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There is no answer made. Well then, the peace. Pleaseth your grace. She hath good leave. Fair Catherine, and most fair,. Your majesty shall mock at me. I cannot speak your England. Oh, fair Catherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue.
Do you like me, Kate? Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell wat is "like me. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel. I said so, dear Catherine, and I must not blush to affirm it. O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies!
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That the tongues of men are full of deceits? Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits. Dat is de princess. The princess is the better Englishwoman. 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.
Give me your answer, i'faith do, and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady? 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 leapfrog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armor 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 favors, I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jackanapes, 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 urged, nor never break for urging.
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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' favors, they do always reason themselves out again.
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 curled 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.
a linguistic investigation into ‘trumpery’
If thou would have such a one, take me. Take a soldier, take a king. Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. Is it possible dat I sould 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. 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. Saint Denis be my speed!
I shall never move thee in French unless it be to laugh at me. 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? Can any of your neighbors 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 we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
Related Tromperie (Folio) (French Edition)
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