Original
Modern English
More rushes, more rushes.
More rushes, more rushes.
The trumpets have sounded twice.
The trumpets have sounded twice.
’Twill be two o’clock ere they come from the coronation: dispatch, dispatch.
It will be two o’clock before they come from the coronation: hurry up, hurry up.
Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon him as a’ comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
Stand here with me, Master Robert Shallow; I will get the king to honor you: I’ll give him a look as he passes by, and just watch the expression he gives me.
God bless thy lungs, good knight.
God bless your lungs, good knight.
Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But ’tis no matter; this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. Oh, if I had time to make new uniforms, I would have spent the thousand pounds I borrowed from you. But it doesn’t matter; this little display is better: it shows how eager I was to see him.
It doth so.
It does, indeed.
It shows my earnestness of affection,--
It shows how serious I am about my feelings,--
It doth so.
It does, yes.
My devotion,--
My loyalty,--
It doth, it doth, it doth.
It does, it does, it does.
As it were, to ride day and night; and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me,--
As if I were riding all day and night; and not thinking, not remembering, not having the patience to rest,--
It is best, certain.
It’s definitely the best, for sure.
But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.
But to be covered in sweat from travel, and burning with the need to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting everything else out of my mind, as if there were nothing else to do but see him.
’Tis ’semper idem,’ for ’obsque hoc nihil est:’ ’tis all in every part.
It’s always the same, ’for without this, there’s nothing:’ it’s all in every part.
’Tis so, indeed.
It is true, indeed.
My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, And make thee rage. Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, Is in base durance and contagious prison; Haled thither By most mechanical and dirty hand: Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto’s snake, For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.
My knight, I will stir up your noble heart, And make you furious. Your Doll, and the Helen of your noble thoughts, Is stuck in a filthy, contagious prison; Dragged there By the most lowly and disgusting hands: Wake up revenge from its dark lair with Alecto’s terrible snake, For Doll is in there. Pistol speaks nothing but the truth.
I will deliver her.
I will rescue her.
There roar’d the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.
The sea roared, and the trumpets blared.
God save thy grace, King Hal! my royal Hal!
God save you, King Hal! my royal Hal!
The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!
May the heavens protect you, most royal child of glory!
God save thee, my sweet boy!
God save you, my dear boy!
My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man. Lord Chief-Justice Have you your wits? know you what ’tis to speak?
My lord chief-justice, tell that foolish man to speak. Lord Chief-Justice: Are you out of your mind? Do you even know what it means to speak?
My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!
My king! my Jupiter! I speak to you, my heart!
I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers; How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! I have long dream’d of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swell’d, so old and so profane; But, being awaked, I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men. Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: Presume not that I am the thing I was; For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, That I have turn’d away my former self; So will I those that kept me company. When thou dost hear I am as I have been, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, The tutor and the feeder of my riots: Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, As I have done the rest of my misleaders, Not to come near our person by ten mile. For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evil: And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strengths and qualities, Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord, To see perform’d the tenor of our word. Set on.
I don’t know you, old man: start praying; How badly do white hairs suit a fool and a jester! I’ve often dreamed of a man like you, So bloated, so old, and so rude; But now that I’m awake, I despise that dream. Shrink your body and show more grace; Stop gorging yourself; remember the grave is waiting For you, three times wider than for other men. Don’t answer me with some foolish joke: Don’t think I’m the same person I was; For God knows, and so will the world, that I’ve changed, And I’ll turn away from those who kept me company. When you hear that I’ve become who I truly am, Come to me, and you’ll be as you were, The one who led and fed my wild lifestyle: Until then, I banish you, under threat of death, Just as I’ve done with the rest of my bad companions, Don’t come within ten miles of me. I’ll allow you to live decently, So you’re not forced to do evil out of necessity: And as we hear that you’ve reformed yourself, We’ll reward you according to your strength and character. It’s your responsibility, my lord, To make sure our words are carried out. Move on.
Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds.
Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me have home with me.
Yes, indeed, Sir John; which I ask you to let me take home with me.
That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this; I shall be sent for in private to him: look you, he must seem thus to the world: fear not your advancements; I will be the man yet that shall make you great.
That’s hardly possible, Master Shallow. Don’t worry about it; I’ll be privately summoned to him: look, he must appear this way to the world: Don’t fear for your advancement; I’ll still be the one Who will make you great.
I cannot well perceive how, unless you should give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
I can’t quite see how, unless you give me your coat and stuff me with straw. I beg you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
Sir, I will be as good as my word: this that you heard was but a colour.
Sir, I’ll keep my word: what you heard was just an excuse.
A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.
An excuse that I fear you’ll die in, Sir John.
Fear no colours: go with me to dinner: come, Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph: I shall be sent for soon at night.
Don’t fear excuses: come with me to dinner: come, Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph: I’ll be summoned soon at night.
Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet: Take all his company along with him.
Go, take Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet: Take all his companions with him.
My lord, my lord,-- Lord Chief-Justice I cannot now speak: I will hear you soon. Take them away.
My lord, my lord,-- Lord Chief-Justice, I can’t speak right now: I’ll listen to you soon. Take them away.
Si fortune me tormenta, spero contenta.
If fortune torments me, I hope it’s with content.
I like this fair proceeding of the king’s: He hath intent his wonted followers Shall all be very well provided for; But all are banish’d till their conversations Appear more wise and modest to the world. Lord Chief-Justice And so they are.
I like how the king is handling things: He plans for his usual followers To be well taken care of; But they’re all banished until they can act more wisely And modestly in public. Lord Chief-Justice: And that’s how it is.
The king hath call’d his parliament, my lord. Lord Chief-Justice He hath.
The king has called his parliament, my lord. Lord Chief-Justice: He has.
I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, We bear our civil swords and native fire As far as France: I beard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king. Come, will you hence?
I’ll bet that before this year ends, We’ll be carrying our swords and fighting fires in France: I heard a bird sing like this, And the music, I think, pleased the king. Come, shall we go?
First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me: for what I have to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it and to promise you a better. I meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would be and here I commit my body to your mercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? and yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me: if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already a’ be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel down before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.
First my fear; then my courtesy; lastly my speech. My fear is your disapproval; my courtesy is my duty; And my speech is to beg your forgiveness. If you want A good speech now, you’ll ruin me: because what I have To say is just my own work; and what I really Should say will, I fear, end up making things worse. But let’s get to the point, and so take the chance. Let it Be known to you, as it surely is, that I was recently here At the end of an unpleasant play, to ask for your Patience and to promise you a better one. I Did mean to repay you with this; which, if it ends badly, I’ll fail, and you, my kind creditors, will lose. Here I promised you I’d be, and here I give myself over to your Mercies: reduce my debt a little and I’ll pay what I can, and, Like most debtors, promise you everything. If my words can’t persuade you to forgive me, will You tell me to use my legs? And yet, that would just be A light payment, dancing my way out of debt. But a Good conscience will make any satisfaction possible, And that’s what I’ll do. All the ladies here have Forgiven me: if the gentlemen won’t, then the Gentlemen don’t agree with the ladies, which Has never happened before in such a gathering. One more word, please. If you’re not too Full from all the rich food, our humble author will Continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make You laugh with the fair Katharine of France: where, for All I know, Falstaff will die from exhaustion, Unless he’s already killed by your harsh Judgments; because Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is Not the same man. My tongue is tired; when my legs are Too, I’ll say good night: and so kneel before you; But really, just to pray for the queen.