The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 222
JAQUES
I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to
sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos?
I don’t want you to please me; I want you to
sing. Come on, just one more sstanza – are they called stanzas?
AMIENS
What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
You can call them whatever you want, Monsieur Jacques.
JAQUES
Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me
nothing. Will you sing?
No, I don’t care to know their names. They don’t owe me
anything. Will you sing?
AMIENS
More at your request than to please myself.
Only because you are asking for it, and not out of pleasure.
JAQUES
Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you;
but that they call compliment is like the encounter
of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily,
methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me
the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will
not, hold your tongues.
Then if I ever thank someone, I thank you most.
But to compliment another man is awkward, like
two baboons meeting – when another man thanks me,
I feel like I have given him a penny and that he has
become a beggar. Now, sing, and whoever will
not sing, be quiet.
AMIENS
Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the
duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all
this day to look you.
Well, I will finish the song. Men, while I am doing this, set the table, since
the duke will drink under this tree. He has been
looking all day for you, Jacques.
JAQUES
And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is
too disputable for my company: I think of as many
matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no
boast of them. Come, warble, come.
And I have been avoiding him all day. He is
too argumentative for me. I think about as many
things as he does, but I give thanks for the thoughts, and do not
talk about them in front of others. Come, sing for me.
Everyone sings
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Whoever shuns ambition
and loves to live in the sun,
hunting for food to eat
and happy with whatever he finds,
come here, come here, come here.
Here there are no enemies
except winter and rough weather.
JAQUES
I'll give you a verse to this note that I made
yesterday in despite of my invention.
I will give you a verse to sing to this tune that I made up
yesterday, though it is not too imaginative.
AMIENS
And I'll sing it.
I’ll sing it.
JAQUES
Thus it goes:--
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.
It goes like this:
If it comes to pass
that a man becomes an ass,
leaving his wealth and ease of life
because he wants to please his stubborn will,
ducdame, ducdame, ducdame.
Here he will see
fools as disgusting as he is,
as long as he will come to me.
AMIENS
What's that 'ducdame'?
What does “ducdame” mean?
JAQUES
'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a
circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll
rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
It is a Greek word used to call fools into a
circle. I will go to sleep if I can – if I can’t, I’ll
yell at all of the first-born in Egypt.
AMIENS
And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared.
I will go look for the duke, his banquet is ready.
Exeunt severally
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM
ADAM
Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food!
Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell,
kind master.
Master, I can’t go further. O I am dying of hunger!
Here will I lie in order to measure a plot for my grave. Goodbye,
kind master.
ORLANDO
Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live
a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little.
If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I
will either be food for it or bring it for food to
thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at
the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently;
and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will
give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I
come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said!
thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly.
Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear
thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for
lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this
desert. Cheerly, good Adam!
Well now, Adam! Do you have no greater strength than this? Live
a little, be comforted a little, and cheer up a little.
If any savage thing comes from this rude forest, I
will either become its food , or I will bring it as food for
you. You think you are nearer to death that you reall are.
For my sake, be comfortable. Keep death at
an arm’s length away and I will be back soon.
If I do not bring you anything to eat, then you
will have permission to die, but if you die before I
return, you are mocking my hard work. There!
You look well, and I will be back wuickly.
But, right now you lie in the open air. Come and I will carry
you to shelter. You will not die from
hunger, as long as there is something living in this
deserted place. Be happy, good Adam!
Exeunt
A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and Lords like outlaws
DUKE SENIOR
I think he be transform'd into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.
I think he must have transformed into an animal
because I cannot find him as a man anywhere I look.
First Lord
My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
My lord, he left only recently.
He was here, happy, listening to a song.
DUKE SENIOR
If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
If he, packed tight with conflict, becomes musical,
than there will be something wrong in the heavens.
Go and find him, and tell him that I wish to speak with him.
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Enter JAQUES
First Lord
He saves my labour by his own approach.
I don’t have to, since he has come on his own.
DUKE SENIOR
Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily!
How are you, monsieur! What kind of life is this
when your poor friends have to beg you for your company?
You look happy!
JAQUES
A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
A fool! I met a clown in the forest
wearing his motley costume. What a miserable world!
As surely as I eat food to live, I met a clown
who laid himself down to bask in the sun
and cursed Lady Fortune jokingly,
in clever words, though still surely a clown.
“Good day, fool,” I said. “No, sir,” he replied,
“Do not call me a fool until heaven has sent me a fortune.”
Then he pulled a watch from his bag
and, looking on it with a dim eye,
said wisely, “It is ten o’clock:
and thus we can see how the world moves.
Only an hour ago it was nine,
and an hour later it will be eleven.
And so on, from hour to hour, we grow and we ripen,
and then, from hour to hour, we get old, and we rot,
and there is a story to that.” When I heard
this motley wearing fool moralize time,
I crowed and laughed like a rooster,
that clowns should be so contemplative.
I laughed without pause
an hour by his watch. O noble fool!
A worthy clown! Motley is the only thing he should wear.
DUKE SENIOR
What fool is this?
What fool is this?
JAQUES
O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
A worthy one! He used to be a courtier
and said “If ladies are young and beautiful,
they always know it.” In his brain,
which is dry like a biscuit
on a ship and thus not impressed by much, are strange facts
and crammed in observations, which he speaks
in twisted ways. O if I were a clown!
DUKE SENIOR
Thou shalt have one.
You could be one.
JAQUES
It is my only suit;
Provided that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
The 'why' is plain as way to parish church:
He that a fool doth very wisely hit
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.
That is my only case,
as long as then you remove any judgments
and opinions that you have
that I am wise. I must have freedom,
as much as the wind gets,
to blow on and mock whomever I please, just as clowns may.
They that are most offended by my jokes
must laugh hardest. And why is that?
Well that is as plain as the path to a small country church:
whoever a fool wisely makes fun of
would be acting very foolishly, though otherwise smart,
if he didn’t act like the joke didn’t affect him. If he didn’t,
then the foolish action of the wise man would be seen and scrutinized
by even the silly work of the clown.
Give me a motley costume, and give me permission
to speak my mind, and I will, through and through
clean the sick body of the infections surrounding it,
as long as my patients will patiently take the medicine I give them.
DUKE SENIOR
Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Curse you! I know what you would do.
JAQUES
What, for a counter, would I do but good?
What would I do except good things?
DUKE SENIOR
Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores and headed evils,
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
A most evil, disgusting sin, by rebuking sin.
You yourself have been a rake and a lecher,
as lustful as the sting of lust itself.
And now, all of the diseased sores and evils
that you in your freedom caught,
you want to find in others in the whole world.
JAQUES
Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the weary very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function
That says his bravery is not of my cost,
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any
man. But who comes here?
But, if I speak out against pride,
am I singling out some individual?
Or rather does pride flow as greatly as the sea itself,
until it wearily reaches the very edges of the sea?
What woman in the city have I named
when I say that the city-woman wears
clothes that cost princely amounts on her unworthy shoulders?
Who can come to me and say that I am talking about her
when her neighbors are just like she is?
And who is that base coward
who says that his bravery is not my concern,
thinking that I talk about him: doesn’t he claim
his own foolishness by thinking that I do?
Well, then how? And now what? Show me where
I have spoken wrong of him. If my words end up rebuking him,
then he was wrong in the first place, and if he is free from such rebuke,
then my words fly away like wild geese,
owned by no man. Who is it that is coming?
Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn
ORLANDO
Forbear, and eat no more.
Stop, and don’t eat anything more.
JAQUES
Why, I have eat none yet.
But I have not eaten anything yet.
ORLANDO
Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
And you won’t, until what I need is served.
JAQUES
Of what kind should this cock come of?
What kind of fighting rooster is this?
DUKE SENIOR
Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress,
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
Is your boldness from distress
or because you are a rude man who despises good manners,
that you seem so lacking of politeness.