O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of
Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de
The Princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith, Kate, my
wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst
speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst
find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my
farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
directly to say, "I love you"; then if you urge me farther than
to say, "Do you in faith?" I wear out my suit. Give me your
answer; i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say
Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your
sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one, I have neither
words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in
measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I
should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my
love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God,
Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I
have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I
never use till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst
love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth
sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything
he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain
soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say
to thee that I shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the Lord,
no; yet I love thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a
fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do
thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places;
for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves
into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again.
What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good
leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn
white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a
full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and
the moon; or rather the sun and not the moon; for it shines bright
and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have
such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier,
take a king. And what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair,
and fairly, I pray thee.
Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France?
No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate;
but, in loving me, you should love the friend of France; for I
love France so well that I will not part with a village of it, I
will have it all mine; and, Kate, when France is mine and I am
yours, then yours is France and you are mine.
I cannot tell wat is dat.
No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which I am sure will hang
upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's
neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le possession de
France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi, — let me see,
what then? Saint Denis be my speed! — donc votre est France
et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the
kingdom as to speak so much more French. I shall never move
thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.
Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est meilleur
que l'Anglois lequel je parle.
No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking of my tongue, and I
thine, most truly-falsely, must needs be granted to be much at
one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English: canst
thou love me?
I cannot tell.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I
know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your
closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know,
Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love
with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the
rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever
thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells
me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore
needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between
Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half
English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the
beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
I do not know dat.
No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise. Do but now
promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of
such a boy; and for my English moiety, take the word of a king
and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde,
mon tres cher et divin deesse?
Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de most
sage damoiselle dat is en France.