Original
Modern English
attending.
attending.
I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman, That was sent to me from the council, pray’d me To make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho! Who waits there? Sure, you know me?
I hope I’m not too late; but the man, Who was sent to me from the council, urged me To hurry. All locked? What’s going on here? Hey! Who’s there? You know me, don’t you?
Yes, my lord; But yet I cannot help you.
Yes, my lord; But I still can’t help you.
Why?
Why?
Your grace must wait till you be call’d for.
Your grace must wait until you’re called.
So.
I see.
[Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad I came this way so happily: the king Shall understand it presently.
[Aside] This is pure spite. I’m glad I came this way so conveniently: the king Will know about it right away.
[Aside] ’Tis Butts, The king’s physician: as he pass’d along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain, This is of purpose laid by some that hate me-- God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice-- To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor, ’Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures Must be fulfill’d, and I attend with patience.
[Aside] It’s Butts, The king’s doctor: as he walked by, How intently he looked at me! Please God, he didn’t notice my disgrace! For sure, This has been planned by some who hate me-- God change their hearts! I’ve never done anything to deserve their hate-- To destroy my honor: they’d be ashamed to make me Wait outside the door, a fellow-counselor, Among boys, servants, and lackeys. But they have to have their way, And I’ll wait patiently.
I’ll show your grace the strangest sight--
I’ll show you, your majesty, the strangest thing--
What’s that, Butts?
What is it, Butts?
I think your highness saw this many a day.
I think you’ve seen this many times before.
Body o’ me, where is it?
Good heavens, where is it?
There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, ’mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys.
There, my lord: The high position of the Archbishop of Canterbury; He stands at the door, surrounded by his attendants, Pages, and footmen.
Ha! ’tis he, indeed: Is this the honour they do one another? ’Tis well there’s one above ’em yet. I had thought They had parted so much honesty among ’em At least, good manners, as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour, To dance attendance on their lordships’ pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary, Butts, there’s knavery: Let ’em alone, and draw the curtain close: We shall hear more anon.
Ha! It is him, indeed: Is this the kind of respect they show each other? It’s good that there’s still someone above them. I thought They had at least shared enough decency among themselves Or, at the very least, good manners, not to let A man of his position, and so close to our favor, Stand at the door like a messenger with packages. By holy Mary, Butts, this is deceit: Let them be, and pull the curtain shut: We’ll hear more soon.