Original
Modern English
’Tis one of the best discretions of a ’oman as ever I did look upon.
It’s one of the best decisions a woman has ever made, that I’ve ever seen.
And did he send you both these letters at an instant?
Did he send you both these letters at the same time?
Within a quarter of an hour.
In about fifteen minutes.
Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt; I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour stand In him that was of late an heretic, As firm as faith.
Excuse me, wife. From now on, do whatever you want; I’d sooner suspect the sun of being cold Than suspect you of being naughty: now your honor is In the one who was recently a heretic, As solid as faith.
’Tis well, ’tis well; no more: Be not as extreme in submission As in offence. But let our plot go forward: let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport, Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, Where we may take him and disgrace him for it.
That’s fine, that’s fine; no more: Don’t be as extreme in obeying As in being offended. But let’s move forward with our plan: let our wives Once again, to make fun of us, Arrange a meeting with this old fat man, Where we can catch him and disgrace him for it.
There is no better way than that they spoke of.
There’s no better way than what they suggested.
How? to send him word they’ll meet him in the park at midnight? Fie, fie! he’ll never come.
What? To tell him we’ll meet him in the park at midnight? Oh no, no! He’ll never show up.
You say he has been thrown in the rivers and has been grievously peaten as an old ’oman: methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no desires.
You say he’s been thrown into rivers and beaten up badly like an old woman: I think there should be enough fear in him that he won’t come; I think his body’s been punished, he’ll have no desire to show up.
So think I too.
I think so too.
Devise but how you’ll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither.
Just think of how you’ll deal with him when he comes, And let’s plan together to bring him here.
There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg’d horns; And there he blasts the tree and takes the cattle And makes milch-kine yield blood and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner: You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed eld Received and did deliver to our age This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.
There’s an old story that goes about Herne the Hunter, Once a keeper here in Windsor forest, Who walks around an oak all winter long, at midnight, With huge, ragged horns; And he curses the tree, steals the cattle, Makes cows give blood instead of milk, and shakes a chain In a really terrifying way: You’ve heard of this spirit, and you know That superstitious old people Believed and passed down this story of Herne the Hunter as the truth.
Why, yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Herne’s oak: But what of this?
Well, still, there are many who are afraid To walk by Herne’s oak in the dead of night: But what does this have to do with anything?
Marry, this is our device; That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us.
Well, here’s our plan; That Falstaff will meet us at that oak.
Well, let it not be doubted but he’ll come: And in this shape when you have brought him thither, What shall be done with him? what is your plot?
Well, let’s not doubt that he’ll show up: And when you bring him there in this disguise, What will we do with him? What’s the plan?
That likewise have we thought upon, and thus: Nan Page my daughter and my little son And three or four more of their growth we’ll dress Like urchins, ouphes and fairies, green and white, With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands: upon a sudden, As Falstaff, she and I, are newly met, Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once With some diffused song: upon their sight, We two in great amazedness will fly: Then let them all encircle him about And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight, And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, In their so sacred paths he dares to tread In shape profane.
We’ve thought about that too, and here’s what we’ll do: My daughter Nan Page and my little son, Along with three or four other kids about their age, we’ll dress As little goblins, elves, and fairies, in green and white, With little wax candles on their heads, And rattles in their hands: then, just as Falstaff, she and I, are meeting, Let them suddenly jump out of a pit and run at him, Singing some wild song: when he sees them, We two will be so startled that we’ll run away: Then let them surround him, And, like fairies, pinch the dirty old knight, And ask him why, in the middle of a fairy celebration, He dares to walk through their sacred paths In such a disrespectful form.
And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound And burn him with their tapers.
And until he tells the truth, Let the pretend fairies pinch him hard And burn him with their candles.
The truth being known, We’ll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor.
Once the truth comes out, We’ll all reveal ourselves, take away his horns, And mock him all the way back to Windsor.
The children must Be practised well to this, or they’ll ne’er do’t.
The kids must Practice this well, or they’ll never pull it off.
I will teach the children their behaviors; and I will be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the knight with my taber.
I’ll teach the kids how to behave; and I will act like a fool too, to annoy the knight with my drum.
That will be excellent. I’ll go and buy them vizards.
That will be great. I’ll go buy them masks.
My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, Finely attired in a robe of white.
My Nan will be the queen of all the fairies, Dressed up beautifully in a white robe.
That silk will I go buy.
I’ll go buy that silk.
And in that time Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away And marry her at Eton. Go send to Falstaff straight.
And during that time Master Slender will steal my Nan away And marry her at Eton. I’ll go send for Falstaff right away.
Nay I’ll to him again in name of Brook He’ll tell me all his purpose: sure, he’ll come.
No, I’ll go to him again as Brook He’ll tell me all his plans: he’ll definitely come.
Fear not you that. Go get us properties And tricking for our fairies.
Don’t worry about that. Go get us costumes And decorations for our fairies.
Let us about it: it is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries.
Let’s get to work: it’s going to be great fun and very clever tricks.
Go, Mistress Ford, Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind.
Go, Mistress Ford, Send word quickly to Sir John, to find out his intentions.
I’ll to the doctor: he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; And he my husband best of all affects. The doctor is well money’d, and his friends Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her.
I’ll go to the doctor: he has my full support, And no one but him, to marry Nan Page. Slender, though rich, is a fool; And my husband likes him the best. The doctor is wealthy, and his friends Are powerful at court: he, and only he, shall have her, Even if twenty thousand better men come to ask for her.