The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 230
The rest shall bear this burden
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born:
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it:
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
What should be given to him who killed the dear?
His leather skin and his horns to wear.
Then sing for him as he goes home.
Don’t be ashamed to wear the horn,
it was worn before you were born:
your father’s father wore it,
and your father brought it with him:
the horn, the horn, the good horn,
is not a thing to laugh at and mock.
Exeunt
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA
ROSALIND
How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and
here much Orlando!
What do you think now? Isn’t it past two o’clock? And
I see Orlando everywhere!
CELIA
I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he
hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to
sleep. Look, who comes here.
I bet that with his pure love and worried mind, he
took his bow and arrows and went out to
sleep. Look, someone coming.
Enter SILVIUS
SILVIUS
My errand is to you, fair youth;
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
I know not the contents; but, as I guess
By the stern brow and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenor: pardon me:
I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Pretty youth, I have been tasked to find you:
my gentle Phebe asked me to give you this.
I don’t know the contents, but I would guess,
from the stern forehead and her wasplike movements
that she had while writing it,
that it is an angry letter. Excuse me from this,
I am a blameless messenger.
ROSALIND
Patience herself would startle at this letter
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,
Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.
Patience herself would be startled reading this letter,
and would fight back. I must bear it all:
she says I am not attractive, that I lack manners,
that I am proud, and that she would not love me
even if men were as rare as phoenix birds. By God!
I am not hunting after her love,
why does she write this to me? Shepherd,
I think you wrote this letter.
SILVIUS
No, I protest, I know not the contents:
Phebe did write it.
No, honestly. I don’t know what it says;
Phebe wrote it.
ROSALIND
Come, come, you are a fool
And turn'd into the extremity of love.
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand.
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands:
She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter:
I say she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention and his hand.
Come on, you are a fool
and have done extreme things because of love.
I saw her hand, she has a rough hand,
brown in color – in fact I thought
that she was wearing gloves, but they were her hands.
She has housewife’s hands, but that doesn’t matter:
I say she never wrote this letter,
and that it is the invention of a man and his hand.
SILVIUS
Sure, it is hers.
Certainly it is hers.
ROSALIND
Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style.
A style for-challengers; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
It is written in such a boisterous and cruel style –
like she wants a challenger. She challenges me
like a Turk does a Christian. A woman’s gentle brain
could not have dropped such rude words,
such black words, blacker in meaning
than in their words even. Will you hear it?
SILVIUS
So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
If you would like; I haven’t heard it yet,
though I have heard a lot of Phebe’s cruelty.
ROSALIND
She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.
She acts like herself to me, now. Listen how she writes.
Reads
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?
Can a woman rail thus?
“Are you a god turned into a shepherd,
that you know how to burn my heart?”
Can a woman rail like this?
SILVIUS
Call you this railing?
You think this is railing?
ROSALIND
[Reads]
Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect!
Whiles you chid me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move!
He that brings this love to thee
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I'll study how to die.
“Why have you set aside your divinity
in order to war with a woman’s heart?”
Have you heard such railing?
“When the eyes of other men wooed me,
they did nothing to hurt me.”
Meaning I am a beast.
“If the scorn coming from your bright eyes
has the power to make me feel love,
then what awful effects
would come from you looking kindly at me!
While you rebuke me, I love you –
how much more powerfully would your prayers move me!
He that brings this love letter to you
does not know of my love for you
so send your reply by him.
Tell me whether your youth and beauty
can take my faithful offer
giving you me and everything I can,
or else tell him that you deny my love
so that I can prepare to die.”
SILVIUS
Call you this chiding?
You call this a cruel letter?
CELIA
Alas, poor shepherd!
How saw, poor shepherd!
ROSALIND
Do you pity him? no, he deserves no
pity. Wilt
thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an
instrument and play false strains upon thee! not to
be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see
love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to
her: that if she love me, I charge her to love
thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless
thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover,
hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
You pity him? He does not deserve pity. Why
would you love such a woman? In order to make you into an
instrument so she can play her own songs on you? That should not
be endured! Go back to her, for I see
that your love has made you into her own tame pet, and tell
her: if she loves me, then I say she should love
you. If she will not love you, then I will never have her unless
you beg me to take her. If you are a true lover
then go without speaking. More people are coming.
Exit SILVIUS
Enter OLIVER
OLIVER
Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees?
Good morning, pretty ones. Can you tell me, if you know,
where in this forest stands
a shepherd’s cottage, fenced with olive trees?
CELIA
West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom:
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
There's none within.
It is west of this place, down in the next valley.
The willows by the murmuring stream
on your right will take you to the house.
At this time, though, the house is empty
and no one is there.
OLIVER
If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description;
Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner than her brother.' Are not you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?
If seeing something can be aided by hearing something,
then I think I know you from a description I heard
of your clothes and years: “The boy is pretty,
like a woman, and carries himself
like a mature sister: the woman is shorter
and darker than her brother.” Aren’t you
the owners of the house I am asking about?
CELIA
It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
Since you ask, it is not boasting to say that we are.
OLIVER
Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
Orland sends his regards to you both
and to whomever he calls Rosalind,
he sends this bloody handkerchief. Are you him?
ROSALIND
I am: what must we understand by this?
I am, what does this mean?
OLIVER
Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd.
It means some shame of mine, if you will listen to me say
who I am, and how, and why, and where
this handkerchief was stained.
CELIA
I pray you, tell it.
Please, tell us.
OLIVER
When last the young Orlando parted from you
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself:
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
When Orlando last left you,
he promised to return
in an hour, and, walking through the forest,
thinking through sweet and bitter thoughts of love,
what happened! He looked aside
and saw a certain object:
underneath an oak tree, whose boughs were covered with moss,
and whose top branches were old from age,
a wretchedly ragged man, with hair grown out and unkempt,
was sleeping on his back. Around his neck
a green and gold snake had wound itself
and with her nimble head, she threatened him
by moving towards his open mouth. All of a sudden
it saw Orlando and unwound itself,
gliding away
into the bushes. But under that bush’s shade
a lioness, its udders dry from nearby lion cubs,
was resting with its head on the ground, watching closely
to see if the resting man would move – it is
the royal character of the lion
to prey on nothing that looks dead.
Orlando saw the lioness and approached the man,
discovering that it was his older brother.
CELIA
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That lived amongst men.
He has spoken of that brother,
whom he described as the most inhumane man
who lived among men.
OLIVER
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
He was right to do so,
since I know just how inhumane he was.
ROSALIND
But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
But as for Orlando: did he leave him there
to be food for the cubs and the lioness?
OLIVER
Twice did he turn his back and purposed so;
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked.
He turned away twice with the goal of doing that,
but his kindness was more noble than revenge,
and his nature was stronger than his justice,
so he fought the lioness
who quickly fell in front of him: and in that noise
I woke from my miserable slumber.
CELIA
Are you his brother?
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND
Wast you he rescued?
Were you rescued?
CELIA
> Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
Was it you who tried to kill him so often?
OLIVER
'Twas I; but 'tis not I I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
It was I, but it is not still I. I am not ashamed
to tell you who I was, since I have converted,
which tastes much better, to the thing I am now.
ROSALIND
But, for the bloody napkin?
And what about the bloody handkerchief?
OLIVER
By and by.
When from the first to last betwixt us two
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that desert place:--
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin
Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
I’m getting there.
When we told each other what had happened between us,
we cried over our stories,
like how I came to this deserted place.
Then he led me to the gentle duke here,
who gave me fresh clothing and food,
and committed me to my brother’s love.