Henry VIII: Act 1, Scene 3 Translation

Enter Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.

CHAMBERLAIN
Is ’t possible the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?

SANDS New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous—
Nay, let ’em be unmanly—yet are followed. 5

CHAMBERLAIN
As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones,
For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly
Their very noses had been counselors 10
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

SANDS
They have all new legs and lame ones; one would
take it,
That never see ’em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reigned among ’em. 15

CHAMBERLAIN Death! My lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to ’t,
That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.

How now?
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? 20

LOVELL Faith, my lord,
I hear of none but the new proclamation
That’s clapped upon the court gate.

CHAMBERLAIN What is ’t for?

LOVELL
The reformation of our traveled gallants 25
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

CHAMBERLAIN
I’m glad ’tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise
And never see the Louvre.

LOVELL They must either— 30
For so run the conditions—leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honorable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,
Abusing better men than they can be 35
Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,
Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men,
Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it, 40
They may cum privilegio “oui” away
The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.

SANDS
’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

CHAMBERLAIN What a loss our ladies 45
Will have of these trim vanities!

LOVELL Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. 50

SANDS
The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,
For sure there’s no converting of ’em. Now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong,
And have an hour of hearing, and, by ’r Lady, 55
Held current music too.

CHAMBERLAIN Well said, Lord Sands.
Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet?

SANDS No, my lord,
Nor shall not while I have a stump. 60

CHAMBERLAIN Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going?

LOVELL To the Cardinal’s.
Your Lordship is a guest too.

CHAMBERLAIN O, ’tis true. 65
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies. There will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.

LOVELL
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us. 70
His dews fall everywhere.

CHAMBERLAIN No doubt he’s noble;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.

SANDS
He may, my lord. ’Has wherewithal. In him,
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine. 75
Men of his way should be most liberal;
They are set here for examples.

CHAMBERLAIN True, they are so,
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays.
Your Lordship shall along.—Come, good Sir Thomas, 80
We shall be late else, which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford
This night to be comptrollers.

SANDS I am your Lordship’s.

They exit.