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Modern English
’But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.’ He could be contented: why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house: he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. ’The purpose you undertake is dangerous;’--why, that’s certain: ’tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. ’The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.’ Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the general course of action. ’Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady’s fan. Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, My lord of York and Owen Glendower? is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set forward to-night.
"But as for me, my lord, I’d be happy to be there, because of the love I have for your family." He says he’d be happy—so why isn’t he, then? Because of the love he has for our family—he shows here that he loves his own home more than ours. Let me read more. "The plan you’re trying to carry out is dangerous;"—well, that’s true: it’s dangerous to catch a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pull this flower, safety. "The plan you’re trying to carry out is dangerous; the friends you’ve named are uncertain; the time itself is unprepared; and your whole plan is too weak for the great opposition it faces." You say so, do you? I’ll say this to you again—you’re a shallow, cowardly fool, and you’re lying. What a brainless idiot this is! By the Lord, our plan is as good as any ever made; our friends are true and loyal: a good plan, good friends, full of hope; an excellent plan, very good friends. What a cold-hearted scoundrel this is! Why, my lord of York praises the plan and the whole course of action. "Damn it, if I were near this scoundrel, I’d hit him with his lady’s fan. Is it not my father, my uncle, and I? Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Isn’t there also the Douglas? Don’t I have letters from all of them to meet me in battle by the ninth of next month? And aren’t some of them already on their way? What a pagan scoundrel this is! An unbeliever! Ha! You’ll see now, in true fear and with a cold heart, he’ll go to the king and reveal all our plans. Oh, I could split myself in two and fight, just for letting him stir up such a mess with such an honorable action! Hang him! Let him tell the king; we are ready. I’ll leave tonight."
How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours.
How’s it going, Kate! I have to leave you in two hours.
O, my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou sit’st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; Cry ’Courage! to the field!’ And thou hast talk’d Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoners’ ransom and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream; And in thy face strange motions have appear’d, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Oh, my dear lord, why are you here all alone? What did I do to deserve being kept away from my Harry’s bed for the last two weeks? Tell me, my sweet lord, what’s taking away your appetite, your pleasure, and your sleep? Why do you keep looking at the ground, And jump so often when you sit alone? Why have you lost the color in your cheeks, And handed my treasures and rights over to deep thinking and cursed sadness? I’ve watched you while you slept, And heard you mutter about wars of iron; You’ve talked about controlling your horse; Yelled "Courage!" to the field! And you’ve talked About attacks and retreats, trenches, tents, Palisades, borders, battlements, Basilisks, cannons, artillery, Ransoms for prisoners and soldiers dying, And all the chaos of a fierce battle. Your spirit inside you has been at war And it’s made you toss and turn in your sleep, Until beads of sweat stood on your forehead Like bubbles in a stream that’s just been disturbed; And strange movements have shown on your face, Like when people hold their breath On some great sudden command. Oh, what signs are these? My lord has some serious business on his mind, And I must know what it is, or else he doesn’t love me."
What, ho!
What, hey!
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
Has Gilliams left with the packet?
He is, my lord, an hour ago.
He has, my lord, about an hour ago.
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
Did Butler bring those horses from the sheriff?
One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
One horse, my lord, he brought just now.
What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
What horse? A roan, a cropped ear, isn’t it?
It is, my lord.
It is, my lord.
That roan shall by my throne. Well, I will back him straight: O esperance! Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
That horse will be mine. Alright, I’ll get him ready: Oh, hope! Tell Butler to lead him out to the park.
But hear you, my lord.
But listen, my lord.
What say’st thou, my lady?
What are you saying, my lady?
What is it carries you away?
What is it that’s making you act like this?
Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
It’s my horse, my love, my horse.
Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen As you are toss’d with. In faith, I’ll know your business, Harry, that I will. I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir About his title, and hath sent for you To line his enterprise: but if you go,--
Out with you, you crazy fool! A weasel doesn’t have nearly as much temper As you’re showing. Honestly, I’m going to find out what you’re up to, Harry, I swear I will. I think my brother Mortimer is causing some trouble Over his claim to the title, and has sent for you To support his plans: but if you go,--
So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
I’ll be too tired to keep going, love.
Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly unto this question that I ask: In faith, I’ll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Come on, come on, you little parrot, answer me Honestly to the question I’m asking: Honestly, I’ll break your little finger, Harry, If you don’t tell me everything.
Away, Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: We must have bloody noses and crack’d crowns, And pass them current too. God’s me, my horse! What say’st thou, Kate? what would’st thou have with me?
Go away, Go away, you chatterbox! Love! I don’t love you, I don’t care about you, Kate: this is no time To play with dolls and kiss for fun: We need bloody noses and cracked heads, And we’ll make them count too. Oh my god, my horse! What do you say, Kate? What do you want from me?
Do you not love me? do you not, indeed? Well, do not then; for since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
Don’t you love me? Don’t you really? Well, if you don’t, then I won’t love myself. Don’t you love me? No, tell me honestly, are you joking or not?
Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am on horseback, I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; I must not have you henceforth question me Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet no farther wise Than Harry Percy’s wife: constant you are, But yet a woman: and for secrecy, No lady closer; for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
Come on, will you watch me ride? And when I’m on horseback, I’ll swear I love you more than anything. But listen, Kate; You can’t keep asking me Where I’m going or why I’m going there: Where I have to go, I must go; and, to sum it up, I’ll have to leave you this evening, gentle Kate. I know you’re wise, but only as wise As Harry Percy’s wife: you’re steady, yes, But still a woman: and for secrecy, No lady more secret; for I truly believe You won’t tell anyone what you don’t know; And that’s how much I’ll trust you, gentle Kate.
How! so far?
What! That much?
Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate: Whither I go, thither shall you go too; To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. Will this content you, Kate?
Not an inch more. But listen, Kate: Where I go, you’ll go too; I’ll leave today, you’ll leave tomorrow. Will this satisfy you, Kate?
It must of force.
It must, of course.