For a start here is the new type of post: Citations with very little feedback. Like it or not. And the answer is no.
Go with the first ... I closed my last post (and a chapter of this blog) with a quote from Shakespeare, what better way to start with another quote from good ol 'Willie? Here it is.
This scene is not new to me ....
From: As you like it:
SCENE V. Another part of the forest.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE
SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard,
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?
Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind
PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner:
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers!
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
SILVIUS
O dear Phebe,
If ever,--as that ever may be near,--
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love's keen arrows make.
PHEBE
But till that time
Come not thou near me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,--
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed--
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children:
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love:
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can: you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.
PHEBE
Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
ROSALIND
He's fallen in love with your foulness and she'll
fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as
she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her
with bitter words. Why look you so upon me?
PHEBE
For no ill will I bear you.
ROSALIND
I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud: though all the world could see,
None could be so abused in sight as he.
Come, to our flock.
Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN
PHEBE
Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might,
'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'
SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe,--
PHEBE
Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius?
SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe, pity me.
PHEBE
Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
SILVIUS
Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermined.
PHEBE
Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?
SILVIUS
I would have you.
PHEBE
Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
SILVIUS
So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.
Ecco la traduzione:
SCENA V - Altra parte della foresta delle Ardenne
Entrano SILVIO e FEBE
SILVIO -
Febe mia dolce, non avermi a spregio!
No, Febe, tell me that you love me, but do not tell me
so bitter!
The public executioner,
whose heart is hard and insensitive
the usual view of death,
never lets down his ax
the neck is bowed before him
without asking forgiveness from his victim.
And you would like to show you more of a passing
hard his entire life to make
drops spurting blood of others?
Enter, on the bottom, Rosalind, Celia and Corinne, and remain unnoticed
FEBE -
I do not mean me your executioner;
indeed, you flee to not get hurt.
You say that I have the murder in his eyes:
is nice, certainly, and very
likely that the eyes, which are our most delicate and fragile things
in the body,
ready to tighten their doors
timid even imperceptible dust, (88) Abba
to be called by the name of tyrants
, murderers and butchers! And I
them vulgar
now on you with all the sorrow of which they are capable;
and while it may hurt, because now
not let me kill you?
Next, at least pretend to faint,
slumps to the ground, and if you're not capable,
oh, at least for decency, modesty,
not lie, do not continue to say that they are murderers
my eyes.
me then see if you can,
wounds You got it caused.
sgraffiti with just a badges, and you
there is the sign;
just grab his hand a reed,
and your palm will preserve the imprint
visible for a time
but do not tell me that my eyes,
I too have darted about you,
t'abbian brought no harm.
No, no, I am sure that in the eyes,
there is no force capable of hurting.
SILVIO -
If anything happens, my dear Phoebe,
- and this "never" can be "soon" -
you find out about some young man gota
the power to awaken in you
fantasies that inspires the love , then
know the wounds invisible
you bear the sharp arrows of Cupid.
FEBE -
In any case you, until that day,
keep away from me, and when it will
perseguitami though, without mercy,
with your mockery, which until then,
pity on you I do not I have none.
ROSALINDA -
(Coming forward)
And why, if m'è legal? What woman could
Essert
mother that you can cover with insults, and be glad,
this mean? Why, how you surprise
of all beauty - the beauty in you because I do not know more than they see
see
going to bed without a candle - you have to show you with
him as ruthless and arrogant? ...
And you have, I
figs eyes on him in this way? In
you do not see anything more of those products that sells Nature
, big and cheesy ...
(Realizing that Phoebe continues to stare)
Oh, oh! For my life, I think she has
intention of even grab my eyes!
We hope, my fair maiden!
will not be your eyelashes ink
your hair like black silk
your eyeballs bull
your cheeks
to persuade me to put butter in your worship.
(Silvio)
silly shepherd, why go back like a dark wind
sirocco blowing wind and rain all the time?
You, as a man, it might worth a thousand times
valer her as a woman. The
silly like you are those that then populate the world of children
ugly. A
flatter her and make her believe to be beautiful
not her mirror, but only you;
and is in favor of your fuss
she claims to be the most beautiful
of showing that his features.
And you, girl, best known:
knees and give thanks to heaven
with a lot of denial and fasting
for the love of a good young man;
why did I have to say in his ear, a sign of friendship and
good advice:
"Sell your goods as you get it,
you're not made for all markets."
Ask forgiveness from this fine young man,
love him, will not reject his offer,
that ugliness is all the more ugly when
s'atteggia air of contempt.
(Silvio)
So take it, a shepherd, and goodbye.
FEBE -
O sweet young, please,
followed again with your reproaches,
maybe for a year in one piece!
I like most to hear your voice that moves me
reproaches
that its not that I speak of love.
ROSALINDA -
he has become enamored of your ugliness
(Silvio) and
her - but watch you - has run infatuated
of my anger. If so, she will respond immediately
with the look haughty and angry, I
seasoned with bitter words.
(A Phoebe, who continues to stare)
What is it, in short, look at me like that?
FEBE -
None. With you I can not have a grudge.
ROSALINDA -
For goodness sake, you were not in the hands of
love me, I'm a
even more unfair
of an oath with the wine into the body.
also do not like you.
If you want to know where my home is near by
at that clump of trees.
(To Celia)
Sister, let's go.
(A Silvio)
Shepherd, besieged, not give them respite.
(to Phoebe)
And you, pastor, trying to look
with better eyes, and not be proud;
although we all have eyes to see,
the world, there is no one more than he has done that
cheat sight.
Come, torniamocene to our flock.
(Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corinne)
FEBE -
Shepherd died, now I find myself in
the full force of your words:
"Who could ever love
conceived if not love at first sight?" (89)
SILVIO -
My sweet Phoebe!
FEBE -
Eh? You say, Silvio?
SILVIO -
Have mercy on me, my sweet Phoebe!
FEBE -
Eh, I felt about you, dear Silvio.
SILVIO -
Where's sentence would also house
relief. If you really have to suffer punishment
my love, you give love
end to your pain and with my pain.
FEBE - You
you've got my love.
It is not written that must one love one's neighbor?
SILVIO -
Yes, but I want you.
FEBE -
Eh, this greed is good and beautiful.
Silvio, there was a time I hated thee,
though now I can not say he loves you,
but you know so well about love, that
your company, so far
m'è
was so boring now I find it bearable;
not only that, but I will serve you for a few
my service.
not attempt, however, that similar consideration
in the joy of having me served.
SILVIO -
so holy, so full and perfect
is my love for you, and I am so
ounce of grace, that I seem copious
made to glean routes
discarded by those who have reaped
and gathered the bulk of the harvest.
me only a fleeting smile
from time to time, and I'll know food.
Say what you want but these verses are beautiful ...
