Original
Modern English
Satis quod sufficit.
Enough is as good as a feast.
I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with- out heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king’s, who is intituled, nomi- nated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.
I thank God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and full of meaning; pleasant without being rude, clever without being affectionate, bold without being shameless, learned without being opinionated, and strange without being heretical. I spoke today with a companion of the king’s, who is named, called, or titled, Don Adriano de Armado.
Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
I know the man like you: his attitude is haughty, his speech commanding, his tongue skilled, his eye proud, his walk royal, and his overall behavior vain, ridiculous, and pompous. He is too fancy, too neat, too affected, too strange, as if he were too much of a wanderer, as I might say.
A most singular and choice epithet.
A very unique and special description.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt,--d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebor; neigh abbreviated ne. This is abhominable,--which he would call abbominable: it insinuateth me of insanie: anne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.
He pulls out the thread of his talk finer than the staple of his argument. I hate such fanatical fantasies, such unsociable and overly careful companions; such mispronouncers of words, like saying dout for doubt, fine when it should be doubt; det when it should be debt,--d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he calls a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour becomes nebor; neighbour shortened to ne. This is awful,--which he would call "abbominable": it suggests madness to me: do you understand, sir? to make crazy, lunatic.
Laus Deo, bene intelligo.
Praise God, I understand well.
Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratch’d, ’twill serve.
Good, good, very good, Priscian! a little off, but it’ll do.
Videsne quis venit?
Do you see who’s coming?
Video, et gaudeo.
I see, and I’m glad.
DON
DON
Chirrah!
Hello!
Quare chirrah, not sirrah? DON
Why "chirrah" and not "sirrah"? DON
Men of peace, well encountered.
Men of peace, it’s good to see you.
Most military sir, salutation.
Most soldierly sir, greetings.
[Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
[Aside to COSTARD] They’ve just had a big feast of fancy words, and taken all the leftovers.
O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.
Oh, they’ve lived off the charity of words. I wonder why your master hasn’t eaten you for a word; because you’re not as long in the head as "honorificabilitudinitatibus": you’re easier to swallow than a flap-dragon.
Peace! the peal begins. DON
Quiet! the noise begins. DON
[To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lettered?
[To HOLOFERNES] Sir, are you not educated?
Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a, b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?
Yes, yes; he teaches boys the alphabet. What is "a," "b," spelled backwards, with the horn on his head?
Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
"Ba," childhood, with a horn added.
Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.
"Ba," a silly sheep with a horn. You can hear his learning.
Quis, quis, thou consonant?
Who, who, you consonant?
The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.
The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.
I will repeat them,--a, e, i,--
I will repeat them,--a, e, i,--
The sheep: the other two concludes it,--o, u. DON
The sheep: the other two finish it,--o, u. DON
Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!
Now, by the salty Mediterranean sea, what a sweet touch, a quick clever reply! snip, snap, fast and right to the point! It pleases my mind: true wit!
Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.
Given by a child to an old man; which is foolish wisdom.
What is the figure? what is the figure?
What is the symbol? What is the symbol?
Horns.
Horns.
Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.
You’re arguing like a baby: go, play with your toy.
Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa,--a gig of a cuckold’s horn.
Give me your horn to make one, and I’ll make fun of your disgrace, a cuckold’s horn.
An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.
If I had just one penny in the world, you’d get it to buy gingerbread: here, take this, it’s the reward I got from your master, you half-wit, you egg-brained fool. Oh, if the heavens were kind enough that you were my illegitimate child, how happy I would be as your father! Go ahead; you’ve got it all from the garbage, as they say.
O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem. DON
Oh, I smell fake Latin; garbage for nail. DON
Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?
Scholar, walk ahead, we’ll be separated from the uncivilized. Don’t you teach the young at the schoolhouse on the top of the mountain?
Or mons, the hill. DON
Or mons, the hill. DON
At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
As you prefer, for the mountain.
I do, sans question. DON
I do, without a doubt. DON
Sir, it is the king’s most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
Sir, it is the king’s greatest joy and love to congratulate the princess at her tent later today, which the common people call the afternoon.
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon: the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. DON
The later part of the day, most kind sir, is appropriate, fitting, and right for the afternoon: the word is well-chosen, sweet and proper, I assure you, sir, I do assure. DON
Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head: and among other important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass. The very all of all is,--but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy,--that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.
Sir, the king is a noble man and my good friend, I assure you: as for what is private between us, let it remain so. I ask you, remember your manners; I ask you, fix your hair: and among other important and serious matters, and really important too, but let that go: for I must tell you, it will please His Majesty, at times, to lean on my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, like this, play with my mustache; but, darling, let that go. I’m not telling a lie: there are certain special honors His Majesty has chosen to give to Armado, a soldier, a man of the world; but let that go. The most important thing is,—but, darling, I beg you, keep it a secret,—the king wants me to present the princess, my dear, with a great performance, or show, or pageant, or fireworks. Now, knowing that you and the curate are good at such bursts of laughter and sudden fun, I’ve told you, to ask for your help.
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistants, at the king’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the princess; I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
Sir, you shall present the Nine Worthies to her. Sir, as for some entertainment of the time, some show later today, to be presented by our helpers, at the king’s command, and this fine, distinguished, and learned gentleman, before the princess; I say no one is better suited than to present the Nine Worthies.
Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?
Where will you find men worthy enough to play them?
Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules,-- DON
Joshua, you; me and this brave man, Judas Maccabeus; this boy, because of his big limb or joint, will be bigger than Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules,-- DON
Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.
Sorry, sir; mistake: he’s not big enough for that great man’s thumb: he’s not as big as the end of his club.
Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.
Should I be heard? he will act Hercules as a young man and his entrance and exit will be him choking a snake; and I’ll need an excuse for that.
An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry ’Well done, Hercules! now thou crushest the snake!’ that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it. DON
A brilliant idea! so, if any of the audience boo, you can shout ’Well done, Hercules! now you are crushing the snake!’ that’s how to turn an insult into something impressive, though not many can do it. DON
For the rest of the Worthies?--
What about the rest of the great men?--
I will play three myself.
I’ll play three of them myself.
Thrice-worthy gentleman! DON
Three-time worthy gentleman! DON
Shall I tell you a thing?
Should I tell you something?
We attend. DON
We’re listening. DON
We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I beseech you, follow.
We’ll have an antique, if this doesn’t work. I beg you, follow me.
Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while.
Come on, goodman Dull! you haven’t said a word all this time.
Nor understood none neither, sir.
And I haven’t understood anything either, sir.
Allons! we will employ thee.
Let’s go! we’ll put you to work.
I’ll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
I’ll join in a dance, or something; or I’ll play the drum for the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away!
Most dull, honest Dull! To our fun, let’s go!
LOVE’S LABOURS LOST
LOVE’S LABOURS LOST