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Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me; And even in kind love I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character’d and engraved, To lesson me and tell me some good mean How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.
Advice, Lucetta; kind girl, help me; And with love I beg you, You who are the place where all my thoughts Are clearly written and engraved, Teach me and tell me some good way How, with my honor, I can travel To my dear Proteus.
Alas, the way is wearisome and long!
Alas, the journey is long and tiring!
A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.
A true, devoted pilgrim isn’t tired of crossing countries with his weak steps; Much less should she who has Love’s wings to fly, And when the flight is to one so dear, To someone as perfect as Sir Proteus.
Better forbear till Proteus make return.
It’s better to wait until Proteus returns.
O, know’st thou not his looks are my soul’s food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
Oh, don’t you know his face is the food of my soul? Feel sorry for the emptiness I’ve suffered, From longing for that food for such a long time. If you only knew the deep feeling of love, You’d sooner try to start a fire with snow Than try to put out the fire of love with words.
I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, But qualify the fire’s extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
I’m not trying to put out your love’s fierce fire, But to calm its wild rage, So it doesn’t burn beyond the limits of reason.
The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns. The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamell’ed stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean. Then let me go and hinder not my course I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there I’ll rest, as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
The more you try to hold it in, the more it burns. The stream that gently flows, You know, when stopped, gets angry and rages; But when it’s free to flow, It makes beautiful sounds over the smooth stones, Gently touching every reed It passes on its journey, And winds its way with playful ease to the wild ocean. So let me go, don’t stop me, I’ll be as patient as a calm stream And turn each tired step into a game, Until the last step brings me to my love; And there I’ll rest, like a blessed soul After much struggle in the Elysian fields.
But in what habit will you go along?
But how will you dress for the journey?
Not like a woman; for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Not like a woman; I want to avoid The advances of lascivious men. Good Lucetta, dress me in clothes That would suit a well-regarded page.
Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
Well, then, your ladyship will have to cut your hair.
No, girl, I’ll knit it up in silken strings With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be.
No, girl, I’ll tie it up in silk threads With twenty true-love knots. Being fancy might suit a man Older than I’ll appear to be.
What fashion, madam shall I make your breeches?
What style, madam, should I make your breeches?
That fits as well as ’Tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale?’ Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.
That’s as silly as asking, “Tell me, good lord, What shape will you wear your hoop skirt in?” Just make them however you like, Lucetta.
You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
You’ll need them with a codpiece, madam.
Out, out, Lucetta! that would be ill-favour’d.
No, no, Lucetta! That would look awful.
A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin, Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.
A round pair of pants, madam, isn’t worth anything, Unless you have a codpiece to pin things on.
Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have What thou thinkest meet and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me, it will make me scandalized.
Lucetta, if you care about me, give me What you think is appropriate and proper. But tell me, girl, how will people view me For taking such an impulsive journey? I fear it will bring me shame.
If you think so, then stay at home and go not.
If you think so, then stay home and don’t go.
Nay, that I will not.
No, I won’t stay.
Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who’s displeased when you are gone: I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.
Then don’t worry about disgrace, just go. If Proteus approves of your journey when you return, It doesn’t matter who’s upset while you’re gone. I fear, though, he won’t be pleased with it.
That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears And instances of infinite of love Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
That’s the least of my worries, Lucetta: A thousand promises, an ocean of his tears, And countless examples of his endless love Assure me that I’ll be welcomed by my Proteus.
All these are servants to deceitful men.
All these are tricks used by deceitful men.
Base men, that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus’ birth His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
Cowardly men, who use them for such shameful purposes! But better stars must have guided Proteus’ birth. His words are like bonds, his oaths are like prophecies, His love is genuine, his thoughts are pure, His tears are sincere messages from his heart, His heart as far from lies as heaven is from earth.
Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him!
I pray heaven he proves to be so when you meet him!
Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong To bear a hard opinion of his truth: Only deserve my love by loving him; And presently go with me to my chamber, To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me upon my longing journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come, answer not, but to it presently! I am impatient of my tarriance.
Now, as you love me, don’t do him the injustice Of thinking badly of his loyalty: Just deserve my love by loving him; And come with me to my room right now, To make a list of what I need, To prepare for my long journey. Everything I own I leave in your hands, My possessions, my lands, my reputation; Just, in exchange for that, send me on my way. Come, don’t answer, just do it right away! I can’t stand waiting any longer.