Original
Modern English
Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by thy tabour?
Hello, friend, and your music: do you make a living from playing that drum?
No, sir, I live by the church.
No, sir, I make a living by working at the church.
Art thou a churchman?
Are you a churchman?
No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
No, not exactly, sir: I live by the church because my house is near the church.
So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
So you could say the king sleeps next to a beggar, if a beggar lives near him; or, the church is next to your drum, if your drum is next to the church.
You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
You’re right, sir. To think of this age! A sentence is like a leather glove on a clever person: how easily it can be turned inside out!
Nay, that’s certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
Yes, that’s true; people who play around with words can quickly make them misleading.
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
I wish my sister hadn’t had a name, sir.
Why, man?
Why, man?
Why, sir, her name’s a word; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
Well, sir, her name is just a word, and playing with that word could make my sister behave inappropriately. But really, words have become so dishonest since contracts lost their value.
Thy reason, man?
What’s your reasoning, man?
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
Honestly, sir, I can’t give you any reason without using words, and words have become so untrustworthy, I’m reluctant to argue with them.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
I bet you’re a happy guy and don’t care about anything.
Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
Not really, sir, I do care about something; but honestly, sir, I don’t care about you. If that’s what you mean by caring for nothing, sir, then I wish that would make you disappear.
Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?
Aren’t you the Lady Olivia’s fool?
No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings; the husband’s the bigger: I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
No, actually, sir; Lady Olivia isn’t foolish: she won’t keep a fool, sir, until she’s married; and fools are as much like husbands as pilchards are to herrings; the husband is the bigger one. I’m not really her fool, I’m her corrupter of words.
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.
I saw you recently at Count Orsino’s.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
Foolishness, sir, goes around the world like the sun, it shines everywhere. I’d be sorry, sir, if the fool was as often with your master as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. Hold, there’s expenses for thee.
No, if you trick me again, I won’t deal with you. Here, take this money.
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
Now, may Jove, in his next supply of hair, send you a beard!
By my troth, I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick for one;
Honestly, I’ll tell you, I’m almost sick of wanting one;
though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?
though I wouldn’t want it to grow on my chin. Is your lady inside?
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Wouldn’t a pair of these have been created, sir?
Yes, being kept together and put to use.
Yes, if they were kept together and used properly.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
I understand you, sir; ’tis well begged.
I understand you, sir; well done.
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say ’element,’ but the word is over-worn.
I hope the matter isn’t too serious, sir, begging just being begging: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is inside, sir. I’ll explain to them where you come from; who you are and what you want is beyond my understanding, I could say ’element,’ but that word is outdated.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man’s art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.
This guy is smart enough to pretend to be an idiot; And to do that well, you need a certain kind of cleverness: He has to pay attention to the mood of the people he’s joking with, The type of people they are, and the timing, And, like a wild hawk, check every little thing That comes into his view. This is a task As full of work as a wise man’s craft. Because the foolishness he shows, done wisely, is appropriate; But wise men, caught in folly, completely ruin their wit.
Save you, gentleman.
Hello, gentlemen.
And you, sir.
Hello, sir.
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
God keep you, sir.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
And you too; I am at your service.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
I hope you’re well, sir, and I am yours.
Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Will you come inside? My niece would like you to come in, if your business is with her.
I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage.
I’m here because of your niece, sir; I mean, she’s the reason for my journey.
Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
Move your legs, sir; get them moving.
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
My legs know better what I’m doing, sir, than I understand what you mean by telling me to move my legs.
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
I mean, to go in, sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented.
I’ll respond to you with my walk and my entrance. But we are interrupted.
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!
How wonderful and graceful you are, lady, the heavens shower you with blessings!
That youth’s a rare courtier: ’Rain odours;’ well.
That young man’s a rare courtier: "Rain blessings;" well.
My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
I can’t speak for myself, so I leave it to your wise and kind ear.
’Odours,’ ’pregnant’ and ’vouchsafed:’ I’ll get ’em all three all ready.
"Odours," "pregnant," and "vouchsafed": I’ll get all three ready.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
Shut the garden door, and let me listen to this.
Give me your hand, sir.
Give me your hand, sir.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
My respects, madam, and my most humble service.
What is your name?
What’s your name?
Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.
Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.
My servant, sir! ’Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was call’d compliment: You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
My servant, sir! It hasn’t been a happy world Since pretending to be humble became a form of courtesy: You’re a servant to Count Orsino, young man.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.
And he belongs to you, and what is his is yours: Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather than fill’d with me!
As for him, I don’t think about him: as for his thoughts, I wish they were empty, rather than filled with me!
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.
Madam, I come to make you think kindly of him On his behalf.
O, by your leave, I pray you, I bade you never speak again of him: But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres.
Oh, if you please, I beg you, I told you never to speak of him again: But, if you want to ask something else, I’d rather hear you speak about that Than listen to music from the heavens.
Dear lady,--
Dear lady,--
Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you: Under your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours: what might you think? Have you not set mine honour at the stake And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom, Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.
Please, let me finish. I sent, After the last magic you performed here, A ring in search of you: I used to deceive myself, My servant, and, I fear, you too: Under your harsh judgment, I must sit, To force that on you, with shameful trickery, Which you knew nothing about: what could you think? Have you not put my honour on the line And attacked it with all the unrestrained thoughts That a tyrant’s heart can think? For someone like you, Enough has been shown: a cypress tree, not a heart, Hides my feelings. So, let me hear you speak.
I pity you.
I feel sorry for you.
That’s a degree to love.
That’s a level of love.
No, not a grize; for ’tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.
No, not a mistake; because it’s a common thing, That we often feel pity for our enemies.
Why, then, methinks ’tis time to smile again. O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf!
Well, then, I think it’s time to smile again. Oh, how easy it is for the poor to become proud! If someone has to be a victim, it’s better To fall in front of a lion than a wolf!
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your were is alike to reap a proper man: There lies your way, due west.
The clock scolds me for wasting time. Don’t be afraid, young man, I won’t take you: But when youth and wit reach their peak, You’re just as likely to find a proper man: Your way lies to the west.
Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition Attend your ladyship! You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Then westward, here I go! May grace and good character Attend you, my lady! Don’t you want me to give any message to my lord for you?
Stay: I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
Wait: Please, tell me, what do you think of me?
That you do think you are not what you are.
That you think you are not who you really are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
If I think that, then I think the same of you.
Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Then you’re right to think that: I’m not who I am.
I would you were as I would have you be!
I wish you were the person I want you to be!
Would it be better, madam, than I am? I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
Would it be better, madam, if I were? I wish it were, because right now I’m your fool.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid: love’s night is noon. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
Oh, how much scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger on his face! A guilty murderer shows his guilt more quickly Than love that tries to hide itself: love’s night is like noon. Cesario, by the roses of spring, By maidenhood, honor, truth, and everything, I love you so much, that, despite all your pride, Neither wit nor reason can hide my passion. Don’t try to reason with me about this, Because I’m asking you, you have no excuse, But rather think of it this way: Love that is sought is good, but love given without being sought is better.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. And so adieu, good madam: never more Will I my master’s tears to you deplore.
I swear by my innocence, and by my youth, I have one heart, one chest, and one truth, And no woman has it; nor will anyone else Ever be its mistress, except for me alone. And so, goodbye, good madam: I will never again Bring my master’s tears to you.
Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
But come back again; for maybe you can change That heart, which now rejects him, to love his love.