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Modern English
Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
Boy, you giant, what did the doctor say about my urine?
He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water; but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
He said, sir, the water itself was healthy and good, but as for the person who owned it, they might have more diseases than they realize.
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more than I invent or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now: but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel,-- the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, ’tis not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he’ll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he’s almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about the satin for my short cloak and my slops?
Men from all walks of life love to make fun of me: the mind of this foolish, human clay, is not able to come up with anything that makes people laugh, more than I do or more than what people make fun of me for: I’m not just witty on my own, but I’m also the reason that others are witty. I walk in front of you like a pig that has smothered all her piglets except for one. If the prince put you into my service for any reason other than to make me look good, then I have no sense. You, bastard, you’d be better off as a decoration in my hat than following me around. I’ve never been troubled with a fool until now, but I won’t dress you in gold or silver, only in cheap clothes, and send you back to your master, as a treasure,-- the young prince, your master, whose chin hasn’t even fully grown yet. I’d sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than on his cheek; and yet he insists his face is kingly: God can finish it whenever He wants, but it’s not missing any hair yet: he can keep calling it kingly, but a barber will never make a penny from it; and still he’ll brag as if he’s been a man ever since his father was a young man. He can keep his own dignity, but I assure you he’s almost lost mine. What did Master Dombledon say about the satin for my short cloak and my trousers?
He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his band and yours; he liked not the security.
He said, sir, you should get him better guarantees than Bardolph: he wouldn’t accept his bond or yours; he didn’t trust the security.
Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I looked a’ should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where’s Bardolph?
Let him be damned, like the glutton! I pray God his tongue gets hotter! A bastard! A lying scoundrel! To play with a gentleman, and then demand security! These smooth-faced young men now wear only fancy shoes and big keychains on their belts; and if a man does an honest job for them, they want guarantees. I’d rather they put poison in my mouth than offer to cover it with security. I thought he was going to send me twenty-two yards of satin, as I’m a true knight, and instead he sends me guarantees. Well, he can sleep on his guarantees; he’s got more than he needs, and his wife’s light-heartedness shines through it: and yet he can’t see, even with his own lantern. Where’s Bardolph?
He’s gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.
He’s gone to Smithfield to buy a horse for your worship.
I bought him in Paul’s, and he’ll buy me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
I bought one in Paul’s, and he’ll buy me one in Smithfield: if I could just find a wife in the brothels, I’d have a man, a horse, and a wife.
Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph.
Sir, here comes the nobleman who arrested the Prince for hitting him over Bardolph.
Wait, close; I will not see him. Lord Chief-Justice What’s he that goes there?
Wait, hide; I don’t want to see him. Lord Chief-Justice Who’s that going there?
Falstaff, an’t please your lordship. Lord Chief-Justice He that was in question for the robbery?
Falstaff, if it pleases your lordship. Lord Chief-Justice Is he the one who was accused of robbery?
He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster. Lord Chief-Justice What, to York? Call him back again.
Yes, my lord; but he has since done good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, he is now being sent with some mission to Lord John of Lancaster. Lord Chief-Justice What, to York? Call him back.
Sir John Falstaff!
Sir John Falstaff!
Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Boy, tell him I’m deaf.
You must speak louder; my master is deaf. Lord Chief-Justice I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.
You need to speak louder; my master is deaf. Lord Chief-Justice I’m sure he is, to anything good. Go, pull him by the elbow; I need to talk to him.
Sir John!
Sir John!
What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not wars? is there not employment? doth not the king lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
What! A young rascal, and begging! Aren’t there any wars? Isn’t there work to be done? Doesn’t the king need subjects? Don’t the rebels need soldiers? Though it’s shameful to be on the wrong side, it’s a worse shame to beg than to fight on the worst side, even if that side were worse than rebellion itself.
You mistake me, sir.
You’re misunderstanding me, sir.
Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat, if I had said so.
Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? Putting aside my knighthood and my soldiering, I would have lied through my teeth if I had said so.
I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and our soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man.
I beg you, sir, then forget about your knighthood and our soldiering; and let me tell you, you’re lying if you say I’m anything other than an honest man.
I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which grows to me! if thou gettest any leave of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt!
I give you permission to tell me that! I’ll set aside whatever belongs to me! If you get any permission from me, hang me; if you leave, you’d be better off being hanged. You’re going against me: get out! Leave!
Sir, my lord would speak with you. Lord Chief-Justice Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Sir, my lord wants to speak with you. Lord Chief-Justice Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
My good lord! God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard say your lordship was sick: I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I must humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care of your health. Lord Chief-Justice Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.
My good lord! God give your lordship a good day. I’m glad to see you’re out and about: I heard you were sick, and I hope you’re out for a good reason. Your lordship, though not quite old yet, still shows signs of age, a hint of time’s effects; and I must humbly ask you to take care of your health. Lord Chief-Justice Sir John, I had sent for you before you went off to Shrewsbury.
An’t please your lordship, I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales. Lord Chief-Justice I talk not of his majesty: you would not come when I sent for you.
If it pleases your lordship, I hear the king has come back from Wales feeling unwell. Lord Chief-Justice I’m not talking about the king: you wouldn’t come when I sent for you.
And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy. Lord Chief-Justice Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.
And I also hear that his highness has fallen into this same dreadful condition. Lord Chief-Justice Well, may God help him! I beg you, let me speak with you.
This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an’t please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling. Lord Chief-Justice What tell you me of it? be it as it is.
This condition is, as I understand it, a type of lethargy, if it pleases your lordship; it’s a sort of sleepiness, a horrible tingling sensation. Lord Chief-Justice What are you telling me about it? Let it be as it is.
It hath its original from much grief, from study and perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of his effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness. Lord Chief-Justice I think you are fallen into the disease; for you hear not what I say to you.
It comes from a lot of stress, from worry and mental strain: I’ve read about the cause of this in Galen: it’s a kind of deafness. Lord Chief-Justice I think you’ve got the condition yourself; you aren’t hearing what I’m saying.
Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an’t please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal. Lord Chief-Justice To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears; and I care not if I do become your physician.
Very well, my lord, very well: rather, if it pleases you, it’s a disease of not listening, a sickness of not paying attention, that I suffer from. Lord Chief-Justice To punish you by making you walk would fix your listening problems; and I don’t mind becoming your doctor.
I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient: your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how should I be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself. Lord Chief-Justice I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
I’m as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient: your lordship may give me the punishment of imprisonment because of my poverty; but how can I follow your advice when the wise may make something out of nothing, or even nothing itself? Lord Chief-Justice I sent for you when there were charges against you that could cost you your life, to come and speak with me.
As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. Lord Chief-Justice Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
As I was advised by my learned lawyers in the laws of this land-service, I didn’t come. Lord Chief-Justice Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great disgrace.
He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less. Lord Chief-Justice Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
Whoever wears my belt can’t live any better. Lord Chief-Justice Your resources are very slim, and you waste a lot.
I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer. Lord Chief-Justice You have misled the youthful prince.
I wish it were otherwise; I wish my resources were larger, and my waist slimmer. Lord Chief-Justice You’ve led the young prince astray.
The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. Lord Chief-Justice Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your day’s service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night’s exploit on Gad’s-hill: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o’er-posting that action.
The young prince has led me astray: I’m the guy with the big belly, and he’s like my dog. Lord Chief-Justice Well, I don’t want to make an old wound worse: your service at Shrewsbury has done a little to cover up your actions on Gad’s-hill: you can thank the troubled times for helping you cover up that incident.
My lord? Lord Chief-Justice But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.
My lord? Lord Chief-Justice But since everything is fine, leave it that way: don’t wake a sleeping wolf.
To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. Lord Chief-Justice What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
Waking a wolf is as bad as smelling a fox. Lord Chief-Justice What! You’re like a candle, mostly burned out.
A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth. Lord Chief-Justice There is not a white hair on your face but should have his effect of gravity.
A party candle, my lord, all fat: if I said wax, my size would prove the point. Lord Chief-Justice There’s not a white hair on your face that shouldn’t make you serious.
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. Lord Chief-Justice You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel.
Serious? Gravy, gravy, gravy. Lord Chief-Justice You follow the young prince everywhere, like his bad angel.
Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young; you do measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too. Lord Chief-Justice Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and every part about you blasted with antiquity? and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
Not at all, my lord; your bad angel is light; but I hope anyone who looks at me will take me as I am, without judging me too harshly: and yet, in some ways, I admit, I can’t escape it: I can’t decide. Virtue is so unimportant these days that true bravery is turned into a bear-tamer: pregnancy is a bartender, wasting quick wit on counting tips: all the other traits that belong to man, as this age has twisted them, are worth nothing. You who are older don’t understand the capabilities of us who are young; you measure our passion by the bitterness of your own disappointments: and we who are at the front of our youth, I admit, are mischievous too. Lord Chief-Justice You call yourself young when you are written down as old, with all the signs of age? Don’t you have watery eyes? A dry hand? A yellow face? A white beard? Weak legs? A growing belly? Isn’t your voice cracked? Your breath short? Your chin sagging? Your wit dull? And everything about you shriveled by age? And you still say you’re young? Shame on you, Sir John!
My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him! For the box of the ear that the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have chequed him for it, and the young lion repents; marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack. Lord Chief-Justice Well, God send the prince a better companion!
My lord, I was born around three in the afternoon, with a white head and a slightly round belly. As for my voice, I lost it from shouting and singing hymns. To prove my youth further, I won’t: the truth is, I’m only old in wisdom and understanding; and if anyone wants to dance with me for a thousand pounds, let them lend me the money, and we’ll see! As for the slap the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I’ve talked to him about it, and the young lion regrets it; but not in mourning clothes, just in new silk and old wine. Lord Chief-Justice Well, God send the prince a better companion!
God send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him. Lord Chief-Justice Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry: I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
God send the companion a better prince! I can’t get rid of him. Lord Chief-Justice Well, the king has separated you and Prince Harry: I hear you’re going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, and I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but it was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is: I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. Lord Chief-Justice Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your expedition!
Yes, thank you for your clever wit. But look you all who kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies don’t join on a hot day; because, by the Lord, I’m only taking two shirts with me, and I don’t intend to sweat much: if it’s a hot day, and I’m holding anything but a bottle, I’d rather never spit again. There’s no dangerous action that comes up without me being pushed into it: well, I can’t keep going forever: but it has always been the way of our English people that if they have something good, they make it too common. If you insist on calling me an old man, then let me rest. I wish my name wasn’t so terrifying to the enemy: it’d be better to be eaten by rust than to be worn out by constant movement. Lord Chief-Justice Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your journey!
Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth? Lord Chief-Justice Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.
Will you lend me a thousand pounds to help me get ready? Lord Chief-Justice Not a penny, not a penny; you’re too impatient to deal with hardship. Farewell: say hi to my cousin Westmoreland.
If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness than a’ can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!
If I do, slap me with a three-man hammer. A man can no more separate age from greed than he can separate young limbs from lust: but the gout troubles one, and the pox pinches the other; so both of these prevent my curses. Boy!
Sir?
Sir?
What money is in my purse?
How much money do I have in my purse?
Seven groats and two pence.
Seven pennies and two pence.
I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin. About it: you know where to find me.
I can’t find a way to fix this problem with my purse: borrowing just drags it on and on, but the problem is incurable. Take this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this one to the prince; this one to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this one to old Mistress Ursula, whom I’ve promised to marry since I first saw a white hair on my chin. Get to it: you know where to find me.
A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. ’Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: I will turn diseases to commodity.
A curse on this gout! Or, a gout from this curse! Because either one of them is making a fool of my big toe. It doesn’t matter if I limp; at least I have the wars to excuse me, and my pension will seem more reasonable. A smart person can make use of anything: I’ll turn diseases into profit.