Twelfth Night, Act 4, Scene 1

Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?

Are you going to make me believe I wasn't sent to fetch you?

Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow. Let me be clear of thee.

Enough, enough, you're a foolish fellow. Leave me alone.

Well held out, i’ faith! No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so, is so.

Well kept up, honestly! No, I don't know you, and I wasn't sent to you by my lady to ask you to come and speak with her; and your name isn't Master Cesario; and this isn't my nose either. Nothing that is so, is so.

I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else, Thou know’st not me.

Please, let out your foolishness somewhere else. You don't know me.

Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I vent to her that thou art coming?

"Let out my foolishness"! He's heard that word from some great man, and now he applies it to a fool. "Let out my foolishness"! I'm afraid this great clumsy oaf, the world, will turn out to be a spoiled city boy. Please now, unfasten this strangeness of yours and tell me what I should let out to my lady. Shall I let out to her that you're coming?

I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me. There’s money for thee; if you tarry longer I shall give worse payment.

Please, foolish Greek, get away from me. There's money for you; if you stay any longer I'll pay you in something worse.

By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report—after fourteen years’ purchase.

On my word, you have a generous hand. These wise men who give fools money earn themselves a good reputation—after paying fourteen years' worth for it.

Now sir, have I met you again? There’s for you.

Now sir, have I found you again? Take that.

Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?

Why then, take that for yourself, and that, and that. Is everybody mad?

Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house.

Stop, sir, or I'll throw your dagger over the house.

This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for twopence.

I'll go tell my lady this right away. I wouldn't be in some of your coats for twopence.

Come on, sir, hold!

Come on, sir, stop!

Nay, let him alone, I’ll go another way to work with him. I’ll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for that.

No, leave him alone, I'll deal with him another way. I'll bring a charge of assault against him, if there's any law in Illyria. Even though I hit him first, that doesn't matter.

Let go thy hand!

Let go of my hand!

Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed. Come on.

Come, sir, I won't let you go. Come, my young soldier, put away your blade: you've had your fill of blood. Come on.

I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword.

I will get free of you. What do you want now? If you dare provoke me any further, draw your sword.

What, what? Nay, then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

What's this? Well then, I must take an ounce or two of this impudent blood out of you.

Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee hold!

Stop, Toby! On your life I order you to stop!

Madam.

Madam.

Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne’er were preach’d! Out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. Rudesby, be gone!

Will it always be like this? You graceless wretch, fit only for the mountains and the savage caves, where good manners were never taught! Get out of my sight! Don't be offended, dear Cesario. Brute, get out!

I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch’d up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go. Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine, in thee.

Please, gentle friend, let your good sense, not your anger, govern you in this rude and unjust attack on your peace. Come with me to my house, and there you'll hear how many pointless pranks this ruffian has cobbled together, so that you can smile at this one. You can't do anything but come. Don't refuse. Curse his soul for my sake—he startled one poor heart of mine, the one that's in you.

What relish is in this? How runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

What is the taste of this? Which way is the current running? Either I'm mad, or else this is a dream. Let imagination go on steeping my senses in Lethe; if dreaming is like this, let me go on sleeping!

Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou’dst be ruled by me!

No, come, please. I wish you would let me guide you!

Madam, I will.

Madam, I will.

O, say so, and so be!

Oh, say it, and let it be so!