Original
Modern English
He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will: though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter.
He can’t come any other way except through this hedge. When you attack him, say whatever threatening words you want: even if you don’t understand them yourselves, it doesn’t matter; because we shouldn’t act like we understand him, unless one of us is assigned to translate.
Good captain, let me be the interpreter.
Good captain, let me be the translator.
Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?
Don’t you know him? Doesn’t he recognize your voice?
No, sir, I warrant you.
No, sir, I swear he doesn’t.
But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?
What kind of nonsense are you going to speak to us then?
E’en such as you speak to me.
Exactly the same nonsense you speak to me.
He must think us some band of strangers i’ the adversary’s entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs’ language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.
He’ll probably think we’re just a group of strangers in the enemy’s service. He probably knows a little bit of every nearby language, so we all need to act like we’re speaking gibberish to each other. If we seem to know what we’re saying, it’ll give away our plan. Just use nonsense words, silly sounds, and that’ll be fine. As for you, translator, you’ll have to look very clever. But get ready, here he comes, hoping to kill two hours napping, and then come back and lie through his teeth.
Ten o’clock: within these three hours ’twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.
Ten o’clock: in three hours it’ll be late enough to go home. What should I say I’ve been doing? It has to be a really good story if I want them to believe it. They’re starting to figure me out; and lately, bad things have been happening to me too often. I feel like I’m talking too boldly, but my heart is scared of Mars and all his soldiers, and I’m too scared to trust my own words.
This is the first truth that e’er thine own tongue was guilty of.
This is the first honest thing your own mouth has ever said.
What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, ’Came you off with so little?’ and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman’s mouth and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mule, if you prattle me into these perils.
What on earth made me think I could get this drum back, knowing it was impossible and that I had no real plan? I’ll have to hurt myself and say I got these injuries in battle: but if they’re too small, people will laugh and say, “Is that all?” And if they’re too big, I can’t risk it. So, what do I do now? My tongue’s about to get me into trouble, I might as well put it in the mouth of a gossiping woman and get myself another of Bajazet’s mules if I keep talking myself into these situations.
Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
Is it possible he knows what he is, and yet still is that way?
I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
I wish tearing my clothes or breaking my Spanish sword would get me out of this.
We cannot afford you so.
We can’t help you with that.
Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.
Or by showing my beard, and claiming it was part of a trick.
’Twould not do.
That wouldn’t work.
Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
Or by drowning my clothes and saying I was stripped naked.
Hardly serve.
That would hardly help.
Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel.
Even if I swore I jumped from the top of the fortress.
How deep?
How far did you fall?
Thirty fathom.
Thirty fathoms.
Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.
Even three strong oaths wouldn’t make anyone believe that.
I would I had any drum of the enemy’s: I would swear I recovered it.
I wish I had a drum from the enemy’s side: I’d swear I got it back.
You shall hear one anon.
You’ll hear one shortly.
A drum now of the enemy’s,--
A drum from the enemy’s side, now,--
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.
Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.
O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes.
Oh, ransom, ransom! Don’t cover my eyes.
Boskos thromuldo boskos.
Boskos thromuldo boskos.
I know you are the Muskos’ regiment: And I shall lose my life for want of language; If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I’ll Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.
I know you’re from the Muskos’ regiment: And I’ll lose my life because I can’t speak the language; If there’s anyone here who speaks German, Danish, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him talk to me; I’ll Reveal something that will destroy the Florentine.
Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.
Boskos vauvado: I understand you, and can speak your language. Kerely bonto, sir, take care of your faith, because there are seventeen daggers at your chest.
O!
Oh!
O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.
Oh, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.
Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
The general is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink’d as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life.
The general is willing to spare you for now; And, blindfolded as you are, will lead you on To get something from you: perhaps you’ll tell us Something that could save your life.
O, let me live! And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show, Their force, their purposes; nay, I’ll speak that Which you will wonder at.
Oh, let me live! And I’ll reveal all the secrets of our camp, Their strength, their plans; I’ll even tell you things That will amaze you.
But wilt thou faithfully?
But will you be honest?
If I do not, damn me.
If I don’t, damn me.
Acordo linta. Come on; thou art granted space.
Acordo linta. Go on; you have some time.
Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them.
Go, tell Count Rousillon, and my brother, We’ve caught the fool, and will keep him blindfolded Until we hear from them.
Captain, I will.
Captain, I will.
A’ will betray us all unto ourselves: Inform on that.
He’ll betray us all to ourselves: Report on that.
So I will, sir.
I will, sir.
Till then I’ll keep him dark and safely lock’d.
Until then, I’ll keep him hidden and locked up safely.