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No Fear Translations
No Fear Audio
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Original Text |
Modern Text |
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Enter ORSINO , VIOLA , CURIO , and others
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Enter ORSINO , VIOLA , CURIO , and others
|
|
ORSINO Give me some music. (music plays)
Now, good morrow, friends.—
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
5 Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
|
ORSINO Give me some music. (music plays)
Now, good morrow, friends.—
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
|
|
CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
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CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
|
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ORSINO 10 Who was it?
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ORSINO Who was it?
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CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
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CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
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ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
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ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
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Exit CURIO . Music plays
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Exit CURIO . Music plays
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(to VIOLA) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
15 In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am, all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
|
(to VIOLA) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am, all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
|
|
VIOLA 20 It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.
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VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.
|
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ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.
My life upon ’t, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay’d upon some favor that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
|
ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.
My life upon ’t, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay’d upon some favor that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
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|
VIOLA A little, by your favor.
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VIOLA A little, by your favor.
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ORSINO 25 What kind of woman is’t?
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ORSINO What kind of woman is’t?
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VIOLA Of your complexion.
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VIOLA Of your complexion.
|
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ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
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ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
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VIOLA About your years, my lord.
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VIOLA About your years, my lord.
|
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ORSINO Too old by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself. So wears she to him,
30 So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
|
ORSINO Too old by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself. So wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
|
|
VIOLA I think it well, my lord.
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VIOLA I think it well, my lord.
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ORSINO 35 Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
|
ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
|
|
VIOLA And so they are. Alas, that they are so,
40 To die even when they to perfection grow!
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VIOLA And so they are. Alas, that they are so,
To die even when they to perfection grow!
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Enter CURIO and FOOL
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Enter CURIO and FOOL
|
|
ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
45 Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
|
ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
|
|
FOOL Are you ready, sir?
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FOOL Are you ready, sir?
|
|
ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing.
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ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing.
|
|
Music
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Music
|
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FOOL (sings)
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown.
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
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FOOL (sings)
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown.
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
|
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ORSINO (giving money) There’s for thy pains.
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ORSINO (giving money) There’s for thy pains.
|
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FOOL No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
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FOOL No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
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ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
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ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
|
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FOOL Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
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FOOL Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
|
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ORSINO 70 Give me now leave to leave thee.
|
ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee.
|
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FOOL Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
|
FOOL Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
|
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Exit
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Exit
|
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ORSINO Let all the rest give place.
|
ORSINO Let all the rest give place.
|
|
CURIO and attendants retire
|
CURIO and attendants retire
|
|
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
80 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
|
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
|
|
VIOLA 85 But if she cannot love you, sir?
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VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir?
|
|
ORSINO I cannot be so answer’d.
|
ORSINO I cannot be so answer’d.
|
|
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
90 You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
|
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
|
|
ORSINO There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart. No woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
95 Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
100 Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
|
ORSINO There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart. No woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
|
|
VIOLA Ay, but I know—
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VIOLA Ay, but I know—
|
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ORSINO What dost thou know?
|
ORSINO What dost thou know?
|
|
VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe.
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
105 My father had a daughter loved a man
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
|
VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe.
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
|
|
ORSINO And what’s her history?
|
ORSINO And what’s her history?
|
|
VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
110 Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
115 Our shows are more than will, for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
|
VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
Our shows are more than will, for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
|
|
ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
|
ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
|
|
VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
And all the brothers too—and yet I know not.
120 Sir, shall I to this lady?
|
VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
And all the brothers too—and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this lady?
|
|
ORSINO Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(he hands her a jewel)
|
ORSINO Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(he hands her a jewel)
|
|
Exeunt
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Exeunt
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Original Text |
Modern Text |
|
Enter ORSINO , VIOLA , CURIO , and others
|
Enter ORSINO , VIOLA , CURIO , and others
|
|
ORSINO Give me some music. (music plays)
Now, good morrow, friends.—
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
5 Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
|
ORSINO Give me some music. (music plays)
Now, good morrow, friends.—
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
|
|
CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
|
CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
|
|
ORSINO 10 Who was it?
|
ORSINO Who was it?
|
|
CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
|
CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
|
|
ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
|
ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
|
|
Exit CURIO . Music plays
|
Exit CURIO . Music plays
|
|
(to VIOLA) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
15 In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am, all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
|
(to VIOLA) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am, all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
|
|
VIOLA 20 It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.
|
VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.
|
|
ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.
My life upon ’t, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay’d upon some favor that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
|
ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.
My life upon ’t, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay’d upon some favor that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
|
|
VIOLA A little, by your favor.
|
VIOLA A little, by your favor.
|
|
ORSINO 25 What kind of woman is’t?
|
ORSINO What kind of woman is’t?
|
|
VIOLA Of your complexion.
|
VIOLA Of your complexion.
|
|
ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
|
ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
|
|
VIOLA About your years, my lord.
|
VIOLA About your years, my lord.
|
|
ORSINO Too old by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself. So wears she to him,
30 So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
|
ORSINO Too old by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself. So wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
|
|
VIOLA I think it well, my lord.
|
VIOLA I think it well, my lord.
|
|
ORSINO 35 Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
|
ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
|
|
VIOLA And so they are. Alas, that they are so,
40 To die even when they to perfection grow!
|
VIOLA And so they are. Alas, that they are so,
To die even when they to perfection grow!
|
|
Enter CURIO and FOOL
|
Enter CURIO and FOOL
|
|
ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
45 Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
|
ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
|
|
FOOL Are you ready, sir?
|
FOOL Are you ready, sir?
|
|
ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing.
|
ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing.
|
|
Music
|
Music
|
|
FOOL (sings)
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown.
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
|
FOOL (sings)
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown.
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
|
|
ORSINO (giving money) There’s for thy pains.
|
ORSINO (giving money) There’s for thy pains.
|
|
FOOL No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
|
FOOL No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
|
|
ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
|
ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
|
|
FOOL Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
|
FOOL Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
|
|
ORSINO 70 Give me now leave to leave thee.
|
ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee.
|
|
FOOL Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
|
FOOL Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
|
|
Exit
|
Exit
|
|
ORSINO Let all the rest give place.
|
ORSINO Let all the rest give place.
|
|
CURIO and attendants retire
|
CURIO and attendants retire
|
|
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
80 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
|
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
|
|
VIOLA 85 But if she cannot love you, sir?
|
VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir?
|
|
ORSINO I cannot be so answer’d.
|
ORSINO I cannot be so answer’d.
|
|
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
90 You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
|
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
|
|
ORSINO There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart. No woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
95 Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
100 Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
|
ORSINO There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart. No woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
|
|
VIOLA Ay, but I know—
|
VIOLA Ay, but I know—
|
|
ORSINO What dost thou know?
|
ORSINO What dost thou know?
|
|
VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe.
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
105 My father had a daughter loved a man
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
|
VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe.
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
|
|
ORSINO And what’s her history?
|
ORSINO And what’s her history?
|
|
VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
110 Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
115 Our shows are more than will, for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
|
VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
Our shows are more than will, for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
|
|
ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
|
ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
|
|
VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
And all the brothers too—and yet I know not.
120 Sir, shall I to this lady?
|
VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
And all the brothers too—and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this lady?
|
|
ORSINO Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(he hands her a jewel)
|
ORSINO Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(he hands her a jewel)
|
|
Exeunt
|
Exeunt
|
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