W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 2.
When forty winters shall besiege thybrow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now, Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held. Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thylusty days To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use, If thoucouldst answer 'This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,' Proving his beauty by succession thine!
Thy – your
Brow – forehead, expression (EME, poetic)
Livery - gown; dress; costume; finery (EME, poetic)
So gaz'd on now - here – that I see on you now
Tatter'd – tattered
Of small worth held - of the worst type
Lusty - healthy , strong , vigorous
Thine – your
Thou – you
Couldst – could
When forty winters will besiege your face, and dig deep trenches in your beauty's field, your youth's proud gown, that I see on you now, will become a tattered weed, of the worst type. Then being asked where all your beauty lies, where all the treasure of your vigorous days to say, within your own deep-sunken eyes, were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise How much more praise deserved your beauty's use, If you could answer 'This fair child of mine will sum my count, and make my old excuse,' Proving his beauty by your succession!
An unaware person is unlikely to understand some words in this sonnet. May be someone will assume that this sonnet has an awkward conglomeration of archaic forms. But taking into consideration that it is written by Shakespeare, all the doubts concerning its readability and perceptibility are gone. Here we can easily trace an existence of archaic forms of personal pronouns. The verb form couldst, faintly reminding German word because of its ending –st, attracts reader’s attention as well. We can also see words that changed their meanings nowadays. E. g. the word brow means a part of the face – arched line of hair above one’s eye, but not the whole face. Word order also differs from Modern English rules of subject-predicative system.
Love and duty reconcil’d by W. Congreve (late 17th c).
Being come to the House, they carried him to his Bed, and having sent for Surgeons Aurelian rewarded and dismissed the Guard. He stay'd the dressing of Claudio's Wounds, which were many, though they hop'd none Mortal: and leaving him to his Rest, went to give Hippolito an Account of what had happened, whom he found with a Table before him, leaning upon both his Elbows, his Face covered with his Hands, and so motionless, that Aurelian concluded he was asleep; seeing several Papers lie before him, half written and blotted out again, he thought to steal softly to the Table, and discover whathe had been employed about. Just as he reach'd forth his Hand to take up one of the Papers, Hippolito started up so on the suddain, as surpriz'd Aurelian and made him leap back; Hippolito, on the other hand, not supposing that any Body had been near him, was so disordered with the Appearance of a Man at his Elbow, (whom his Amazement did not permit him to distinguish) that he leap'd hastily to his Sword, and in turning him about, overthrew the Stand and Candles.
Here in this text we still observe the considerable remnants of German language influence – all the nouns are written with a capital latter. Verbal forms diverge from Modern English norms - being come instead of having come, clipping of the letter ‘e’ in the past form of regular verbs by means of apostrophizing etc. Comparing two texts, one – written approximately in 16th century and another – in late 17th, I’ve made out that English has considerably changed during such a short period of time. It made a long way to its today’s analytical system.
3 Archaisms in literature and mass media
Deliberate usage of archaisms
Occasional archaism is always a fault, conscious or unconscious. There are, indeed, a few writers—Lamb is one of them—whose uncompromising terms, 'Love me, love my archaisms', are generally accepted; but they are taking risks that a novice will do well not to take. As to unconscious archaism, it might be thought that such a thing could scarcely exist: to employ unconsciously a word that has been familiar, and is so no longer, can happen to few. Yet charitable readers will believe that in the following sentence demiss has slipped unconsciously from a learned pen:
He perceived that the Liberal ministry had offended certain influential sections by appearing too demiss or too unenterprising in foreign affairs.—Bryce.
The guilt of such peccadilloes as this may be said to vary inversely as the writer's erudition; for in this matter the learned may plead ignorance, where the novice knows too well what he is doing. It is conscious archaism that offends, above all the conscious archaisms of the illiterate: the historian's It should seem, even the essayist's You shall find, is less odious, though not less deliberate, than the ere, oft, aught, thereanent, I wot, I trow, and similar ornaments, with which amateurs are fond of tricking out their sentences. This is only natural. An educated writer's choice falls upon archaisms less hackneyed than the amateur's; he uses them, too, with more discretion, limiting his favourites to a strict allowance, say, of once in three essays. The amateur indulges us with his whole repertoire in a single newspaper letter of twenty or thirty lines, and—what is worse—cannot live up to the splendours of which he is so lavish: charmed with the discovery of some antique order of words, he selects a modern slang phrase to operate upon; he begins a sentence with ofttimes, and ends it with a grammatical blunder; aspires to albeit, and achieves howbeit. This list begins with the educated specimens, but lower down the reader will find several instances of this fatal incongruity of style; fatal, because the culprit proves himself unworthy of what is worthless. For the vilest of trite archaisms has this latent virtue, that it might be worse; to use it, and by using it to make it worse, is to court derision.
A coiner or a smuggler shall get off tolerably well.—Lamb.