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Modern English
Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us?
Now, tell me, Chatillon, what does France want with us?
Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France In my behavior to the majesty, The borrow’d majesty, of England here.
After greetings, this is what the King of France says Through me, addressing the borrowed majesty Of England here.
A strange beginning: ’borrow’d majesty!’
A strange start: ’borrowed majesty!’
Silence, good mother; hear the embassy.
Silence, good mother; let him finish the message.
Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey’s son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put these same into young Arthur’s hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign.
Philip of France, on behalf of your late brother Geoffrey’s son, Arthur Plantagenet, makes a rightful claim To this fair island and its territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, and Maine, Asking you to put down the sword That unjustly holds these lands, And give them to young Arthur, Your nephew and rightful ruler.
What follows if we disallow of this?
What happens if we refuse this?
The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.
The fierce and bloody war that will force you To give up these lands that you are holding unfairly.
Here have we war for war and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment: so answer France.
So we have war for war, and blood for blood, Control for control: that’s France’s response.
Then take my king’s defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit of my embassy.
Then take my king’s challenge, that’s the full extent Of my mission.
Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace: Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere thou canst report I will be there, The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath And sullen presage of your own decay. An honourable conduct let him have: Pembroke, look to ’t. Farewell, Chatillon.
Take mine to him, and leave in peace: Be like lightning in the eyes of France; Before you can report, I’ll already be there, The thunder of my cannons will be heard: Now go! Be the trumpet of our rage And a grim omen of your own downfall. Give him an honorable escort: Pembroke, take care of it. Farewell, Chatillon.
What now, my son! have I not ever said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world, Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.
What now, my son! Haven’t I always told you How that ambitious Constance wouldn’t stop Until she had stirred up France and the whole world, In support of her son’s claim? This could have been avoided and fixed With very simple arguments of love, But now the management of two kingdoms will have to Be settled with a fearful, bloody outcome.
Our strong possession and our right for us.
Our strong hold and our right are on our side.
Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me: So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear.
Your strong hold is much more important than your right, Or else things will go badly for both you and me: That’s what my conscience whispers in your ear, A secret only heaven, you, and I shall know.
My liege, here is the strangest controversy Come from country to be judged by you, That e’er I heard: shall I produce the men?
My lord, here’s the strangest dispute Come from the countryside to be judged by you, The oddest thing I’ve ever heard: should I bring the men in?
Let them approach. Our abbeys and our priories shall pay This expedition’s charge.
Let them come forward. Our abbeys and priories will cover The costs of this investigation.
What men are you?
What men are you?
Your faithful subject I, a gentleman Born in Northamptonshire and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A soldier, by the honour-giving hand Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field.
Your loyal subject, I, a gentleman Born in Northamptonshire and eldest son, As I believe, to Robert Faulconbridge, A soldier, knighted in the field By the honor-giving hand of Coeur-de-lion.
What art thou?
Who are you?
The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge.
The son and heir of that same Faulconbridge.
Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? You came not of one mother then, it seems.
Is he the older one, and are you the heir? You weren’t born of the same mother, it seems.
Most certain of one mother, mighty king; That is well known; and, as I think, one father: But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o’er to heaven and to my mother: Of that I doubt, as all men’s children may.
Definitely the same mother, mighty king; That’s well known; and, as I think, the same father: But for the certainty of that truth, I leave it to heaven and to my mother: I’m not sure, as no man can be sure about their parentage.
Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother And wound her honour with this diffidence.
Shame on you, rude man! You disgrace your mother And wound her honor with such doubt.
I, madam? no, I have no reason for it; That is my brother’s plea and none of mine; The which if he can prove, a’ pops me out At least from fair five hundred pound a year: Heaven guard my mother’s honour and my land!
Me, madam? No, I have no reason to do that; That’s my brother’s argument, not mine; If he can prove it, he’ll kick me out And I’ll lose at least five hundred pounds a year: Heaven protect my mother’s honor and my land!
A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?
A good straightforward guy. Why, since he’s born younger, Does he claim your inheritance?
I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slander’d me with bastardy: But whether I be as true begot or no, That still I lay upon my mother’s head, But that I am as well begot, my liege,-- Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!-- Compare our faces and be judge yourself. If old sir Robert did beget us both And were our father and this son like him, O old sir Robert, father, on my knee I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee!
I don’t know why, except to get the land. But he once slandered me, saying I was illegitimate: But whether I was truly fathered or not, That still falls on my mother’s head, But that I was well fathered, my lord,-- Praise to the bones that went through the effort for me!-- Compare our faces and judge for yourself. If old Sir Robert fathered us both And was our father, and this son is like him, Oh old Sir Robert, father, on my knees I thank heaven I was not like you!
Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!
Why, what a fool has heaven sent us here!
He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion’s face; The accent of his tongue affecteth him. Do you not read some tokens of my son In the large composition of this man?
He has a trick of Coeur-de-lion’s face; The way he talks is like him. Don’t you see some resemblance to my son In the way this man is made?
Mine eye hath well examined his parts And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, What doth move you to claim your brother’s land?
My eyes have carefully examined his features And find them perfect for Richard. Hey, speak, What makes you claim your brother’s land?
Because he hath a half-face, like my father. With half that face would he have all my land: A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year!
Because he has half my father’s face. With half that face, he wants all my land: A half-faced penny gets five hundred pounds a year!
My gracious liege, when that my father lived, Your brother did employ my father much,--
My gracious lord, when my father was alive, Your brother relied on my father a lot,--
Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: Your tale must be how he employ’d my mother.
Well, sir, this won’t get you my land: Your story must explain how he worked with my mother.
And once dispatch’d him in an embassy To Germany, there with the emperor To treat of high affairs touching that time. The advantage of his absence took the king And in the mean time sojourn’d at my father’s; Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay, As I have heard my father speak himself, When this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath’d His lands to me, and took it on his death That this my mother’s son was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father’s land, as was my father’s will.
And once sent him on a mission To Germany, to the emperor To discuss important matters of the time. The king took advantage of his absence And in the meantime stayed at my father’s; How he succeeded, I’m too ashamed to say, But truth is truth: there were long stretches of sea and shore Between my father and my mother, As I’ve heard my father say himself, When this lively man was conceived. On his deathbed, he left His lands to me, and swore on his death That this son of my mother’s was not his; And if he was, he arrived in the world A full fourteen weeks before he should have. So, good lord, let me have what is mine, My father’s land, as my father willed.
Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; Your father’s wife did after wedlock bear him, And if she did play false, the fault was hers; Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, Had of your father claim’d this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf bred from his cow from all the world; In sooth he might; then, if he were my brother’s, My brother might not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes; My mother’s son did get your father’s heir; Your father’s heir must have your father’s land.
Hey, your brother is legitimate; Your father’s wife did bear him after marriage, And if she did cheat, that was her fault; Which is a risk all husbands take When they marry wives. Tell me, what if my brother, Who, as you say, worked hard to have this son, Had claimed this son as his? Honestly, my friend, your father could have kept This calf born to his cow away from the world; He could have; then, if he were my brother’s, My brother could not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, could refuse him: this proves it; My mother’s son fathered your father’s heir; Your father’s heir must inherit your father’s land.
Shall then my father’s will be of no force To dispossess that child which is not his?
So my father’s will will have no power To take the land from the child who isn’t his?
Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will to get me, as I think.
It has no more power to dispossess me, sir, Than it had to make me, I think.
Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, Lord of thy presence and no land beside?
Would you rather be a Faulconbridge And, like your brother, enjoy your land, Or the supposed son of Coeur-de-lion, Lord of your presence but with no land?
Madam, an if my brother had my shape, And I had his, sir Robert’s his, like him; And if my legs were two such riding-rods, My arms such eel-skins stuff’d, my face so thin That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose Lest men should say ’Look, where three-farthings goes!’ And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, Would I might never stir from off this place, I would give it every foot to have this face; I would not be sir Nob in any case.
Madam, if my brother had my looks, And I had his, Sir Robert’s, like him; And if my legs were two such riding sticks, My arms like eel-skins stuffed, my face so thin That I couldn’t dare stick a rose in my ear Lest people say ‘Look, there goes a three-penny coin!’ And, if in addition, he were heir to all this land, I’d rather not move from here, I’d give up every inch of it for this face; I would not want to be Sir Nob in any case.
I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? I am a soldier and now bound to France.
I like you well: would you forsake your fortune, Give your land to him, and follow me? I’m a soldier and now bound for France.
Brother, take you my land, I’ll take my chance. Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, Yet sell your face for five pence and ’tis dear. Madam, I’ll follow you unto the death.
Brother, take my land, I’ll take my chances. Your face has earned five hundred pounds a year, Yet if you sold your face for five pence, it’d be too expensive. Madam, I’ll follow you to the death.
Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
No, I want you to go ahead of me there.
Our country manners give our betters way.
Our manners in this country show respect to our superiors.
What is thy name?
What is your name?
Philip, my liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old sir Robert’s wife’s eldest son.
Philip, my lord, that’s how my name starts, Philip, the oldest son of good old Sir Robert’s wife.
From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear’st: Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great, Arise sir Richard and Plantagenet.
From now on, carry the name of the man whose form you take: Kneel down, Philip, but rise greater, Rise up, Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.
Brother by the mother’s side, give me your hand: My father gave me honour, yours gave land. Now blessed by the hour, by night or day, When I was got, sir Robert was away!
Brother by my mother, give me your hand: My father gave me honor, yours gave land. Now blessed be the hour, whether night or day, When I was conceived, Sir Robert was away!
The very spirit of Plantagenet! I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so.
The very spirit of Plantagenet! I am your grandmother, Richard; call me that.
Madam, by chance but not by truth; what though? Something about, a little from the right, In at the window, or else o’er the hatch: Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, And have is have, however men do catch: Near or far off, well won is still well shot, And I am I, howe’er I was begot.
Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what of it? A little off from the right, In through the window, or over the hatch: Those who won’t move by day must walk by night, And "having" is "having," however it’s caught: Whether near or far, well won is still well earned, And I am I, however I was conceived.
Go, Faulconbridge: now hast thou thy desire; A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed For France, for France, for it is more than need.
Go, Faulconbridge: now you have what you wanted; A landless knight makes you a landed squire. Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must hurry To France, to France, for it is more than urgent.
Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee! For thou wast got i’ the way of honesty.
Brother, goodbye: may good fortune come to you! For you were conceived in the way of honesty.
A foot of honour better than I was; But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. ’Good den, sir Richard!’--’God-a-mercy, fellow!’-- And if his name be George, I’ll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men’s names; ’Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller, He and his toothpick at my worship’s mess, And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, Why then I suck my teeth and catechise My picked man of countries: ’My dear sir,’ Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin, ’I shall beseech you’--that is question now; And then comes answer like an Absey book: ’O sir,’ says answer, ’at your best command; At your employment; at your service, sir;’ ’No, sir,’ says question, ’I, sweet sir, at yours:’ And so, ere answer knows what question would, Saving in dialogue of compliment, And talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean and the river Po, It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society And fits the mounting spirit like myself, For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation; And so am I, whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accoutrement, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age’s tooth: Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? What woman-post is this? hath she no husband That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
A small bit of honor is better than I was; But many, many acres of land are worse. Well, now I can make any Joan a lady. "Good evening, Sir Richard!"—"Thank you, fellow!"— And if his name is George, I’ll call him Peter; For new-made honor forgets people’s names; It’s too formal and too sociable For real change. Now your traveler, He and his toothpick at my meal, And when my knightly appetite is satisfied, Then I suck my teeth and ask questions To my chosen man from other countries: "My dear sir," Thus, leaning on my elbow, I begin, "I shall ask you"—that’s the question now; And then comes the answer like a schoolbook: "Oh sir," says the answer, "at your best command; At your service; at your service, sir;" "No, sir," says the question, "I, sweet sir, at yours:" And so, before the answer knows what the question wanted, Except in polite conversation, And talking about the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenees and the river Po, It all ends with supper. But this is honorable society And fits the rising spirit like me, For someone is a bastard to the times If they don’t seem to observe; And so am I, whether I seem to or not; And not just in appearance and manner, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age’s appetite: Which, though I won’t deceive, I mean to learn, to avoid deceit; For it shall mark the path of my rising. But who is this, riding so quickly? What woman is this? Does she have no husband Who will take the trouble to announce her arrival?
O me! it is my mother. How now, good lady! What brings you here to court so hastily?
Oh no! It’s my mother. What’s going on, good lady? What brings you here to court so quickly?
Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he, That holds in chase mine honour up and down?
Where is that slave, your brother? Where is he, The one who chases my honor around?
My brother Robert? old sir Robert’s son? Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? Is it sir Robert’s son that you seek so?
My brother Robert? Sir Robert’s son? Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? Is it Sir Robert’s son you’re looking for?
Sir Robert’s son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, Sir Robert’s son: why scorn’st thou at sir Robert? He is sir Robert’s son, and so art thou.
Sir Robert’s son! Yes, you disrespectful boy, Sir Robert’s son: why do you mock Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert’s son, and so are you.
James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile?
James Gurney, will you give us some time alone?
Good leave, good Philip.
Of course, Philip.
Philip! sparrow: James, There’s toys abroad: anon I’ll tell thee more.
Philip! sparrow: James, There are distractions outside: I’ll tell you more soon.
Madam, I was not old sir Robert’s son: Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good-Friday and ne’er broke his fast: Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess, Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: We know his handiwork: therefore, good mother, To whom am I beholding for these limbs? Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
Madam, I was not Sir Robert’s son: Sir Robert could have eaten his meal on me On Good Friday and not broken his fast: Sir Robert was capable: but to admit, Could he father me? Sir Robert could not do it: We know his work: so, good mother, Who should I thank for these limbs? Sir Robert never helped make this leg.
Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?
Have you conspired with your brother, To defend my honor for your own benefit? What is this disrespect, you most ungrateful fool?
Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like. What! I am dubb’d! I have it on my shoulder. But, mother, I am not sir Robert’s son; I have disclaim’d sir Robert and my land; Legitimation, name and all is gone: Then, good my mother, let me know my father; Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother?
Knight, knight, good mother, like a basilisk. What! I’m knighted! It’s on my shoulder. But, mother, I’m not Sir Robert’s son; I’ve renounced Sir Robert and my land; Legitimacy, name, everything is gone: So, good mother, tell me who my father is; Someone worthy, I hope: who was it, mother?
Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Have you denied being a Faulconbridge?
As faithfully as I deny the devil.
As honestly as I deny the devil.
King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father: By long and vehement suit I was seduced To make room for him in my husband’s bed: Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! Thou art the issue of my dear offence, Which was so strongly urged past my defence.
King Richard Coeur-de-lion was your father: By persistent and passionate pleading, I was seduced To make room for him in my husband’s bed: Heaven, don’t count my wrongdoing against me! You are the result of my great mistake, Which I could not prevent.
Now, by this light, were I to get again, Madam, I would not wish a better father. Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly: Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight, Nor keep his princely heart from Richard’s hand. He that perforce robs lions of their hearts May easily win a woman’s. Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well When I was got, I’ll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin: Who says it was, he lies; I say ’twas not.
Now, by this light, if I were to father a child again, Madam, I would not wish for a better father. Some sins get their own kind of privilege on earth, And so does yours; your mistake was not foolishness: You had to give your heart to his control, Paying tribute to commanding love, Against whose power and unmatched strength Even the fearless lion could not resist, Nor keep his noble heart from Richard’s hand. He who can steal the heart of lions Can easily win a woman’s. Yes, my mother, With all my heart, I thank you for my father! Who lives and dares to say you did wrong When I was conceived, I’ll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I’ll introduce you to my family; And they will say, when Richard begot me, If you had said no to him, it would have been a sin: Whoever says otherwise, is lying; I say it wasn’t.