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Modern English
Speak to the business, master-secretary: Why are we met in council?
Let’s get to the point, master-secretary: Why are we gathered here in council?
Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
If it pleases your honors, The main issue concerns the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Has he had knowledge of it?
Does he know about it?
Yes.
Yes.
Who waits there?
Who is outside?
Without, my noble lords?
Who’s out there, my noble lords?
Yes.
Yes.
My lord archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
My lord archbishop; And has been waiting for half an hour, to know what you want.
Let him come in.
Let him come in.
Your grace may enter now.
Your grace can enter now.
My good lord archbishop, I’m very sorry To sit here at this present, and behold That chair stand empty: but we all are men, In our own natures frail, and capable Of our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailty And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, Have misdemean’d yourself, and not a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains, For so we are inform’d, with new opinions, Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform’d, may prove pernicious.
My good lord archbishop, I’m very sorry To be sitting here right now, and see That chair empty: but we’re all human, Weak by nature, and subject To our flesh; few are angels: from this weakness And lack of wisdom, you, who should be the best teacher, Have misbehaved, and not just a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, by filling The entire realm, through your teachings and your chaplains, With new ideas, many and dangerous; These are heresies, and if not corrected, they could be harmful.
Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses Pace ’em not in their hands to make ’em gentle, But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur ’em, Till they obey the manage. If we suffer, Out of our easiness and childish pity To one man’s honour, this contagious sickness, Farewell all physic: and what follows then? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours, The upper Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
This reformation must be sudden, too, My noble lords; because those who tame wild horses Don’t simply handle them gently, But put harsh bits in their mouths, and spur them, Until they obey the reins. If we let it slide, Out of laziness or childish pity For one man’s honor, this dangerous sickness, Goodbye to all cure: and what comes next? Chaos, rebellions, with a general decay Of the whole state: as, lately, our neighbors, In Upper Germany, can sadly confirm, Still fresh in our memories.
My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Both of my life and office, I have labour’d, And with no little study, that my teaching And the strong course of my authority Might go one way, and safely; and the end Was ever, to do well: nor is there living, I speak it with a single heart, my lords, A man that more detests, more stirs against, Both in his private conscience and his place, Defacers of a public peace, than I do. Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart With less allegiance in it! Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely urge against me.
My good lords, up until now, in all the progress Of my life and my role, I’ve worked hard, And with no small effort, to make sure my teaching And my authority go hand in hand, And always with the goal To do what’s right: nor is there anyone alive, I say this with all sincerity, my lords, Who more despises, who fights harder against, Both in his private conscience and his role, Those who destroy public peace, than I do. I pray heaven, the king may never find a heart With less loyalty in it! People who feed on Envy and petty spite Can hurt even the best. I ask your lordships, That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Whoever they are, may step forward and face me, And openly press their charges.
Nay, my lord, That cannot be: you are a counsellor, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
No, my lord, That can’t happen: you’re a counselor, And by that right, no one dares accuse you.
My lord, because we have business of more moment, We will be short with you. ’Tis his highness’ pleasure, And our consent, for better trial of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower; Where, being but a private man again, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More than, I fear, you are provided for.
My lord, since we have more pressing matters, We’ll be brief with you. It’s the king’s will, And our agreement, that for a fairer trial of you, From here you will be sent to the Tower; Where, as just a private man again, You will see many will dare accuse you openly, More than, I fear, you’re ready for.
Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you; You are always my good friend; if your will pass, I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, You are so merciful: I see your end; ’Tis my undoing: love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, I make as little doubt, as you do conscience In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you; You’re always my good friend; if this is your will, I shall find both your lordship as judge and juror, You’re so merciful: I see what’s coming; It’s my downfall: love and humility, lord, Suit a churchman better than ambition: Win back lost souls with modesty, Don’t cast anyone away. I shall clear myself, Put as much weight as you want on my patience, I have as little doubt, as you do conscience In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, But respect for your position makes me hold back.
My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That’s the plain truth: your painted gloss discovers, To men that understand you, words and weakness.
My lord, my lord, you’re a heretic, That’s the plain truth: your fake appearance shows, To those who understand you, words and weakness.
My Lord of Winchester, you are a little, By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: ’tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
My Lord of Winchester, you’re being a little, With all due respect, too harsh; men of such noble rank, No matter their faults, should still receive respect For what they’ve been: it’s cruel To kick a man when he’s down.
Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so.
Good master secretary, I beg your pardon; you may, of all those here, Be the worst to say that.
Why, my lord?
Why, my lord?
Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
Don’t I know you as a supporter Of this new heresy? you’re not right.
Not sound?
Not right?
Not sound, I say.
Not right, I said.
Would you were half so honest! Men’s prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
I wish you were even half as honest! Then men would pray for you, not fear you.
I shall remember this bold language.
I’ll remember this daring talk.
Do. Remember your bold life too.
Go ahead. Remember your daring life too.
This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords.
This is too much; Stop, for shame, my lords.
I have done.
I’m done.
And I.
And I am too.
Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be convey’d to the Tower a prisoner; There to remain till the king’s further pleasure Be known unto us: are you all agreed, lords?
Then here’s what’s decided, my lord: it’s agreed, I take it, by all voices, that immediately You are to be taken to the Tower as a prisoner; To stay there until the king’s next orders Are given to us: are you all in agreement, lords?
We are.
We are.
Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?
Is there no other way to show mercy, But that I must go to the Tower, my lords?
What other Would you expect? you are strangely troublesome. Let some o’ the guard be ready there.
What else Did you expect? You’re being incredibly difficult. Let some of the guards be ready there.
For me? Must I go like a traitor thither?
For me? Do I have to go like a traitor?
Receive him, And see him safe i’ the Tower.
Take him, And make sure he’s safe in the Tower.
Stay, good my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; By virtue of that ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Wait, please, my lords, I still have a little to say. Look here, my lords; With this ring, I take my case Out of the hands of cruel men and give it To the most noble judge, the king, my master.
This is the king’s ring.
This is the king’s ring.
’Tis no counterfeit.
It’s not a fake.
’Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When ye first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, ’Twould fall upon ourselves.
It’s the real ring, I swear: I told you all, When we first set this dangerous situation in motion, It would end up hurting us.
Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex’d?
Do you really think, my lords, The king will let even the smallest harm Come to this man?
’Tis now too certain: How much more is his life in value with him? Would I were fairly out on’t!
It’s now too obvious: How much more important is his life to him? I wish I were safely out of this situation!
My mind gave me, In seeking tales and informations Against this man, whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at, Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye!
I had a feeling, That in seeking accusations and reports Against this man, whose honesty the devil And his followers alone envy, You stoked the fire that now burns you: now face the consequences!
Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; Not only good and wise, but most religious: One that, in all obedience, makes the church The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen That holy duty, out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
Most powerful sovereign, how grateful we should be to heaven Every day, for giving us such a king; Not only good and wise, but deeply religious: One who, in complete obedience, makes the church The highest priority of his honor; and, to support That holy duty, out of deep respect, He himself comes to judge The case between her and this great offender.
You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence; They are too thin and bare to hide offences. To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But, whatsoe’er thou takest me for, I’m sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.
You’ve always been good at quick compliments, Bishop of Winchester. But know this, I’m not here To listen to flattery now, not in front of me; It’s too weak and obvious to cover up wrongdoings. You can’t reach me, you act like a lapdog, And think that wagging your tongue will win me over; But whatever you think I am, I know You have a cruel and bloody nature.
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: By all that’s holy, he had better starve Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the boldest Of you, who dares to raise even a finger against you: By all that’s holy, he’d be better off starving Than to ever think this place isn’t right for you.
May it please your grace,--
If it pleases your grace,--
No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought I had had men of some understanding And wisdom of my council; but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, This good man,--few of you deserve that title,-- This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy At chamber--door? and one as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye Power as he was a counsellor to try him, Not as a groom: there’s some of ye, I see, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Which ye shall never have while I live.
No, it doesn’t please me. I thought I had men of some sense And wisdom on my council; but I find none. Was it wise, my lords, to let this man, This good man,--few of you deserve that title,-- This honest man, wait like a lowly servant At the door? And someone as important as you? What a disgrace! Did my order Tell you to forget yourselves like this? I gave you Power as a counselor to test him, Not as a servant: some of you, I see, Were more motivated by malice than fairness, And would have tested him to the extreme, if you could; But that will never happen while I’m alive.
Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed Concerning his imprisonment, was rather, If there be faith in men, meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice, I’m sure, in me.
So far, My most noble sovereign, may it please your grace To allow my words to explain everything. What was planned Concerning his imprisonment, was more about, If there’s any truth in people, his trial, And a fair clearing of his name to the world, than any malice, I’m sure, on my part.
Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well, he’s worthy of it. I will say thus much for him, if a prince May be beholding to a subject, I Am, for his love and service, so to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him: Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me; That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him and treat him well, he deserves it. I will say this much for him, if a prince Owes anything to a subject, I Am grateful for his loyalty and service. Don’t make this more complicated, just embrace him: Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury, I have a request you can’t deny me; That is, a young maid who still needs baptism, You must be her godfather and answer for her.
The greatest monarch now alive may glory In such an honour: how may I deserve it That am a poor and humble subject to you?
The greatest king alive may take pride In such an honor: how can I deserve it, I, a poor and humble subject to you?
Come, come, my lord, you’ld spare your spoons: you shall have two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace and love this man.
Come, come, my lord, you’d save your effort: you will have two noble companions with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these be alright with you? Once again, my Lord of Winchester, I order you, Embrace and love this man.
With a true heart And brother-love I do it.
With a sincere heart And brotherly love, I do it.
And let heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
And let heaven Witness, how much I value this confirmation.
Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart: The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus, ’Do my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.’ Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long To have this young one made a Christian. As I have made ye one, lords, one remain; So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
Good man, those joyful tears show your true heart: The common opinion, I see, is true Of you, which says, ’Do my Lord of Canterbury A good turn, and he’ll be your friend forever.’ Come, lords, we’re wasting time; I’m eager To have this young one made a Christian. Just as I’ve made you one, lords, one remains; So I grow stronger, and you gain more honor.