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Modern English
No, faith, I’ll not stay a jot longer.
No, seriously, I won’t stay a minute longer.
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Come on, tell me why, my dear troublemaker, tell me why.
You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
You really must explain yourself, Sir Andrew.
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count’s serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw’t i’ the orchard.
Well, I saw your niece show more affection to the count’s servant than she ever showed me; I saw it in the orchard.
Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.
Did she see you while you were watching, old man? Tell me that.
As plain as I see you now.
As clearly as I see you right now.
This was a great argument of love in her toward you.
That was a strong sign of love from her towards you.
’Slight, will you make an ass o’ me?
Damn it, are you trying to make a fool out of me?
I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.
I’ll prove it’s true, sir, based on logic and reason.
And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah was a sailor.
And those have been trusted for ages, even before Noah was a sailor.
She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady’s opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
She only showed affection to that young man in front of you to annoy you, to wake up your lazy courage, to put fire in your heart and anger in your belly. You should have confronted her; with some clever jokes, fresh and new, you could have shut the young man up. This is what we expected from you, and you missed the chance: now you’ve ruined your chance with her and you’re hanging like a frozen icicle on a Dutchman’s beard. Unless you redeem yourself with some brave or smart action.
An’t be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.
If I’m going to do anything, it has to be with bravery; I can’t stand politics: I’d rather be a Brownist than a politician.
Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count’s youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s commendation with woman than report of valour.
Well, then, build your future on bravery. Challenge the count’s young man to a fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece will notice it; and trust me, no one can get a woman to think highly of a man more than the rumor of his bravery.
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
There’s no other way, Sir Andrew.
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
Will one of you take this challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou’st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set ’em down: go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.
Go, write it in a strong, military style; make it short and rude; it doesn’t matter if it’s clever, as long as it’s convincing and funny with insults: mock him with the power of your pen: if you call him names three times, it won’t be wrong; and write as many lies as you can fit on your piece of paper, even if the paper were as big as the town of Ware in England, write them down: go, do it. Make sure there’s enough bitterness in your ink, even if you write with a quill, it doesn’t matter: just do it.
Where shall I find you?
Where should I find you?
We’ll call thee at the cubiculo: go.
We’ll call you at the room: go.
This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
He’s an expensive fool to you, Sir Toby.
I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so.
I’ve been costly to him, lad, about two thousand strong, or so.
We shall have a rare letter from him: but you’ll not deliver’t?
We’re going to get a hilarious letter from him: but you won’t actually deliver it?
Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of the anatomy.
Never trust me if I do; and by all means, get the boy to respond. I think even oxen and ropes couldn’t drag them together. For Andrew, if he were cut open, and you found even a drop of blood in his liver that could clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of his insides.
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
And his opposite, the boy, shows no signs of cruelty in his face.
Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.
Look, here comes the youngest little thing of all.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He’s in yellow stockings.
If you want to laugh and be in stitches, follow me. That fool Malvolio has turned into a total hypocrite, a complete traitor; no Christian who truly believes can accept such absurd ideas as he does. He’s wearing yellow stockings.
And cross-gartered?
And is he cross-gartered?
Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i’ the church. I have dogged him, like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as ’tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do, he’ll smile and take’t for a great favour.
Most terribly; like a pedant who runs a school in a church. I’ve followed him, like a hunter after his prey. He’s obeying every part of the letter I gave him to trick him: he’s smiling more than the new world map with the added Indies: you’ve never seen anything like it. I can hardly stop myself from throwing things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she does, he’ll smile and think it’s a great favor.
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
Come, take us, take us to where he is.