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Modern English
Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes; and ’diluculo surgere,’ thou know’st,--
Come here, Sir Andrew: not being in bed after midnight is like getting up early; and ‘dawn, you know,’
Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late is to be up late.
No, I swear, I don’t know that: but I do know that staying up late means staying up late.
A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements?
That’s a wrong conclusion: I hate it, like an empty barrel. Staying up after midnight and then going to bed is actually going to bed early: so going to bed after midnight is like going to bed early. Don’t our lives consist of the four elements?
Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Well, that’s what they say; but I think life is more about eating and drinking.
Thou’rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!
You’re a scholar; so let’s eat and drink. Marian, I say! Bring us a cup of wine!
Here comes the fool, i’ faith.
Here comes the fool, seriously.
How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture of ’we three’?
Hey, my friends! Have you never seen the picture of ’we three’?
Welcome, ass. Now let’s have a catch.
Welcome, idiot. Now let’s sing a song.
By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: ’twas very good, i’ faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it?
Honestly, the fool has a great chest. I would rather have such a leg and sweet breath to sing, than forty shillings. Seriously, you were great at fooling last night, when you talked about Pigrogromitus, and the Vapians passing the equinox of Queubus: that was really good, seriously. I sent you sixpence for your girlfriend: did you get it?
I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio’s nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
I did take your money; because Malvolio’s nose is not a whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons aren’t just bars for cheap beer.
Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
Excellent! Now, this is the best kind of joking. Now, let’s hear a song.
Come on; there is sixpence for you: let’s have a song.
Come on; here’s sixpence for you: let’s have a song.
There’s a testril of me too: if one knight give a--
I’ve got a testril too: if one knight gives a--
Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?
Would you like a love song, or a song about living well?
A love-song, a love-song.
A love song, a love song.
Ay, ay: I care not for good life.
Yeah, yeah: I don’t care about songs on living well.
[Sings] O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love’s coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know.
[Sings] Oh, my lady, where are you going? Oh, stay and listen; your true love is coming, Who can sing both high and low: Don’t go any further, sweet thing; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son knows this.
Excellent good, i’ faith.
Really good, seriously.
Good, good.
Good, good.
[Sings] What is love? ’tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
[Sings] What is love? It’s not something in the future; Right now, happiness brings laughter; What’s to come is still uncertain: If you wait too long, you get nothing; So come kiss me, young and twenty, Youth doesn’t last forever.
A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
A sweet-sounding voice, as I’m a true knight.
A contagious breath.
A stinky breath.
Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith.
Very sweet and stinky, indeed.
To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?
To hear with your nose, it sounds pleasant but contagious. But should we really make the sky dance? Should we wake the night-owl with a song that will scare three souls out of one weaver? Should we do that?
An you love me, let’s do’t: I am dog at a catch.
If you love me, let’s do it: I’m terrible at singing.
By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
By my lady, sir, and some dogs can sing well.
Most certain. Let our catch be, ’Thou knave.’
Absolutely. Let’s make our song ‘You fool.’
’Hold thy peace, thou knave,’ knight? I shall be constrained in’t to call thee knave, knight.
’Shut up, you fool,’ knight? I’ll be forced to call you a fool, knight.
’Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins ’Hold thy peace.’
This isn’t the first time I’ve made someone call me a fool. Start, fool: it begins with ‘Shut up.’
I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
I’ll never start if I keep quiet.
Good, i’ faith. Come, begin.
Good, indeed. Come on, start.
What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
What a horrible noise are you making here! If my lady hasn’t called her steward Malvolio and told him to throw you out, then never trust me.
My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and ’Three merry men be we.’ Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvally. Lady!
My lady’s a foreigner, we’re the politicians, Malvolio’s a fool, and ‘Three merry men are we.’ Am I not related to her? Am I not of her blood? Nonsense. Lady!
’There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!’
"There lived a man in Babylon, lady, lady!"
Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.
Damn me, the knight is really good at pretending to be a fool.
Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
Yeah, he does well enough if he’s in the right mood, and so do I: he does it more gracefully, but I do it more naturally.
[Sings] ’O, the twelfth day of December,’--
[Sings] "Oh, the twelfth day of December,"--
For the love o’ God, peace!
For God’s sake, be quiet!
My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
My masters, are you crazy? Or what are you? Do you have no sense, manners, or decency, that you’re talking like a bunch of tinkers at this hour? Are you turning my lady’s house into a tavern, yelling your silly songs with no care or remorse? Do you have no respect for the place, the people, or the time?
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
We did keep time, sir, in our songs. Shut up!
Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Sir Toby, I need to be blunt with you. My lady asked me to tell you that, even though she treats you like a relative, she doesn’t support your behavior. If you can separate yourself and your bad habits, you’re welcome to stay in the house; if not, and if you’d like to leave, she’ll be happy to say goodbye.
’Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.’
"Goodbye, dear heart, since I must leave."
Nay, good Sir Toby.
No, please, Sir Toby.
’His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
"His eyes show that his days are almost over."
Is’t even so?
Is that true?
’But I will never die.’
"But I will never die."
Sir Toby, there you lie.
Sir Toby, you’re lying.
This is much credit to you.
This really makes you look good.
’Shall I bid him go?’
’Should I tell him to leave?’
’What an if you do?’
’What if you do?’
’Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
’Should I tell him to leave, and not hold back?’
’O no, no, no, no, you dare not.’
’Oh no, no, no, no, you wouldn’t dare.’
Out o’ tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
’You’re off-key, sir: you’re lying. Are you anything more than a servant? Do you think just because you’re virtuous, there won’t be any more fun and drinks?’
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too.
’Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger will be spicy in the mouth too.’
Thou’rt i’ the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
’You’re right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A mug of wine, Maria!’
Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.
’Mistress Mary, if you valued my lady’s favour at all, you wouldn’t allow this rude behavior: she’ll hear of this, I swear.’
Go shake your ears.
’Go shake your ears.’
’Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man’s a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him.
’It would be as pointless as drinking when you’re hungry, to challenge him to a duel, then break your promise and make a fool of him.’
Do’t, knight: I’ll write thee a challenge: or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
’Do it, knight: I’ll write you a challenge, or I’ll pass on your anger to him in person.’
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the youth of the count’s was today with thy lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
’Sweet Sir Toby, be patient tonight: since the young count was with your lady today, she’s been very upset. As for Monsieur Malvolio, leave him to me: if I don’t trick him into saying "no", and turn him into a laughingstock, don’t think I have enough wit to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.’
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
’Go ahead, tell us about him.’
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
’Well, sometimes he’s a bit of a puritan.’
O, if I thought that I’ld beat him like a dog!
’Oh, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog!’
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?
What, because you’re a puritan? Your brilliant reason, dear knight?
I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.
I don’t have a brilliant reason for it, but I’ve got a good enough reason.
The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.
He’s not a puritan at all, or anything consistent, just someone who flatters others; a ridiculous fool, who memorizes things without understanding and spits them out like a parrot: he’s so sure of himself, thinking he’s full of virtues, that he believes everyone who looks at him must love him; and on that flaw in him, my revenge will find a perfect reason to act.
What wilt thou do?
What will you do?
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.
I’ll drop some secret love letters in his path; where, based on the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the way he walks, the expression of his eye, forehead, and skin, he’ll see himself represented perfectly. I can write very similarly to your niece, my lady: we can barely tell our handwriting apart on an old letter.
Excellent! I smell a device.
Brilliant! I smell a plan.
I have’t in my nose too.
I can sense it too.
He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she’s in love with him.
He’ll think the letters you drop come from my niece, and that she’s in love with him.
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
That’s exactly my plan.
And your horse now would make him an ass.
And your plan will make him look like an idiot.
Ass, I doubt not.
Idiot, I have no doubt.
O, ’twill be admirable!
Oh, it’ll be wonderful!
Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
A royal laugh, I promise you: I know my trick will work on him. I’ll set you both up, and let the fool join in, where he’ll find the letter: watch how he reacts to it. For tonight, to bed, and dream about the outcome. Goodbye.
Good night, Penthesilea.
Good night, Penthesilea.
Before me, she’s a good wench.
She’s a good woman, really.
She’s a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: what o’ that?
She’s a purebred dog, a beagle, and one who really likes me: so what?
I was adored once too.
I was loved once too.
Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.
Let’s go to bed, knight. You’ll need to ask for more money.
If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
If I can’t win your niece’s love, I’m in deep trouble.
Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i’ the end, call me cut.
Ask for money, knight: if you don’t get her in the end, call me a fool.
If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
If I don’t, you can never trust me, no matter what happens.
Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack; ’tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
Come on, come on, I’ll go drink some wine; it’s too late to go to bed now: come on, knight; come on, knight.