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Modern English
It’s one o’clock, boy, is’t not?
It’s one o’clock, boy, isn’t it?
It hath struck.
It has struck.
These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas! Whither so late?
This is the time for necessities, Not for pleasures; a time to rest our bodies And not for us to waste it. Good evening, Sir Thomas! Where are you going so late?
Came you from the king, my lord
Did you come from the king, my lord?
I did, Sir Thomas: and left him at primero With the Duke of Suffolk.
I did, Sir Thomas: and left him playing cards With the Duke of Suffolk.
I must to him too, Before he go to bed. I’ll take my leave.
I must see him too, Before he goes to bed. I’ll take my leave.
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What’s the matter? It seems you are in haste: an if there be No great offence belongs to’t, give your friend Some touch of your late business: affairs, that walk, As they say spirits do, at midnight, have In them a wilder nature than the business That seeks dispatch by day.
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What’s going on? You seem in a hurry: and if it’s not A big deal, let me in on your business: things that happen, Like spirits, in the middle of the night, are Often wilder than the things that happen by day.
My lord, I love you; And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The queen’s in labour, They say, in great extremity; and fear’d She’ll with the labour end.
My lord, I trust you; And I would share a secret with you, One much heavier than this. The queen is in labor, They say, in great pain; and they fear She may die in childbirth.
The fruit she goes with I pray for heartily, that it may find Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb’d up now.
I pray the baby she carries Arrives safely, and lives: but as for the queen, Sir Thomas, I wish she were out of the picture now.
Methinks I could Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says She’s a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes.
I think I could Say “amen” to that; yet my conscience tells me She’s a good woman, and, sweet lady, she deserves Our better wishes.
But, sir, sir, Hear me, Sir Thomas: you’re a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; And, let me tell you, it will ne’er be well, ’Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take’t of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves.
But, sir, sir, Listen to me, Sir Thomas: you’re a man of my way of thinking; I know you’re wise and religious; And, let me tell you, it won’t end well, It won’t, Sir Thomas Lovell, mark my words, Until Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Are all in their graves.
Now, sir, you speak of two The most remark’d i’ the kingdom. As for Cromwell, Beside that of the jewel house, is made master O’ the rolls, and the king’s secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, With which the time will load him. The archbishop Is the king’s hand and tongue; and who dare speak One syllable against him?
Now, sir, you’re talking about two Of the most notable men in the kingdom. As for Cromwell, Apart from his position with the jewel house, he’s been made master Of the rolls and the king’s secretary; furthermore, sir, He’s in line for even more promotions, Which time will bring him. The archbishop Is the king’s hand and voice; and who would dare speak Against him?
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare; and I myself have ventured To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day, Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have Incensed the lords o’ the council, that he is, For so I know he is, they know he is, A most arch heretic, a pestilence That does infect the land: with which they moved Have broken with the king; who hath so far Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded To-morrow morning to the council-board He be convented. He’s a rank weed, Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are those who dare; and I’ve spoken out myself To voice my thoughts on him: and in fact, today, Sir, I can tell you, I think I’ve Angered the council lords, because he is, As I know he is, they know he is, A notorious heretic, a plague That’s infecting the land: and because of this, They’ve taken it up with the king; who has so far Listened to our complaint, with his great kindness And concern for the nation’s ills, And has ordered that tomorrow morning he be called to the council. He’s a dangerous weed, Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. I’m taking too much of your time, Good night, Sir Thomas.
Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant.
Good night, my lord: I remain your servant.
Charles, I will play no more tonight; My mind’s not on’t; you are too hard for me.
Charles, I won’t play anymore tonight; I can’t focus; you’re too good for me.
Sir, I did never win of you before.
Sir, I’ve never won against you before.
But little, Charles; Nor shall not, when my fancy’s on my play. Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Only a little, Charles; And I won’t, when I’m not in the mood to play. Now, Lovell, what’s the latest from the queen?
I could not personally deliver to her What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message; who return’d her thanks In the great’st humbleness, and desired your highness Most heartily to pray for her.
I couldn’t deliver your message to her directly, But I sent it through her maid; She replied with the greatest thanks, And asked your highness to pray for her from the heart.
What say’st thou, ha? To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
What did she say? Ha? Pray for her? Is she in pain?
So said her woman; and that her sufferance made Almost each pang a death.
That’s what her maid said; and that her suffering was so great That each pain felt like dying.
Alas, good lady!
Poor lady!
God safely quit her of her burthen, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your highness with an heir!
May God free her from her burden, And with gentle labor, may she bring joy To your highness with an heir!
’Tis midnight, Charles; Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; For I must think of that which company Would not be friendly to.
It’s midnight, Charles; Please, go to bed; and in your prayers, remember The state of my poor queen. Leave me now; I must think about things that company Wouldn’t understand.
I wish your highness A quiet night; and my good mistress will Remember in my prayers.
I wish your highness A peaceful night; and I will remember my good mistress In my prayers.
Charles, good night.
Charles, good night.
Well, sir, what follows?
Well, sir, what happens next?
Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, As you commanded me.
Sir, I’ve brought my lord the archbishop, Just as you asked me to.
Ha! Canterbury?
Ha! Canterbury?
Ay, my good lord.
Yes, my lord.
’Tis true: where is he, Denny?
That’s right: where is he, Denny?
He attends your highness’ pleasure.
He’s waiting for your highness’s command.
[Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake: I am happily come hither.
[Aside] This must be about what the bishop said: I’ve come at a good time.
Avoid the gallery.
Stay out of the gallery.
Ha! I have said. Be gone. What!
Ha! I’ve spoken. Go away. What!
[Aside] I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus? ’Tis his aspect of terror. All’s not well.
[Aside] I’m worried: why does he look so angry? It’s his terrifying expression. Something’s wrong.
How now, my lord! you desire to know Wherefore I sent for you.
So, my lord! You want to know Why I sent for you?
[Kneeling] It is my duty To attend your highness’ pleasure.
[Kneeling] It’s my duty To serve your highness’s will.
Pray you, arise, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, And am right sorry to repeat what follows I have, and most unwillingly, of late Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider’d, Have moved us and our council, that you shall This morning come before us; where, I know, You cannot with such freedom purge yourself, But that, till further trial in those charges Which will require your answer, you must take Your patience to you, and be well contented To make your house our Tower: you a brother of us, It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Would come against you.
Please, rise, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I need to walk together for a bit; I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good lord, I’m sad about what I have to say, And I’m really sorry to repeat what follows I have, and most reluctantly, recently Heard many serious, I really mean it, my lord, Serious complaints about you; which, when considered, Have caused us and our council to decide that you should Come before us this morning; where, I know, You can’t freely clear your name, But until further investigation into those charges Which will require your response, you must be Patient, and accept that Your house will be like our Tower: you, a brother to us, It’s right that we proceed this way, or else no witness Would be able to testify against you.
[Kneeling] I humbly thank your highness; And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow’d, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, There’s none stands under more calumnious tongues Than I myself, poor man.
[Kneeling] I humbly thank your highness; And I’m very glad to have this opportunity To be thoroughly tested, where my bad parts And good parts will be separated: because I know, No one is spoken of with more false accusations Than I am, poor man.
Stand up, good Canterbury: Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up: Prithee, let’s walk. Now, by my holidame. What manner of man are you? My lord, I look’d You would have given me your petition, that I should have ta’en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you, Without indurance, further.
Stand up, good Canterbury: Your truth and integrity are firmly rooted In me, your friend: give me your hand, stand up: Please, let’s walk. Now, by my holy word, What kind of man are you? My lord, I thought You would have given me your petition, asking That I should have made some effort to bring together You and your accusers; and to have listened to you, Without delay, further.
Most dread liege, The good I stand on is my truth and honesty: If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, Will triumph o’er my person; which I weigh not, Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me.
Most dread sovereign, The good I stand on is my truth and honesty: If they should fail, I, with my enemies, Will be defeated in front of everyone; which I don’t fear, Since I’d be empty of those virtues. I fear nothing That could be said against me.
Know you not How your state stands i’ the world, with the whole world? Your enemies are many, and not small; their practises Must bear the same proportion; and not ever The justice and the truth o’ the question carries The due o’ the verdict with it: at what ease Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt To swear against you? such things have been done. You are potently opposed; and with a malice Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, I mean, in perjured witness, than your master, Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; You take a precipice for no leap of danger, And woo your own destruction.
Don’t you know How your position stands in the world, with the whole world? Your enemies are many, and not small; their schemes Must be as large as their numbers; and not always Does justice and truth of the matter win The proper verdict: how easily Might corrupt minds hire dishonest men To swear against you? such things have happened. You are strongly opposed; and with as much malice As great as theirs. Do you think you’ll have better luck I mean, with false witnesses, than your master, Whose servant you are, while he lived On this wicked earth? Come on, come on; You’re taking a great risk where none is necessary, And courting your own downfall.
God and your majesty Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me!
God and your majesty Protect my innocence, or I’ll fall into The trap that’s been set for me!
Be of good cheer; They shall no more prevail than we give way to. Keep comfort to you; and this morning see You do appear before them: if they shall chance, In charging you with matters, to commit you, The best persuasions to the contrary Fail not to use, and with what vehemency The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties Will render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them. Look, the good man weeps! He’s honest, on mine honour. God’s blest mother! I swear he is true--hearted; and a soul None better in my kingdom. Get you gone, And do as I have bid you.
Be of good cheer; They won’t succeed any more than we allow them to. Stay calm; and this morning make sure You appear before them: if they should happen, To charge you with anything, and detain you, Use all your efforts to argue against it, And with whatever passion the situation demands: If pleading fails to help, this ring Give them, and your appeal to us Make right in front of them. Look, the good man weeps! He’s honest, I swear on my honour. God’s blessed mother! I swear he is truly faithful; and a soul No better exists in my kingdom. Go on, And do as I’ve instructed you.
He has strangled His language in his tears.
He’s choked up His words with tears.
[Within] Come back: what mean you?
[Within] Come back: what are you doing?
I’ll not come back; the tidings that I bring Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels Fly o’er thy royal head, and shade thy person Under their blessed wings!
I won’t come back; the news I bring Will make my boldness seem polite. Now, good angels Fly over your royal head, and shelter you Under their blessed wings!
Now, by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver’d? Say, ay; and of a boy.
Now, by your look I can guess your message. Is the queen in labour? Say yes; and is it a boy?
Ay, ay, my liege; And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven Both now and ever bless her! ’tis a girl, Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen Desires your visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger ’tis as like you As cherry is to cherry.
Yes, yes, my lord; And a beautiful boy: may the God of heaven Bless her now and forever! It’s a girl, But promises boys in the future. Sir, your queen Wants to see you, and to meet this stranger who Is as much like you As cherries are to cherries.
Lovell!
Lovell!
Sir?
Sir?
Give her an hundred marks. I’ll to the queen.
Give her a hundred marks. I’ll go to the queen.
An hundred marks! By this light, I’ll ha’ more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. I will have more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the girl was like to him? I will have more, or else unsay’t; and now, While it is hot, I’ll put it to the issue.
A hundred marks! By God, I want more. An ordinary servant gets that much. I’ll demand more, or I’ll yell at him until he gives it. Did I agree to this, just because the girl was similar to him? I’ll have more, or else take it back; and now, While this is still fresh, I’ll take action.