Get this No Fear to go!
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20 |
SIR ANDREW
By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather
than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath
to sing, as the fool has.—(to the FOOL) In sooth, thou wast
in very gracious fooling last night when thou spokest of
Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of
Queubus. 'Twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for
thy leman. Hadst it?
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SIR ANDREW
I swear, this fool has an excellent singing voice. I’d give forty shillings to have his nice legs and his beautiful voice. (to the FOOL) Fool, you were very funny last night talking that astrological nonsense about Pigrogromitus and the Vapians passing the equinox of Queubus. Very amusing. I sent you some money to spend on your girlfriend. Did you get it?
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FOOL
I did impeticos thy gratillity, for Malvolio’s nose is no
whipstock. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons
are no bottle-ale houses.
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FOOL
I gave your little present to my girlfriend because you can’t get a grip on Malvolio’s nose to whip your horse with it. My girlfriend has beautiful white hands, and great warriors aren’t mom-and-pop diners, you know.
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SIR ANDREW
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when all is done.
Now, a song.
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SIR ANDREW
Ha, ha! I love it when you talk nonsense—that’s what fools should do. Come on now, sing for us.
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SIR TOBY BELCH
(giving money to the FOOL)
Come on. There is sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.
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SIR TOBY BELCH
(giving the FOOL money) Yes, come on. Here’s sixpence for you. Let’s hear a song.
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SIR ANDREW
(giving money to the FOOL)
There’s a testril of me too. If one knight give a—
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SIR ANDREW
(giving the FOOL money) Here’s something from me too. If one knight gives—
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FOOL
Would you have a love song or a song of good life?
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FOOL
Would you rather hear a love song or a song about the good life?
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SIR TOBY BELCH
A love song, a love song.
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SIR TOBY BELCH
A love song, a love song.
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35 |
SIR ANDREW
Ay, ay. I care not for good life.
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SIR ANDREW
Yes, yes. I’m not interested in being good.
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40 |
FOOL
(sings)
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! Your true love’s coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man’s son doth know.
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FOOL
(he sings)
Oh my lover, where are you roaming? Stay and listen! Your true love’s coming, the one who can sing both high and low: Don’t roam any further, pretty darling. Your journey ends when you meet a lover, as every wise man’s son knows.
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