The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 220
CELIA
I'll put myself in poor and mean attire
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you: so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.
Then I will dress myself in ugly clothing
And smudge my face with a dark brown color.
You do the same, and then we will be able to pass
without possible muggers noticing us.
ROSALIND
Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will--
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.
Wouldn’t it be better
if, because I am taller than average,
I dressed up like a man?
I can put a sword at my hip,
and a large spear in my hand. Then – even if in my heart
there is still the natural fear a woman has –
we will look warlike and will walk like a swagger,
like manly cowards do
who look outwardly differently than they feel inwardly.
CELIA
What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
What should I call you when you are a man?
ROSALIND
I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page;
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?
I will have a name just as good as Jove’s messenger,
so you should call me Ganymede.
What will I call you?
CELIA
Something that hath a reference to my state.
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Something that refers to my state, become a stranger from home:
don’t call me Celia, but Aliena.
ROSALIND
But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
Cousin, what if we tried to take
the jester away from your father’s court?
Wouldn’t he be a comfort for us while we travel?
CELIA
He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;
Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together,
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment.
He will go all over the world with me if I ask –
I will handle wooing him. Let’s go
and get out jewels and money together
and plan the best time and best path
to keep us from being pursued after
I run away from the court. Now we can go happily
towards our freedom, and not in banishment.
Exeunt
Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, like foresters
DUKE SENIOR
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
'This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
I would not change it.
Now, my friends and brothers in exile with me,
hasn’t the comparison with our old life made this one even better
than that in the royal courts? Aren’t these woods
safer and freer than life was there, where everyone was jealous?
Here, we only face the consequences from Adam’s sin:
the changing seasons, the coldness
and the icy cruelty of winter’s wind.
The wind blows and bites our bodies
until we hunch over to protect against the cold, but even then, I must smile and think,
“This is much different than the flattery of the courts: this wind is an advisor
that tells me exactly who I am.”
Adversity and hardship can have positives,
like an ugly, venomous toad
who is still fabled to have a jewel in his head.
Our life here is free from the public needs
and instead we can listen to trees, read the streams,
listen to sermons from stones, and find the good in everything.
I would not change our situation.
AMIENS
Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
You grace is blessed
that you can turn such bad fortune
into such a quiet and sweet lifestyle.
DUKE SENIOR
Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
Have their round haunches gored.
Should we go and hunt some deer?
Still, it does upset me that those poor spotted fools
who are the native citizens of this deserted city
should in their own homes
be gored with arrows in their sides.
First Lord
Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
Yes, my lord,
and sad Jacques cries over it.
He even swears that you do more usurping here
than your brother did when he banished you.
Today, the Lord of Amiens and myself
quietly came up behind him as he was laying
beneath an oak tree whose old root sticks out of the ground
near a stream that runs along the forest.
There, a poor, cornered stag,
hurt from a hunter’s bow and arrow,
had come to lay in pain – truly, my lord,
the damned animal groaned so loudly and heavily
that when it groaned
, it stretched its body
almost until it burst. Big round tears
fell down his innocent nose,
chasing after each other, as the hairy beast,
watched closely by sad Jacques,
stood close the edge of the stream
and filled it with its own tears.
DUKE SENIOR
But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
But did Jacques said anything?
He must have made a moral of the scene.
First Lord
O, yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream;
'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much:' then, being there alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends,
''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques,
'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
O yes, and he compared it to a thousand other things.
First he talked about the deer weeping into the stream
and said, “Poor deer, you testify
just like a human, giving more
to that which already has too much.” Then, on the deer being alone
and abandoned by his velvet furred friends,
said, “It is right for a miserable creature
to leave the company of its friends.” Immediately then a careless herd,
filled with pasture grass, jumped by him
but did not stop at all, and Jacques said, “Yes,
run on, you fat and ugly citizens:
that’s exactly what happens – why would you stop and look
at this poor and broken one here?”
In this way he angrily pierced
the body of the country, city, court,
and even our very lives by swearing that we
are usurpers and tryants
that frighten the animals and seek to kill them
in their own, native homes.
DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him in this contemplation?
Did you leave him as he was thinking this?
Second Lord
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
We did, my lord. We left as he was weeping and talking
about the also-crying deer.
DUKE SENIOR
Show me the place:
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.
Show me where he is.
I love to talk with him when he is sad like this
because he is full of things to say.
First Lord
I'll bring you to him straight.
I’ll bring you right to him.
Exeunt
`Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords
DUKE FREDERICK
Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be: some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
Is it possible that no one saw them?
That can’t be: some scoundrels in the court
must have consented to their plan and let it happen.
First Lord
I cannot hear of any that did see her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her abed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
I haven’t heard of anyone who saw her.
Her bedroom attendants
saw her go to bed, and early this morning
they found the bed empty, without their mistress in it.
Second Lord
My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
My lord, that mangy clown, whom so often
you laughed at, is also gone.
Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,
has confessed that she secretly overheard
your daughter and her cousin praise
the appearance and the movements of the wrestler
who recently overthrew the strong Charles.
She believes that wherever they have gone,
the young wrestler is in their company.
DUKE FREDERICK
Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither;
If he be absent, bring his brother to me;
I'll make him find him: do this suddenly,
And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.
Send someone to his brother and fetch that dandy Orlando here –
and if he is gone, bring Oliver to me.
I’ll make him find Orlando. Do this quickly,
and do not stop searching and investigating
until you bring back these foolish runaways.
Exeunt
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting
ORLANDO
Who's there?
Who’s there?
ADAM
What, my young master? O, my gentle master!
O my sweet master! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!
My young, gentle master!
O my sweet master! You memory
of old Sir Rowland! What are you doing here?
Why are you so good and kind? Why do people love you?
Why are you so gentle, strong, and brave?
Why was it your desire to fight and overthrow
the fighter of the moody duke?
Your praise has come back against you.
Don’t you know, master, that for some men,
their graceful qualities become their own enemies?
The same thing happens with yours: your virtues, gentle master,
are, even though they are pure and holy, also traitors to you.
O what a world this is when the qualities that are pleasant and good
poison the one who has those qualities!
ORLANDO
Why, what's the matter?
What is the matter?
ADAM
O unhappy youth!
Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother--no, no brother; yet the son--
Of him I was about to call his father--
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie
And you within it: if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practises.
This is no place; this house is but a butchery:
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
O unhappy youth!
Do not walk through these doors. Under this roof
lives the enemy of your goodness:
your brother, Oliver. –No, not your brother, but your father’s son –
no, not son either. I will not call him son
if that implies he is the son of your father.
Oliver has heard about the praises for you, and tonight he intends
to burn the house where you use to sleep
with you in it. And if that were to fail,
he would have other ways to kill you.
I overheard him and his plans.
This is no place for you. This house is a butchery:
hate it, fear it, and do not go into it.
ORLANDO
Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
But where, Adam, would you have me go?
ADAM
No matter whither, so you come not here.
It doesn’t matter where, just do not come here.
ORLANDO
What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Would you want me to go and beg for food?
Or take a well-used sword in order to make
a thief’s living by the side of the road?
This is all that is left for me to do, or else something I don’t know –