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Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries?
Is it possible that the tricks of France could fool Men into such strange situations?
New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let ’em be unmanly, yet are follow’d.
New customs, No matter how ridiculous they are, Even if they are unmanly, still they are followed.
As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o’ the face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counsellors To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
From what I can see, all the good our English Have gained from the recent trip is just a few Smiles or compliments; but they are clever smiles; When they show them, you’d swear their noses Were advising kings like Pepin or Clotharius, they hold their position so well.
They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it, That never saw ’em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reign’d among ’em.
They’ve all got new legs, and some are lame: you’d think, If you’d never seen them walk before, that the lameness Or stiffness was in their bones.
Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.
Damn! my lord, Their clothes are cut in such a ridiculous way, That, honestly, they’ve ruined all of Christianity.
How now! What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
What’s going on? Any news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Faith, my lord, I hear of none, but the new proclamation That’s clapp’d upon the court-gate.
Honestly, my lord, I haven’t heard anything, except the new proclamation That’s been posted on the court gate.
What is’t for?
What’s it about?
The reformation of our travell’d gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
It’s about the reforming of our fashionable young men, Who fill the court with arguments, gossip, and tailors.
I’m glad ’tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre.
I’m glad to hear it’s happening: now I’d like to ask our Frenchmen To think that an English courtier can be wise, And never visit the Louvre.
They must either, For so run the conditions, leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable point of ignorance Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, Abusing better men than they can be, Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blister’d breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men; Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, They may, ’cum privilegio,’ wear away The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh’d at.
They must either, As the rules say, leave behind the foolish and flashy things They picked up in France, Along with all their misguided sense of honor That goes with it, like duels and extravagant displays, Mistreating better men than they are, All based on some foreign idea of wisdom, completely rejecting The faith they have in tennis, and tall socks, Short tight pants, and all those travel habits, And start acting like decent men again; Or go back to their old friends: there, I think, They can, with permission, waste away The last part of their shamelessness and be laughed at.
’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.
It’s time to give them some medicine, their problems Have become so contagious.
What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities!
What a shame our ladies Will lose these fashionable fads!
Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
Yes, indeed, There will be real sorrow, lords: the clever scoundrels Have found a fast way to win over ladies; A French song and a fiddle have no rival.
The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going, For, sure, there’s no converting of ’em: now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong And have an hour of hearing; and, by’r lady, Held current music too.
Damn them! I’m glad they’re leaving, Because, honestly, there’s no changing them: now An honest country lord, like myself, who’s been Out of style for a long time, can bring his simple tunes And have them heard for an hour; and, by God, They’ll be accepted as real music too.
Well said, Lord Sands; Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.
Well said, Lord Sands; You’re not yet past your prime.
No, my lord; Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
No, my lord; And I won’t be, as long as I’ve got any life in me.
Sir Thomas, Whither were you a-going?
Sir Thomas, Where are you off to?
To the cardinal’s: Your lordship is a guest too.
To the cardinal’s: Your lordship is a guest there too.
O, ’tis true: This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.
Oh, it’s true: Tonight he’s hosting a big dinner, a really big one, For many lords and ladies; I assure you, It will be the most beautiful gathering in this kingdom.
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall every where.
That churchman really knows how to be generous, His hand is as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His blessings are everywhere.
No doubt he’s noble; He had a black mouth that said other of him.
No doubt he’s noble; But someone with a bad reputation said otherwise.
He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: Men of his way should be most liberal; They are set here for examples.
He may be, my lord; he’s certainly capable: in his case, Being stingy would be a worse sin than bad teachings: Men like him should be the most generous; They are here to set an example.
True, they are so: But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else; which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford This night to be comptrollers.
True, they are: But few now give as much as he does. My boat is waiting; Your lordship should come with me. Come, good Sir Thomas, We’ll be late otherwise, and I wouldn’t want that, Because I was asked by Sir Henry Guildford To be comptrollers tonight.
I am your lordship’s.
I am at your lordship’s service.