Original
Modern English
Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles; Sing, and disperse ’em, if thou canst: leave working.
Take your lute, girl: my soul is weighed down with troubles; Sing, and scatter them, if you can: stop working.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bowed down when he played: To his music, plants and flowers Always grew; as if the sun and rain Had made a never-ending spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the waves of the sea, Dropped their heads, and then settled down. In sweet music is such magic, That sorrow and heartache Fall asleep, or, listening, die.
How now!
What is it now?
An’t please your grace, the two great cardinals Wait in the presence.
If it pleases your grace, the two great cardinals Are waiting in the presence.
Would they speak with me?
Do they want to speak with me?
They will’d me say so, madam.
They asked me to say so, madam.
Pray their graces To come near.
Please tell them To come closer.
What can be their business With me, a poor weak woman, fall’n from favour? I do not like their coming. Now I think on’t, They should be good men; their affairs as righteous: But all hoods make not monks.
What could their business Be with me, a poor, weak woman, fallen from favor? I don’t like this visit. Now that I think about it, They should be good men; their cause seems just: But not every hooded man is a monk.
Peace to your highness!
Peace to your highness!
Your graces find me here part of a housewife, I would be all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
You find me here, part of a simple housewife, But I would be completely so, if the worst were to happen. What do you want with me, my lords?
May it please you noble madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber, we shall give you The full cause of our coming.
If it pleases you, noble lady, please withdraw Into your private room, and we will explain The full reason for our visit.
Speak it here: There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience, Deserves a corner: would all other women Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! My lords, I care not, so much I am happy Above a number, if my actions Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw ’em, Envy and base opinion set against ’em, I know my life so even. If your business Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.
Speak here: There’s nothing I’ve done yet, honestly, That deserves any shame: I wish all women Could speak this openly, like I do! My lords, I don’t care, I am so content Above others, that if my actions Were judged by every voice, every eye watched them, With envy and false judgment against them, I know my life so well. If your purpose Concerns me, and if it’s about my marriage, Say it clearly: truth loves honest dealings.
Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,--
Your integrity, most noble queen, Is so complete and pure,--
O, good my lord, no Latin; I am not such a truant since my coming, As not to know the language I have lived in: A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious; Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you, If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ sake; Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal, The willing’st sin I ever yet committed May be absolved in English.
Oh, please, my lord, no Latin; I’m not so ignorant since I came here, That I don’t understand the language I’ve lived in: A foreign tongue makes my situation seem more strange, And suspicious; Please, speak in English: some here will thank you, If you speak the truth, for their poor mistress’ sake; Believe me, she’s been wronged: lord cardinal, The worst sin I ever committed Could be forgiven in English.
Noble lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed, And service to his majesty and you, So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accusation, To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, Nor to betray you any way to sorrow, You have too much, good lady; but to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the king and you; and to deliver, Like free and honest men, our just opinions And comforts to your cause.
Noble lady, I regret that my honesty has caused Such suspicion, where I meant only loyalty To his majesty and to you. We are not here to accuse, Or tarnish that honor everyone praises, Nor to bring you further grief, You’ve had too much already, good lady; but to understand How you feel about the serious issue Between the king and you; and to share, As honest men, our true opinions And advice for your cause.
Most honour’d madam, My Lord of York, out of his noble nature, Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace, Forgetting, like a good man your late censure Both of his truth and him, which was too far, Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, His service and his counsel.
Most honored lady, My Lord of York, from his noble nature, His zeal and obedience to you, Has forgiven, like a good man, your recent judgment Of his truth and him, which went too far, And offers, as I do, a sign of peace, His service and counsel.
[Aside] To betray me.-- My lords, I thank you both for your good wills; Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so! But how to make ye suddenly an answer, In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,-- More near my life, I fear,--with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids: full little, God knows, looking Either for such men or such business. For her sake that I have been,--for I feel The last fit of my greatness,--good your graces, Let me have time and counsel for my cause: Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!
[Aside] To betray me.-- My lords, I thank you both for your good intentions; You speak like honest men; I pray you prove so! But how can I give you an answer so quickly, On such an important matter, so close to my honor,-- More importantly, my life, I fear,--with my weak mind, And to such learned men, Honestly, I don’t know. I was just occupied Among my ladies: little, God knows, did I expect Either such men or such matters. For the sake of my past position,--for I feel The last moment of my greatness,--please, your graces, Let me have time and advice for my case: Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!
Madam, you wrong the king’s love with these fears: Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Madam, you do injustice to the king’s love with these fears: Your hopes and allies are countless.
In England But little for my profit: can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel? Or be a known friend, ’gainst his highness’ pleasure, Though he be grown so desperate to be honest, And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, live not here: They are, as all my other comforts, far hence In mine own country, lords.
In England They offer me little help: do you think, my lords, That any Englishman would dare advise me? Or be known as a friend, against the king’s will, Even if he were so brave as to be honest, And still be a subject? No, truly, my friends, Those who must weigh my troubles, Those whom I must trust, do not live here: They are, like all my other comforts, far away In my own country, lords.
I would your grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
I wish, your grace, That you would leave your griefs behind and take my advice.
How, sir?
How, sir?
Put your main cause into the king’s protection; He’s loving and most gracious: ’twill be much Both for your honour better and your cause; For if the trial of the law o’ertake ye, You’ll part away disgraced.
Put your main case under the king’s protection; He’s loving and most gracious: it will be much Better for both your honor and your case; For if the trial of the law overtakes you, You’ll leave disgraced.
He tells you rightly.
He speaks rightly.
Ye tell me what ye wish for both,--my ruin: Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge That no king can corrupt.
You speak what you want, my ruin: Is this your Christian advice? Shame on you! Heaven is above all; there sits a judge Whom no king can corrupt.
Your rage mistakes us.
Your anger misjudges us.
The more shame for ye: holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye: Mend ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady, A woman lost among ye, laugh’d at, scorn’d? I will not wish ye half my miseries; I have more charity: but say, I warn’d ye; Take heed, for heaven’s sake, take heed, lest at once The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.
The more shame on you: I thought you were holy men, On my soul, two wise and virtuous cardinals; But I fear you’re just full of sins and empty hearts: Fix them, for shame, my lords. Is this what you’re offering me? The comfort you give a poor lady, A woman lost among you, laughed at, scorned? I won’t wish you even half my miseries; I have more kindness than that: but I did warn you; Take care, for heaven’s sake, take care, or all at once The weight of my sorrows will fall on you.
Madam, this is a mere distraction; You turn the good we offer into envy.
Madam, this is just a distraction; You turn the good we offer into envy.
Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye And all such false professors! would you have me-- If you have any justice, any pity; If ye be any thing but churchmen’s habits-- Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas, has banish’d me his bed already, His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this.
You turn me into nothing: woe to you And all such false professors! Would you have me-- If you have any justice, any pity; If you are anything more than just priests-- Hand my sick case to the man who hates me? Alas, he has already banished me from his bed, His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords, And the only relationship I have with him now Is just my obedience. What else can happen To me worse than this? All your actions Have made me a curse like this.
Your fears are worse.
Your fears are worse.
Have I lived thus long--let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one? A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections Still met the king? loved him next heaven? obey’d him? Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? Almost forgot my prayers to content him? And am I thus rewarded? ’tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne’er dream’d a joy beyond his pleasure; And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.
Have I lived this long--let me speak for myself, Since virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one? A woman, I dare say without vanity, Never yet suspected of dishonesty? Have I, with all my full love Always been loyal to the king? Loved him like heaven? Obeyed him? Been, out of affection, superstitious to him? Almost forgotten my prayers to please him? And this is how I’m repaid? It’s not right, lords. Bring me a faithful woman to her husband, One who never dreamed of happiness beyond his pleasure; And even for that woman, after she’s done everything, I would still give her the honor of great patience.
Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
Madam, you’re straying from the good we’re aiming for.
My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, To give up willingly that noble title Your master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e’er divorce my dignities.
My lord, I can’t make myself guilty of this, To willingly give up the noble title That your master gave me when he married me: nothing but death Shall ever separate me from my dignity.
Pray, hear me.
Please, listen to me.
Would I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady! I am the most unhappy woman living. Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes! Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me; Almost no grave allow’d me: like the lily, That once was mistress of the field and flourish’d, I’ll hang my head and perish.
I wish I had never stepped foot on this English soil, Or felt the flatteries that come with it! You have angelic faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will happen to me now, poor woman! I am the most miserable woman alive. Alas, poor girls, where are your fortunes now? Shipwrecked on a kingdom where there’s no pity, No friends, no hope; no family mourns for me; Almost no grave allowed for me: like the lily, That once was queen of the field and bloomed, I’ll hang my head and die.
If your grace Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, You’ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places, The way of our profession is against it: We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ’em. For goodness’ sake, consider what you do; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the king’s acquaintance, by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. I know you have a gentle, noble temper, A soul as even as a calm: pray, think us Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.
If your grace Could only see that our intentions are honest, You’d feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, With what reason, wrong you? Alas, our positions, The nature of our profession, make it impossible: We are here to heal such sorrows, not to cause them. For goodness’ sake, think about what you’re doing; How you might hurt yourself, yes, completely Fall out of the king’s favor by acting this way. The hearts of kings value obedience, They love it so much; but to stubborn people They become harsh, like terrible storms. I know you have a gentle, noble nature, A soul as calm as a peaceful day: please, think of us As we claim to be, peacemakers, friends, and servants.
Madam, you’ll find it so. You wrong your virtues With these weak women’s fears: a noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you; Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please To trust us in your business, we are ready To use our utmost studies in your service.
Madam, you’ll see it’s true. You wrong your virtues With these weak fears of women: a noble spirit, Like yours, always casts Such doubts, like false coins, away. The king loves you; Be careful not to lose that love: if you’ll trust Us with your affairs, we’re ready To do our utmost for you.
Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me, If I have used myself unmannerly; You know I am a woman, lacking wit To make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray, do my service to his majesty: He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs, That little thought, when she set footing here, She should have bought her dignities so dear.
Do as you will, my lords: and, please, forgive me, If I’ve acted improperly; You know I’m a woman, lacking the wit To give a proper answer to such men. Please, tell my service to the king: He still has my heart; and will have my prayers As long as I have my life. Come, holy fathers, Share your advice with me: she now begs, That little did she think, when she first arrived here, That she would have to pay so dearly for her title.