Original
Modern English
What had he done, to make him fly the land?
What has he done to make him flee the country?
You must have patience, madam.
You need to be patient, madam.
He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.
He had none: His flight was pure madness: when our actions don’t match, Our fears make us traitors.
You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
You don’t know If it was his wisdom or his fear.
Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear and nothing is the love; As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason.
Wisdom! To leave his wife, to leave his children, His house and his titles in a place Where he himself runs away from? He doesn’t love us; He’s lost the natural instinct: even the poor wren, The smallest of birds, will fight, To protect her babies in her nest, against the owl. It’s all about fear and nothing about love; There’s no wisdom, when the flight Goes against all logic.
My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o’ the season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move. I take my leave of you: Shall not be long but I’ll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before. My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you!
My dear cousin, Please, calm yourself: but as for your husband, He is noble, wise, fair-minded, and knows best What the times demand. I can’t speak much more; But the times are cruel, when we’re seen as traitors And don’t even recognize ourselves, when we believe rumors Based on what we fear, but we don’t even know what we fear, Just drifting on a wild and violent sea Going every which way. I’ll leave you now: It won’t be long before I’m back: Things will either improve, or go back To how they were before. My dear cousin, Bless you!
Father’d he is, and yet he’s fatherless.
He had a father, but now he’s fatherless.
I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once.
I’m a fool, if I stay any longer, It would bring me shame and make you more upset: I’ll leave now.
Sirrah, your father’s dead; And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son, your father’s dead; What will you do now? How will you survive?
As birds do, mother.
Like birds do, mother.
What, with worms and flies?
What, with worms and flies?
With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
With whatever I can find, I mean; and so do they.
Poor bird! thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin.
Poor bird! You wouldn’t fear the trap or the snare, The pitfall or the snare.
Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying.
Why should I, mother? Poor birds aren’t meant to be caught. My father isn’t dead, no matter what you say.
Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?
Yes, he is dead; how will you manage without a father?
Nay, how will you do for a husband?
Well, how will you manage without a husband?
Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Well, I can buy myself twenty at any market.
Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again.
Then you’ll buy them to sell again.
Thou speak’st with all thy wit: and yet, i’ faith, With wit enough for thee.
You’re talking with all your cleverness, and yet, honestly, You’re clever enough for yourself.
Was my father a traitor, mother?
Was my father a traitor, mom?
Ay, that he was.
Yes, he was.
What is a traitor?
What’s a traitor?
Why, one that swears and lies.
Well, someone who lies and makes false promises.
And be all traitors that do so?
So are all liars and swearers traitors?
Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.
Everyone who does that is a traitor and should be hanged.
And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
So should all liars and swearers be hanged?
Every one.
Yes, every one of them.
Who must hang them?
Who should hang them?
Why, the honest men.
Well, the honest men.
Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.
Then the liars and swearers are fools, because there are so many liars and swearers they could beat the honest men and hang them instead.
Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?
God help you, poor child! But how will you manage without a father?
If he were dead, you’ld weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
If he were dead, you’d cry for him. If you didn’t, it would be a good sign that I’d soon get a new father.
Poor prattler, how thou talk’st!
Poor little chatterbox, how you talk!
Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: If you will take a homely man’s advice, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer.
Bless you, good lady! I don’t know you, But I’m sure you’re of high status. I think some danger is very close to you: If you’ll listen to a simple man’s advice, Don’t stay here; leave, take your children with you. I’m probably being too harsh, warning you like this; To do worse to you would be cruel, Which is too close to you. May God protect you! I can’t stay any longer.
Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defence, To say I have done no harm?
Where should I go? I haven’t done anything wrong. But now I remember I live in this world, where doing harm Is often seen as good, while doing good can be Seen as foolish and dangerous: so then, oh no, Why do I keep defending myself, Saying I haven’t done anything wrong?
What are these faces?
What are these people?
Where is your husband?
Where’s your husband?
I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him.
I hope he’s not in any place so unholy Where someone like you could find him.
He’s a traitor.
He’s a traitor.
Thou liest, thou shag-hair’d villain!
You’re lying, you shaggy-haired villain!
What, you egg!
What, you little brat!
Young fry of treachery!
You young traitor!
He has kill’d me, mother: Run away, I pray you!
He’s killed me, mother: Please run away!