame to call her back again And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid, And would not force the letter to my view! Since maids, in modesty, say ’no’ to that Which they would have the profferer construe ’ay.’ Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse And presently all humbled kiss the rod! How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here! How angerly I taught my brow to frown, When inward joy enforced my heart to smile! My penance is to call Lucetta back And ask remission for my folly past. What ho! Lucetta!
And yet I wish I had not seen the letter: It would be embarrassing to call her back And ask her to forgive me for something I scolded her about. What a fool I am, knowing I’m a virgin, And yet I wouldn’t let the letter be seen! Since virgins, out of modesty, say "no" to things They secretly want the person to take as a "yes." Ugh, how strange and stubborn is this silly love That, like an angry baby, will scratch the nurse And then, immediately, meekly kiss the rod! How rudely I scolded Lucetta earlier, When secretly I wanted her here! How angrily I made my face frown, When deep down, my heart was smiling! My punishment is to call Lucetta back And ask for forgiveness for my past mistakes. Hello! Lucetta!
What would your ladyship?
What do you need, my lady?
Is’t near dinner-time?
Is it almost time for dinner?
I would it were, That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid.
I wish it were, So you could fill your stomach with food Instead of taking it out on your maid.
What is’t that you took up so gingerly?
What is it that you picked up so carefully?
Nothing.
Nothing.
Why didst thou stoop, then?
Then why did you bend down?
To take a paper up that I let fall.
To pick up a paper I dropped.
And is that paper nothing?
And is that paper nothing?
Nothing concerning me.
Nothing to do with me.
Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
Then leave it there for those who it matters to.
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns Unless it have a false interpeter.
Madam, it won’t stay where it belongs Unless it has a false interpreter.
Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
Someone who loves you must have written to you in verse.
That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. Give me a note: your ladyship can set.
I wish I could sing it, madam, to a melody. Give me a tune: you, madam, can set the music.
As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of ’Light o’ love.’
I’d prefer to avoid such little things as much as I can. It’s best to sing it to the tune of ’Light o’ love.’
It is too heavy for so light a tune.
It’s too heavy for such a light tune.
Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?
Heavy! Maybe it has some weight then?
Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
Yes, and it would be melodious if you sang it.
And why not you?
Then why can’t you sing it?
I cannot reach so high.
I can’t reach that high.
Let’s see your song. How now, minion!
Let me hear your song. What’s this, darling?
Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
Keep the tune, and you can sing it out: But still, I think I don’t like this tune.
You do not?
You don’t?
No, madam; it is too sharp.
No, madam; it’s too sharp.
You, minion, are too saucy.
You, darling, are too rude.
Nay, now you are too flat And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
No, now you are too flat And spoil the harmony with too harsh a counterpoint: There’s only a middle note missing to complete your song.
The mean is drown’d with your unruly bass.
The middle note is drowned out by your uncontrolled bass.
Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
Actually, I’m playing the bass for Proteus.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation!
This nonsense won’t trouble me anymore. Here’s a mess with all these protests!
Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me.
Go away, and leave the papers there: You’d only mess with them to make me angry.
She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased To be so anger’d with another letter.
She pretends to act surprised; but she’d actually be happier If she were this angry because of another letter.
Nay, would I were so anger’d with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! I’ll kiss each several paper for amends. Look, here is writ ’kind Julia.’ Unkind Julia! As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ ’love-wounded Proteus.’ Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal’d; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice or thrice was ’Proteus’ written down. Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away Till I have found each letter in the letter, Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock And throw it thence into the raging sea! Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, ’Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia:’ that I’ll tear away. And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it to his complaining names. Thus will I fold them one on another: Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
I wish I were angry about the same thing! Oh hateful hands, to tear such loving words! Cruel wasps, feeding on such sweet honey And killing the bees that made it with your stings! I’ll kiss each individual paper to make up for it. Look, here it says ‘kind Julia.’ Unkind Julia! As revenge for your ingratitude, I throw your name against the rough stones, Trampling it underfoot with my contempt. And here it says ‘love-wounded Proteus.’ Poor, wounded name! My heart will be your resting place Until your wound is completely healed; And thus I’ll soothe it with a healing kiss. But twice or three times, ‘Proteus’ was written here. Be calm, good wind, don’t blow any words away Until I find every letter in the letter, Except for my own name: let some storm carry it To a rough, dangerous cliff And throw it into the wild sea! Look, here his name is written twice in one line, ‘Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia’: I’ll tear this part out. But I won’t, since it’s so nicely Paired with his grieving names. So I’ll fold them together: Now kiss, embrace, argue, do whatever you want.
Madam, Dinner is ready, and your father stays.
Madam, Dinner is ready, and your father is waiting.
Well, let us go.
Alright, let’s go.
What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
What, should these papers just stay here like gossip?
If you respect them, best to take them up.
If you care about them, you’d better pick them up.
Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
No, I was caught for putting them down: But they won’t lie here, they might catch a cold.
I see you have a month’s mind to them.
I see you have a real desire to keep them.
Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Yes, madam, you can say whatever you like; I see things too, even though you think I’m blind.
Come, come; will’t please you go?
Come on, come on; will you please go?