Twelfth Night, Act 3, Scene 4

I have sent after him. He says he’ll come; How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begg’d or borrow’d. I speak too loud.— Where’s Malvolio?—He is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes; Where is Malvolio?

I've sent a messenger after him. He says he'll come. How shall I entertain him? What shall I give him? Young men are more often bought than begged or borrowed. I'm speaking too loudly.— Where's Malvolio? He's serious and well-mannered, and he suits my circumstances well as a servant. Where is Malvolio?

He’s coming, madam: But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.

He's coming, madam, but in a very strange way. He's certainly possessed, madam.

Why, what’s the matter? Does he rave?

Why, what's the matter? Is he raving?

No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come, for sure the man is tainted in ’s wits.

No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your ladyship had better have some protection around you if he comes, because the man's wits are certainly infected.

Go call him hither. I’m as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.

Go and call him here. I'm as mad as he is, if sorrowful madness and cheerful madness are the same.

How now, Malvolio?

Well, Malvolio?

Sweet lady, ho, ho!

Sweet lady, ho, ho!

Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Are you smiling? I sent for you about a sad matter.

Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering. But what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: ‘Please one and please all.’

Sad, lady? I could be sad: this cross-gartering does block the blood a bit. But what of that? If it pleases one person's eye, then for me it's like the perfectly true song says: 'Please one and please all.'

Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?

Why, how are you, man? What's the matter with you?

Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Not black in my mind, though yellow on my legs. It did reach his hands, and the commands shall be carried out. I think we do recognize that lovely Italian handwriting.

Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Will you go to bed, Malvolio?

To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll come to thee.

To bed? Yes, sweetheart, and I'll come to you.

God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?

God comfort you! Why do you smile like that, and kiss your hand so often?

How do you, Malvolio?

How are you, Malvolio?

At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!

At your request? Yes — nightingales answer jackdaws!

Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Why do you show up in front of my lady with this ridiculous nerve?

‘Be not afraid of greatness.’ ’Twas well writ.

'Don't be afraid of greatness.' That was well written.

What mean’st thou by that, Malvolio?

What do you mean by that, Malvolio?

‘Some are born great’—

'Some are born great'—

Ha?

What?

‘Some achieve greatness’—

'Some achieve greatness'—

What say’st thou?

What are you saying?

‘And some have greatness thrust upon them.’

'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'

Heaven restore thee!

Heaven cure you!

‘Remember who commended thy yellow stockings’—

'Remember who praised your yellow stockings'—

Thy yellow stockings?

Your yellow stockings?

‘And wished to see thee cross-gartered.’

'And wished to see you cross-gartered.'

Cross-gartered?

Cross-gartered?

‘Go to: thou art made, if thou desir’st to be so:’—

'Come on: your fortune is made, if you want it to be'—

Am I made?

Is my fortune made?

‘If not, let me see thee a servant still.’

'If not, let me go on seeing you a servant.'

Why, this is very midsummer madness.

Why, this is complete midsummer madness.

Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned; I could hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyship’s pleasure.

Madam, the Count Orsino's young gentleman has come back. I could hardly persuade him to return. He's waiting for your ladyship's pleasure.

I’ll come to him.

I'll go to him.

Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry.

Good Maria, see that this fellow is taken care of. Where's my cousin Toby? Have some of my people take special care of him. I wouldn't have him come to harm for half my dowry.

O ho, do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me. This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. ‘Cast thy humble slough,’ says she; ‘be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants, let thy tongue tang with arguments of state, put thyself into the trick of singularity,’ and consequently, sets down the manner how: as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her, but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, ‘Let this fellow be looked to;’ ‘Fellow!’ not ‘Malvolio’, nor after my degree, but ‘fellow’. Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance. What can be said? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Oh ho, are you getting close to my level now? No one lower than Sir Toby to look after me! This agrees exactly with the letter: she sends him on purpose so that I can behave stubbornly toward him, because she urges me to that in the letter. 'Throw off your humble skin,' she says; 'be contrary with a relative, rude with servants, let your tongue ring with talk of politics, take on the style of an unusual man,' and then she goes on to set out the way to do it: a serious face, a dignified bearing, slow speech, dressed like some gentleman of importance, and so on. I've caught her like a bird in lime, but it's Jove's doing, and may Jove make me thankful! And when she went away just now: 'See that this fellow is taken care of.' 'Fellow!' Not 'Malvolio', not by my rank, but 'fellow'. Why, everything fits together, so that there isn't a grain of a doubt, not a doubt of a doubt, no obstacle, no unbelievable or risky circumstance. What can be said against it? Nothing that exists can come between me and the full view of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the one who has done this, and he is the one to thank.

Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I’ll speak to him.

Which way is he, in the name of everything holy? Even if all the devils of hell were shrunk down into a small space, and Legion himself possessed him, I'll still speak to him.

Here he is, here he is. How is’t with you, sir? How is’t with you, man?

Here he is, here he is. How are you, sir? How are you, man?

Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. Go off.

Go away, I dismiss you. Let me enjoy my privacy. Go away.

Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! Did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him.

Listen, how hollowly the devil speaks inside him! Didn't I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady begs you to take care of him.

Ah, ha! does she so?

Ah, ha! Does she indeed?

Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently with him. Let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? How is’t with you? What, man! defy the devil! Consider, he’s an enemy to mankind.

Come on, come on; quiet, quiet, we must handle him gently. Leave him to me. How are you, Malvolio? How are you doing? Come now, man! Defy the devil! Remember, he's an enemy of mankind.

Do you know what you say?

Do you know what you're saying?

La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched.

There, you see — if you speak badly of the devil, how he takes it to heart! I pray to God he isn't bewitched.

Carry his water to th’ wise woman.

Take a sample of his urine to the wise woman.

Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll say.

Indeed, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I'm alive. My lady wouldn't lose him for more than I care to say.

How now, mistress!

What's this, young woman!

O Lord!

Oh Lord!

Prithee hold thy peace, this is not the way. Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.

Please be quiet, this isn't the way. Don't you see you're upsetting him? Leave him to me.

No way but gentleness, gently, gently. The fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.

Gentleness is the only way — gently, gently. The devil is rough, and won't be treated roughly.

Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck?

Well now, my fine bird? How are you, my chick?

Sir!

Sir!

Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man, ’tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!

Yes, chicken, come with me. Come now, man, it's not right for a dignified man to play pitch-the-cherry-stone with Satan. To hell with him, the filthy coal-man!

Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

My prayers, minx?

My prayers, you hussy?

No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.

No, I promise you, he won't hear anything about religion.

Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element. You shall know more hereafter.

Go and hang yourselves, all of you! You're worthless, shallow creatures. I'm not of your world. You'll learn more later on.

Is’t possible?

Is it possible?

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

If this were being performed on a stage right now, I'd criticize it as an unbelievable made-up story.

His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

His very soul has caught the infection of our trick, man.

Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.

No, go after him now, in case the trick gets out into the air and spoils.

Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

Why, we'll drive him truly mad.

The house will be the quieter.

The house will be quieter for it.

Come, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s mad. We may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him, at which time we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see!

Come, we'll shut him in a dark room and tie him up. My niece already believes he's mad. We can keep it going this way for our own fun and his punishment, until our sport itself, worn out of breath, makes us take pity on him — and then we'll bring the trick to court and crown you as a discoverer of madmen. But look, look!

More matter for a May morning.

More entertainment for a May morning.

Here’s the challenge, read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t.

Here's the challenge — read it. I promise you there's vinegar and pepper in it.

Is’t so saucy?

Is it that sharp?

Ay, is’t, I warrant him. Do but read.

Yes, it is, I guarantee him that. Just read it.

Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.

Give it here. [He reads.] "Young man, whoever you are, you're nothing but a contemptible fellow."

Good, and valiant.

Good, and brave.

Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for’t.

"Don't wonder or puzzle in your mind about why I call you that, because I won't give you any reason for it."

A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law.

A good point, that keeps you safe from the law's blow.

Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.

"You come to visit the Lady Olivia, and in front of me she treats you kindly. But you lie in your throat — that's not the thing I'm challenging you for."

Very brief, and to exceeding good sense—less.

Very brief, and full of excellent sense — less.

I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me—

"I'll ambush you on your way home, and there, if you happen to kill me—"

Good.

Good.

Thou kill’st me like a rogue and a villain.

"—you kill me like a rogue and a villain."

Still you keep o’ th’ windy side of the law. Good.

You still keep on the windward side of the law. Good.

Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. I’ll give’t him.

"Goodbye, and may God have mercy on one of our souls! He may have mercy on mine, but my hope is better than that, so look out for yourself. Your friend, depending on how you treat him, and your sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek." If this letter doesn't move him, his legs can't. I'll give it to him.

You may have very fit occasion for’t. He is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.

You'll have a very suitable chance for it. He's in conversation with my lady right now, and will be leaving shortly.

Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw’st, swear horrible, for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away.

Go, Sir Andrew. Lie in wait for him for me at the corner of the orchard, like a sheriff's officer. The moment you see him, draw your sword, and as you draw, swear horribly — because it often happens that a terrible oath, delivered with a swaggering tone sharply snapped off, gives a man more credit for manhood than any actual proof would have earned him. Off you go.

Nay, let me alone for swearing.

Well, trust me for the swearing.

Now will not I deliver his letter, for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receive it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.

Now I won't deliver his letter, because the young gentleman's manner shows him to be intelligent and well brought up; his work as go-between for his lord and my niece confirms as much. So this letter, being so magnificently stupid, will cause the young man no terror at all. He'll see it comes from a blockhead. But, sir, I'll deliver his challenge by word of mouth, give Aguecheek a remarkable reputation for bravery, and drive the gentleman — since I know his youth will readily swallow it — into the most dreadful notion of his rage, skill, fury and recklessness. This will frighten them both so much that they'll kill each other with a look, like cockatrices.

Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take leave, and presently after him.

Here he comes with your niece. Leave them alone until he says goodbye, and then straight after him.

I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.

Meanwhile I'll think up some horrifying wording for a challenge.

I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary on’t: There’s something in me that reproves my fault: But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof.

I've said too much to a heart of stone, and laid my honour too carelessly upon it. There's something in me that rebukes my fault, but it's such a headstrong, powerful fault that it only laughs at rebuke.

With the same ’haviour that your passion bears Goes on my master’s griefs.

My master's sorrows behave exactly the way your passion does.

Here, wear this jewel for me, ’tis my picture. Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you. And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny, That honour sav’d, may upon asking give?

Here, wear this jewel for my sake — it's my portrait. Don't refuse it; it has no tongue to annoy you. And I beg you, come again tomorrow. What could you ask of me that I'd refuse, so long as it's something my honour allows me to give when asked?

Nothing but this, your true love for my master.

Nothing but this: your true love for my master.

How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you?

How can I honourably give him what I've already given to you?

I will acquit you.

I'll release you from the obligation.

Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well; A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

Well, come again tomorrow. Goodbye. A devil as lovely as you could carry my soul to hell.

Gentleman, God save thee.

Sir, God save you.

And you, sir.

And you, sir.

That defence thou hast, betake thee to’t. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not, but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.

Whatever defence you have, get to it. What sort of wrongs you've done him, I don't know, but the man who's waiting to intercept you, full of spite and bloody as a hunter, is waiting for you at the end of the orchard. Get your sword out of its sheath, be quick about getting ready, because your attacker is fast, skilled and deadly.

You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me. My remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man.

You're mistaken, sir. I'm certain no man has any quarrel with me. My memory is completely clear and free of any picture of an offence done to anyone.

You’ll find it otherwise, I assure you. Therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard, for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal.

You'll find it's otherwise, I assure you. So if you value your life at all, get on your guard, because your opponent has in him everything that youth, strength, skill and anger can supply a man with.

I pray you, sir, what is he?

Please, sir, who is he?

He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and bodies hath he divorced three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. Hob, nob is his word; give’t or take’t.

He's a knight, knighted with an unused rapier and for services on a carpet, but he's a devil in a private fight. He's divorced three souls from their bodies, and his fury at this moment is so unappeasable that nothing will satisfy him but the agonies of death and the grave. "Have at you" is his motto: give it or take it.

I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirk.

I'll go back into the house and ask the lady for an escort. I'm no fighter. I've heard of a kind of man who picks quarrels with others on purpose, to test their courage. Probably this is a man with that peculiarity.

Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him. Therefore on, or strip your sword stark naked, for meddle you must, that’s certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.

No, sir. His anger comes from a thoroughly adequate injury; so get going and give him what he wants. You shall not go back to the house unless you fight me instead — which you might as safely do as face him. So get on, or pull your sword out bare, because fight you must, that's certain, or swear never to wear a sword again.

This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

This is as rude as it is strange. I beg you, do me this kind service: find out from the knight what my offence against him is. It must be something from my carelessness, nothing I intended.

I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return.

I'll do that. Signior Fabian, stay with this gentleman until I get back.

Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

Please, sir, do you know anything about this business?

I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.

I know the knight is furious with you, to the point of a fight to the death, but nothing more about the details.

I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

I beg you, what kind of man is he?

Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him if I can.

Nothing about his appearance promises anything remarkable, if you judge him by his looks, compared with what you're likely to find when you test his courage. He is indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and deadly opponent you could possibly have found anywhere in Illyria. Will you walk over towards him? I'll make peace between you if I can.

I shall be much bound to you for’t. I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle.

I'd be very grateful to you for it. I'm the sort who'd rather go with sir priest than sir knight. I don't care who knows that much about my spirit.

Why, man, he’s a very devil. I have not seen such a firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hits the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Why, man, he's an absolute devil. I've never seen such a fighting fury. I had one exchange with him — rapier, scabbard and all — and he gives me the thrust with such a deadly move that there's no avoiding it; and on the return, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on. They say he's been fencing master to the Sophy.

Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with him.

Curse it, I'll have nothing to do with him.

Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Yes, but he won't be calmed down now. Fabian can hardly hold him back over there.

Plague on’t, an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I’ll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

Plague on it, if I'd thought he was brave and so clever with a sword, I'd have seen him damned before I'd have challenged him. Let him drop the matter, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

I’ll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on’t. This shall end without the perdition of souls. [Aside.] Marry, I’ll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

I'll put the offer to him. Stand here, put on a bold appearance. This will end without the loss of any souls. [Aside.] Indeed, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

[To Fabian.] I have his horse to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil.

[To Fabian.] I've got his horse in exchange for settling the quarrel. I've convinced him the young man is a devil.

He is as horribly conceited of him, and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

He has just as dreadful an idea of him, and he's panting and looking pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

There’s no remedy, sir, he will fight with you for’s oath sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of. Therefore, draw for the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you.

There's no help for it, sir, he'll fight you for the sake of his oath. Indeed, he's thought better of his quarrel, and he finds it now hardly worth mentioning. So draw, just to keep his vow going; he swears he won't hurt you.

[Aside.] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

[Aside.] May God defend me! A very little thing would make me tell them how far short of a man I am.

Give ground if you see him furious.

Give way if you see him getting furious.

Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy, the gentleman will for his honour’s sake have one bout with you. He cannot by the duello avoid it; but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on: to’t.

Come on, Sir Andrew, there's no help for it, the gentleman must have one bout with you for his honour's sake. By the rules of duelling he can't avoid it; but he's promised me, on his word as a gentleman and a soldier, that he won't hurt you. Come on, get to it.

[Draws.] Pray God he keep his oath!

[He draws his sword.] I pray to God he keeps his promise!

[Draws.] I do assure you ’tis against my will.

[She draws her sword.] I assure you, this is against my will.

Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me. If you offend him, I for him defy you.

Put your sword away. If this young gentleman has done you any wrong, I take the blame for it. If you wrong him, I challenge you on his behalf.

You, sir? Why, what are you?

You, sir? Why, who are you?

[Draws.] One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

[He draws his sword.] Someone, sir, who out of love for him dares to do more than you have heard him boast he will do.

[Draws.] Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

[He draws his sword.] Well, if you're taking his business on, I'm ready for you.

O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers.

Oh, good Sir Toby, stop! Here come the officers.

[To Antonio.] I’ll be with you anon.

[To Antonio.] I'll deal with you shortly.

[To Sir Andrew.] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.

[To Sir Andrew.] Please, sir, put your sword away, if you don't mind.

Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promised you, I’ll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and reins well.

Indeed I will, sir; and as for what I promised you, I'll be as good as my word. He'll carry you easily, and he answers well to the reins.

This is the man; do thy office.

This is the man; do your job.

Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino.

Antonio, I arrest you at the suit of Count Orsino.

You do mistake me, sir.

You're mistaking me for someone else, sir.

No, sir, no jot. I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.— Take him away, he knows I know him well.

No, sir, not in the slightest. I know your face well, even though you have no sailor's cap on your head now. Take him away — he knows that I know him well.

I must obey. This comes with seeking you; But there’s no remedy, I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz’d, But be of comfort.

I have to obey. This is what comes of looking for you. But there's no help for it, I'll answer the charge. What will you do? Now my need forces me to ask you for my purse. It pains me far more that I can't do anything for you than for what's happening to me. You look stunned, but take comfort.

Come, sir, away.

Come along, sir, let's go.

I must entreat of you some of that money.

I must beg you for some of that money.

What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have show’d me here, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I’ll lend you something. My having is not much; I’ll make division of my present with you. Hold, there’s half my coffer.

What money, sir? For the kind goodwill you've shown me here, and partly because of the trouble you're in now, out of my slender and meagre means I'll lend you something. My resources aren't large; I'll split what I have with you. Here, take half my funds.

Will you deny me now? Is’t possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you.

Will you disown me now? Is it possible that what I've done to deserve your help carries no weight? Don't push me in my misery, in case it makes me so unsound a man as to reproach you with the kindnesses I've done for you.

I know of none, Nor know I you by voice or any feature. I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.

I know of none, and I don't recognise you by your voice or by anything about your face. I hate ingratitude in a man more than lying, vanity, empty chatter, drunkenness, or any other stain of vice whose powerful corruption lives in our weak blood.

O heavens themselves!

Oh, heavens above!

Come, sir, I pray you go.

Come, sir, please come along.

Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatch’d one half out of the jaws of death, Reliev’d him with such sanctity of love; And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

Let me speak a moment. This young man you see here I snatched half dead out of the jaws of death, and I cared for him with such a holy kind of love; and to his appearance, which I thought promised the most honourable worth, I gave my devotion.

What’s that to us? The time goes by. Away!

What's that to do with us? Time is passing. Away!

But O how vile an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there’s no blemish but the mind; None can be call’d deform’d but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o’erflourished by the devil.

But oh, what a worthless idol this god turns out to be! You, Sebastian, have put good looks to shame. In nature there's no flaw except in the mind; no one can be called deformed but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beautiful who are evil are empty chests, decorated on the outside by the devil.

The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir.

The man is going mad — take him away. Come on, come on, sir.

Lead me on.

Lead me away.

Methinks his words do from such passion fly That he believes himself; so do not I. Prove true, imagination, O prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!

It seems to me his words come pouring out with such feeling that he believes himself; I don't believe it yet. Come true, imagination, oh come true, so that I, dear brother, am now being taken for you!

Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian. We’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

Come over here, knight; come over here, Fabian. We'll murmur a line or two of the wisest proverbs to each other.

He nam’d Sebastian. I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even such and so In favour was my brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate. O if it prove, Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!

He said the name Sebastian. I know my brother is still alive in my mirror; my brother's face was exactly like this, and he always went about in this style, this colour, these trimmings, because it's him I'm copying. Oh, if this turns out to be true, then storms are kind, and salt waves are fresh with love!

A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.

A thoroughly dishonest, worthless boy, and more of a coward than a hare. His dishonesty shows in his leaving his friend here in need and disowning him; and as for his cowardice, ask Fabian.

A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

A coward, a most devoted coward, religious about it.

’Slid, I’ll after him again and beat him.

By God's eyelid, I'll go after him again and beat him.

Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

Do — box his ears soundly, but never draw your sword.

And I do not—

And if I don't—

Come, let’s see the event.

Come on, let's see what happens.

I dare lay any money ’twill be nothing yet.

I'll bet any amount of money that nothing will come of it after all.