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When a man’s servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, ’thus I would teach a dog.’ I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon’s leg: O, ’tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for’t; sure as I live, he had suffered for’t; you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemanlike dogs under the duke’s table: he had not been there--bless the mark!--a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. ’Out with the dog!’ says one: ’What cur is that?’ says another: ’Whip him out’ says the third: ’Hang him up’ says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: ’Friend,’ quoth I, ’you mean to whip the dog?’ ’Ay, marry, do I,’ quoth he. ’You do him the more wrong,’ quoth I; ’’twas I did the thing you wot of.’ He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, I’ll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for’t. Thou thinkest not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg and make water against a gentlewoman’s farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?
When a man’s servant behaves like a dog with him, it’s hard to bear: one I raised from a pup; one I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind siblings drowned. I taught him just as you would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him as a gift to Mistress Silvia from my master; and as soon as I walked into the dining room, he jumps onto her plate and steals the leg of her capon. Oh, it’s a disgrace when a dog can’t behave in polite company! I would have preferred, as people say, that a dog be a dog in every way. If I didn’t have more sense than him, to take the blame for something he did, I truly think he would have been hanged for it; I swear he would’ve suffered for it. You’ll see. He threw himself among three or four gentlemanly dogs under the duke’s table. He hadn’t been there—a second, I swear—before the whole room smelled him. “Get the dog out!” says one. “What dog is that?” says another. “Whip him out!” says the third. “Hang him!” says the duke. I, having smelled that scent before, knew it was Crab, and went to the guy who whips the dogs. “Friend,” I said, “you’re going to whip the dog?” “Yes, I am,” he said. “You’re doing him an injustice,” I said; “I’m the one who did the thing you’re talking about.” He didn’t argue with me, just whipped me out of the room. How many masters would do that for their servant? I swear, I’ve been put in the stocks for puddings he stole, or else he would’ve been executed. I’ve stood in the pillory for geese he killed, or else he would’ve suffered for it. You don’t think about these things now. I still remember the trick you played on me when I said goodbye to Madam Silvia: didn’t I tell you to watch me and do as I do? When did you see me raise my leg and pee against a lady’s skirt? Did you ever see me do such a thing?
Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well And will employ thee in some service presently.
Is your name Sebastian? I like you and will give you a job right now.
In what you please: I’ll do what I can.
Whatever you want: I’ll do my best.
I hope thou wilt.
I hope you will.
How now, you whoreson peasant! Where have you been these two days loitering?
What’s this, you good-for-nothing peasant? Where have you been these two days, slacking off?
Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
Well, sir, I delivered the dog to Mistress Silvia as you asked.
And what says she to my little jewel?
And what did she say about my little jewel?
Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present.
Well, she said your dog was a mutt, and told you that a mutt’s thanks are good enough for such a gift.
But she received my dog?
But she got my dog?
No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him back again.
No, not at all: I’ve brought him back again.
What, didst thou offer her this from me?
What, did you give her this from me?
Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the market-place: and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.
Yes, sir: the other squirrel was taken from me by the kids in the marketplace: so I gave her mine, who’s a dog as big as ten of yours, and so the gift is even better.
Go get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne’er return again into my sight. Away, I say! stay’st thou to vex me here?
Go get out of here, and find my dog again, Or never come back into my sight. Go, I say! Are you still here to annoy me?
A slave, that still an end turns me to shame! Sebastian, I have entertained thee, Partly that I have need of such a youth That can with some discretion do my business, For ’tis no trusting to yond foolish lout, But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior, Which, if my augury deceive me not, Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth: Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently and take this ring with thee, Deliver it to Madam Silvia: She loved me well deliver’d it to me.
A servant who always ends up making me look bad! Sebastian, I’ve hired you, Partly because I need a young man Who can handle my business with some sense, Because I can’t trust that foolish idiot, But mostly for your face and your manners, Which, if my judgment is right, Show you were well brought up, with fortune and truth: So know this, I hired you for this. Go right away and take this ring with you, Give it to Madam Silvia: She loved me and gave it to me.
It seems you loved not her, to leave her token. She is dead, belike?
It seems you didn’t love her, since you left her token. Is she dead, perhaps?
Not so; I think she lives.
Not at all; I think she’s alive.
Alas!
Oh dear!
Why dost thou cry ’alas’?
Why do you say "oh dear"?
I cannot choose But pity her.
I can’t help it But feel sorry for her.
Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
Why should you feel sorry for her?
Because methinks that she loved you as well As you do love your lady Silvia: She dreams of him that has forgot her love; You dote on her that cares not for your love. ’Tis pity love should be so contrary; And thinking of it makes me cry ’alas!’
Because it seems to me that she loved you as much As you love your lady Silvia: She dreams of the man who’s forgotten her love; You’re obsessed with the woman who doesn’t care about your love. It’s a shame love should be so unfair; And thinking about it makes me say "oh dear!"
Well, give her that ring and therewithal This letter. That’s her chamber. Tell my lady I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary.
Well, give her that ring and also This letter. That’s her room. Tell my lady I claim the promise for her beautiful portrait. Once your message is done, hurry back to my room, Where you’ll find me, sad and alone.
How many women would do such a message? Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain’d A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him That with his very heart despiseth me? Because he loves her, he despiseth me; Because I love him I must pity him. This ring I gave him when he parted from me, To bind him to remember my good will; And now am I, unhappy messenger, To plead for that which I would not obtain, To carry that which I would have refused, To praise his faith which I would have dispraised. I am my master’s true-confirmed love; But cannot be true servant to my master, Unless I prove false traitor to myself. Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
How many women would do such a thing? Poor Proteus! you’ve let in a trickster to lead your innocent heart. Poor fool! why do I feel sorry for him When he hates me so much? Because he loves her, he hates me; Because I love him, I must feel sorry for him. This ring I gave him when he left me, To make sure he remembers my good intentions; And now I, the unlucky messenger, Must beg for what I don’t want, Carry what I would have refused, Praise his loyalty which I would have criticized. I am my master’s true, confirmed love; But I can’t truly serve him, Unless I betray myself. Yet I will try to win her for him, but so coldly That, God knows, I don’t want him to succeed.
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
Good day, madam! Please, could you help me Get to a place where I can speak with Madam Silvia?
What would you with her, if that I be she?
What do you want with her, if I am she?
If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
If you are she, I ask for your patience To hear the message I’ve been sent with.
From whom?
From whom?
From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
O, he sends you for a picture.
Oh, he’s sent you for a picture.
Ay, madam.
Yes, madam.
Ursula, bring my picture here. Go give your master this: tell him from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Ursula, bring my picture here. Go give your master this: tell him from me, That one Julia, who has forgotten his fickle heart, Would suit his room better than this image.
Madam, please you peruse this letter.-- Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised Deliver’d you a paper that I should not: This is the letter to your ladyship.
Madam, please look at this letter.-- Forgive me, madam; I’ve mistakenly Given you a letter I shouldn’t have: This is the correct letter for you.
I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Please, let me see that again.
It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
I can’t do that; please, madam, forgive me.
There, hold! I will not look upon your master’s lines: I know they are stuff’d with protestations And full of new-found oaths; which he will break As easily as I do tear his paper.
Here, take it! I won’t look at your master’s letter: I know they’re full of empty promises And new oaths that he’ll break As easily as I tear this paper.
Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Madam, he sends you this ring.
The more shame for him that he sends it me; For I have heard him say a thousand times His Julia gave it him at his departure. Though his false finger have profaned the ring, Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
The more shame for him that he sends it to me; For I’ve heard him say a thousand times That his Julia gave it to him when he left. Though his unfaithful finger has defiled the ring, Mine won’t do his Julia that same dishonor.
She thanks you.
She thanks you.
What say’st thou?
What do you say?
I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.
I thank you, madam, for helping her. Poor woman! my master treats her badly.
Dost thou know her?
Do you know her?
Almost as well as I do know myself: To think upon her woes I do protest That I have wept a hundred several times.
Almost as well as I know myself: Just thinking about her troubles, I swear I’ve cried a hundred times for her.
Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.
She probably thinks that Proteus has abandoned her.
I think she doth; and that’s her cause of sorrow.
I think she does; and that’s why she’s so sad.
Is she not passing fair?
Isn’t she very beautiful?
She hath been fairer, madam, than she is: When she did think my master loved her well, She, in my judgment, was as fair as you: But since she did neglect her looking-glass And threw her sun-expelling mask away, The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks And pinch’d the lily-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I.
She used to be more beautiful, madam, than she is now: When she thought my master loved her, she was, in my opinion, as beautiful as you: But since she stopped paying attention to her reflection And threw away her sun-blocking mask, The air has drained the color from her cheeks And faded the white of her face, So now she’s as dark as I am.
How tall was she?
How tall was she?
About my stature; for at Pentecost, When all our pageants of delight were play’d, Our youth got me to play the woman’s part, And I was trimm’d in Madam Julia’s gown, Which served me as fit, by all men’s judgments, As if the garment had been made for me: Therefore I know she is about my height. And at that time I made her weep agood, For I did play a lamentable part: Madam, ’twas Ariadne passioning For Theseus’ perjury and unjust flight; Which I so lively acted with my tears That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
About my height; for at Pentecost, When all our performances of joy were done, The young men got me to play the woman’s role, And I wore Madam Julia’s gown, Which fit me as well, by everyone’s opinion, As if it had been made just for me: So I know she’s about my height. And at that time I made her cry a lot, Because I played a really sad part: Madam, it was Ariadne grieving Over Theseus’ broken promise and unjust desertion; I acted it so vividly with my tears That my poor mistress, moved by it, Wept bitterly; and I would rather be dead If I didn’t feel her pain in my heart!
She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! I weep myself to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou lovest her. Farewell.
She owes you a lot, kind youth. Poor lady, all alone and abandoned! I cry myself just thinking about what you said. Here, young man, take my purse; I give it to you For your sweet mistress’ sake, because you love her. Goodbye.
And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. Alas, how love can trifle with itself! Here is her picture: let me see; I think, If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers: And yet the painter flatter’d her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: If that be all the difference in his love, I’ll get me such a colour’d periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine: Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high. What should it be that he respects in her But I can make respective in myself, If this fond Love were not a blinded god? Come, shadow, come and take this shadow up, For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, loved and adored! And, were there sense in his idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake, That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes To make my master out of love with thee!
And she’ll thank you for it, if you ever meet her. A virtuous lady, gentle and beautiful. I hope my master’s pursuit of her won’t be serious, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. Alas, how love can fool itself! Here’s her picture: let me see; I think, If I had such a headdress, this face of mine Would be just as lovely as hers: And yet the artist flattered her a bit, Unless I’m flattering myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect blonde: If that’s the only difference in his love, I’ll get myself a wig in that color. Her eyes are grey like glass, and so are mine: Yes, but her forehead’s low, and mine is high. What could it be that he admires in her That I couldn’t have in myself, If this foolish Love weren’t a blind god? Come, shadow, come and take this shadow away, For it’s your rival. Oh, senseless form, You’ll be worshipped, kissed, loved and adored! And if there were sense in his idolizing, My body would be the statue in your place. I’ll treat you kindly for your mistress’ sake, The one who treated me so; or else, by Jove, I swear, I’d have scratched out your unseeing eyes To make my master stop loving you!