Original
Modern English
Well met, Corporal Nym.
Good to see you, Corporal Nym.
Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
Good morning, Lieutenant Bardolph.
What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
So, are you and Ancient Pistol friends yet?
For my part, I care not: I say little; but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron: it is a simple one; but what though? it will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man’s sword will: and there’s an end.
As for me, I don’t care: I don’t say much; but when the time comes, there will be smiles; but that will be as it is. I don’t dare to fight; but I’ll pretend to and hold out my sword: it’s a simple one; but so what? It can toast cheese, and it will endure cold just like anyone else’s sword will: and that’s the end of it.
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it be so, good Corporal Nym.
I’ll buy you breakfast so we can make up; and we’ll all be brothers, sworn to France: let’s do it, good Corporal Nym.
Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may: that is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it.
Honestly, I’ll live as long as I can, that’s a fact; and when I can’t live anymore, I’ll do what I can: that’s my fate, that’s the final word on it.
It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly: and certainly she did you wrong; for you were troth-plight to her.
It’s true, corporal, he’s married to Nell Quickly: and she certainly wronged you; because you were promised to her.
I cannot tell: things must be as they may: men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may: though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell.
I can’t say: things will be what they will be: men can sleep, and they might have their throats slit at that moment; and some say knives have sharp edges. It has to happen as it happens: though patience is a tired horse, she still keeps going. There must be resolutions. Well, I can’t say.
Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol!
Here come Ancient Pistol and his wife: good corporal, be patient now. How’s it going, my host Pistol?
Base tike, call’st thou me host? Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
You lowlife, you call me host? Now, by my hand, I swear, I reject that title; Nor shall my Nell have lodgers.
No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy house straight.
No, by my word, not for long; because we can’t house and feed a dozen or fourteen women who make an honest living with their needlework, without people thinking we run a brothel.
O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.
Oh, dear lady, if he’s not drawing his sword now! We’ll witness wanton adultery and murder.
Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here.
Good lieutenant! good corporal! don’t do anything here.
Pish!
Pish!
Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear’d cur of Iceland!
Pish to you, Iceland dog! you flea-bitten cur from Iceland!
Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword.
Good Corporal Nym, show some courage, and put away your sword.
Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
Will you back off? I want you alone.
’Solus,’ egregious dog? O viper vile! The ’solus’ in thy most mervailous face; The ’solus’ in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy, And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! I do retort the ’solus’ in thy bowels; For I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up, And flashing fire will follow.
’Alone,’ you great fool? Oh, vile snake! The ’alone’ in your ridiculous face; The ’alone’ in your teeth, and in your throat, And in your disgusting lungs, yes, in your stomach, damn it, And, what’s worse, in your filthy mouth! I return the ’alone’ to your insides; Because I can take it, and Pistol’s ready, And flames will follow.
I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may: and that’s the humour of it.
I’m not Barbason; you can’t summon me. I feel like I could hit you pretty well. If you get rude with me, Pistol, I’ll fight you with my sword, as best as I can, politely: if you want to leave, I’d just poke you in the gut a bit, nicely, as best as I can: and that’s how I feel about it.
O braggart vile and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; Therefore exhale.
You vile, boastful, and enraged fool! The grave is opening, and death is close; So just die already.
Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.
Listen to me, listen to what I say: whoever strikes first, I’ll run them through, like the soldier I am.
An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give: Thy spirits are most tall.
A mighty oath; and my rage will calm down. Give me your hand, your front foot, give it to me: Your spirit is very strong.
I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms: that is the humour of it.
I’ll slit your throat, sooner or later, in a polite way: that’s how I feel about it.
’Couple a gorge!’ That is the word. I thee defy again. O hound of Crete, think’st thou my spouse to get? No; to the spital go, And from the powdering tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse: I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she; and--pauca, there’s enough. Go to.
"Shut your mouth!" That’s what I say. I defy you again. Oh, you dog from Crete, do you think you’ll get my wife? No; go to the hospital, And from the tub of shame Bring out the sick vulture of Cressida’s kind, Doll Tearsheet, that’s her name, and marry her: I’ve had her, and I’ll keep the former Quickly As the only one; and that’s enough. Go on.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he’s very ill.
Host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess: he’s very sick and wants to go to bed. Good Bardolph, put your face in his sheets and act as a warming-pan. Honestly, he’s very ill.
Away, you rogue!
Go away, you scoundrel!
By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. The king has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently.
Honestly, he’ll be dead soon enough. The king has broken his heart. Good husband, come home right now.
Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together: why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another’s throats?
Come on, should I make you two friends? We’re going to France together: why should we keep knives to slit each other’s throats?
Let floods o’erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
Let the floods rise and demons howl for food!
You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
Will you pay me the eight shillings I won from you on a bet?
Base is the slave that pays.
It’s a disgrace for a slave to pay.
That now I will have: that’s the humour of it.
That’s what I want now: that’s the way it is.
As manhood shall compound: push home.
As a man’s bravery decides: go ahead.
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I’ll kill him; by this sword, I will.
By this sword, the first one to strike, I’ll kill him; by this sword, I swear I will.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
A sword is like an oath, and oaths must be kept.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up.
Corporal Nym, if you want to be friends, let’s be friends: if you don’t, then let’s be enemies as well. Please, put your sword away.
I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting?
Will I get the eight shillings I won from you in the bet?
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: I’ll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me; Is not this just? for I shall sutler be Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand.
You’ll get a noble, and I’ll pay you right now; I’ll also give you some liquor, and we’ll be friends, brothers in arms: I’ll make a living through Nym, and Nym will live through me; Isn’t that fair? Because I’ll be a camp supplier, and we’ll make a profit. Give me your hand.
I shall have my noble?
I’ll really get my noble?
In cash most justly paid.
In cash, paid fairly.
Well, then, that’s the humour of’t.
Well, then, that’s the way it is.
As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.
As sure as you’re a woman, come quickly to Sir John. Oh, poor man! He’s so badly shaken by a fever, it’s painful to watch. Gentlemen, come to him.
The king hath run bad humours on the knight; that’s the even of it.
The king has caused trouble for the knight; that’s the reality of it.
Nym, thou hast spoke the right; His heart is fracted and corroborate.
Nym, you’ve got it right; His heart is broken and unstable.
The king is a good king: but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and careers.
The king is a good king: but things must be as they are; he has his moods and rages.
Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins we will live.
Let’s feel sorry for the knight; because, dear ones, we will survive.