The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)

by William Shakespeare

  My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?

  AUMERLE.

  Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.

  Yes, fully; he's eager to get started.

  MARSHAL.

  The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,

  Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet.

  The Duke of Norfolk, lively and brave,

  is just waiting for the summons of the trumpet.

  AUMERLE.

  Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay

  For nothing but his Majesty's approach.

  Well then, the fighters are ready, we just need

  to wait for the arrival of his Majesty.

  The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles,

  GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others. When they are set,

  enter MOWBRAY, Duke of Nor folk, in arms, defendant, and

  a HERALD

  KING RICHARD.

  Marshal, demand of yonder champion

  The cause of his arrival here in arms;

  Ask him his name; and orderly proceed

  To swear him in the justice of his cause.

  Marshal, ask that knight over there

  why he has come here armoured;

  ask him his name; and according to the rules

  ask him to swear that his cause is just.

  MARSHAL.

  In God's name and the King's, say who thou art,

  And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms;

  Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel.

  Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath;

  As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!

  In the name of God and the King, say who you are,

  and why you have come here armoured as a knight;

  say who you have come to fight, and what your quarrel is with him.

  Speak truthfully for your knighthood and your oath;

  and so may heaven and your bravery defend you!

  MOWBRAY.

  My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;

  Who hither come engaged by my oath-

  Which God defend a knight should violate!-

  Both to defend my loyalty and truth

  To God, my King, and my succeeding issue,

  Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me;

  And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,

  To prove him, in defending of myself,

  A traitor to my God, my King, and me.

  And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

  My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;

  I have come here to fulfil the oath I swore–

  May God never let a knight break his oath!–

  To show both my loyalty and my honesty

  to God, my King, and my descendants,

  against the Duke of Hereford who accuses me;

  and, by the grace of God and with the help of my strength,

  to show him, in defending myself,

  to be a traitor to my God, my king, and to me.

  And as I am fighting for truth, may heaven defend me!

  The trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford,

  appellant, in armour, and a HERALD

  KING RICHARD.

  Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,

  Both who he is and why he cometh hither

  Thus plated in habiliments of war;

  And formally, according to our law,

  Depose him in the justice of his cause.

  Marshal, asked that armoured knight

  who he is and why he has come here

  dressed ready for war;

  and, according to the law,

  make him swear to the justice of his cause.

  MARSHAL.

  What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither

  Before King Richard in his royal lists?

  Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?

  Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!

  What is your name? And why have you come here

  before King Richard in his royal jousting field?

  Who have you come to fight? What's your quarrel?

  Speak like a true knight, and may heaven help you!

  BOLINGBROKE.

  Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  Am I; who ready here do stand in arms

  To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,

  In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

  That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,

  To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me.

  And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

  I am Harry of Hereford, Lancaster,

  and Derby; I have come here with my armour

  to prove, by the grace of God and my own bravery,

  by fighting Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

  that he is a traitor, foul and dangerous

  to the God of heaven, King Richard, and to me.

  And as I am fighting for truth, may heaven defend me!

  MARSHAL.

  On pain of death, no person be so bold

  Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,

  Except the Marshal and such officers

  Appointed to direct these fair designs.

  Let no person, on pain of death, be so bold

  or foolhardy as to interfere with the proceedings,

  except for the Marshal and the officers

  appointed to run this affair.

  BOLINGBROKE.

  Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,

  And bow my knee before his Majesty;

  For Mowbray and myself are like two men

  That vow a long and weary pilgrimage.

  Then let us take a ceremonious leave

  And loving farewell of our several friends.

  Lord Marshal, let me kiss the hand of my king,

  and kneel before his Majesty;

  Mowbray and myself are like two men

  who have sworn to go on a long and tiring pilgrimage.

  So let us have a formal leavetaking

  and bid a loving farewell to all our friends.

  MARSHAL.

  The appellant in all duty greets your Highness,

  And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.

  The plaintiff pays his respects to your Highness,

  and asks if he can kiss your hand and bid you farewell.

  KING RICHARD.

  We will descend and fold him in our arms.

  Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,

  So be thy fortune in this royal fight!

  Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed,

  Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

  I shall come down and embrace him.

  My cousin Hereford, may you have whatever fortune

  your cause deserves in this royal fight!

  Farewell, relative; if you spill your blood today,

  we may grieve for it, but we cannot take revenge.

  BOLINGBROKE.

  O, let no noble eye profane a tear

  For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear.

  As confident as is the falcon's flight

  Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.

  My loving lord, I take my leave of you;

  Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;

  Not sick, although I have to do with death,

  But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.

  Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet

  The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.

  O thou, the earthly author of my blood,

  Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,

  Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up

  To reach at victory above my head,

  Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers,

  And with thy blessings steel my lance's point,

  That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat

  And furbish new the
name of John o' Gaunt,

  Even in the lusty haviour of his son.

  Oh, let no noble eye shed any tears

  for me, if I am wounded by Mowbray's spear!

  In this fight against Mowbray I am as confident as a falcon

  when it attacks a bird.

  My loving lord, I bid you farewell;

  the same to you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;

  I am not sick, although I am facing death,

  I am lusty, young, and happy.

  Now, as in English banquets, I shall take

  the sweetest thing last, to make the end sweetest.

  Oh you, the procreator of my blood,

  whose youthful spirits reborn in me

  lift me up with a double strength

  to reach for a victory that would otherwise be unattainable,

  strengthen my armour with your prayers,

  and reinforce the point of my lance with your blessings,

  so it can go through Mowbray's armour as if it were wax,

  and let the brave achievements of his son

  give new honour to the name of John of Gaunt.

  GAUNT.

  God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!

  Be swift like lightning in the execution,

  And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,

  Fall like amazing thunder on the casque

  Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.

  Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.

  May God give you success in your noble cause!

  May your efforts be as swift as lightning,

  and let your blows, raining down,

  fall like stunning thunder on the helmet

  of your malign opposed enemy.

  Summon up your young courage, be brave, and live.

  BOLINGBROKE.

  Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!

  My innocence and St George will let me live!

  MOWBRAY.

  However God or fortune cast my lot,

  There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,

  A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.

  Never did captive with a freer heart

  Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace

  His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,

  More than my dancing soul doth celebrate

  This feast of battle with mine adversary.

  Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,

  Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.

  As gentle and as jocund as to jest

  Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.

  Whatever God or fortune give to me,

  living or dying I am true to King Richard,

  a loyal, just and upright gentleman.

  No slave was ever happier

  to throw off the chains of slavery, and embrace

  his golden freedom,

  than my dancing soul is happy

  to begin this combat with my enemy.

  You great King, and my fellow peers,

  accept my wishes for a long and happy life.

  I'm going into battle as peacefully and happy

  as if to a dance: truth gives me a quiet mind.

  KING RICHARD.

  Farewell, my lord, securely I espy

  Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.

  Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.

  Farewell, my lord, I can see bravery

  and virtue firmly fixed in your looks.

  Order the combat to begin, Marshal.

  MARSHAL.

  Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!

  Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  take your lance; and may God defend the just!

  BOLINGBROKE.

  Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.

  My faith that this will happen is strong as a castle, I second you.

  MARSHAL.

  [To an officer] Go bear this lance to Thomas,

  Duke of Norfolk.

  Go and take this lance to Thomas,

  Duke of Norfolk.

  FIRST HERALD.

  Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself,

  On pain to be found false and recreant,

  To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,

  A traitor to his God, his King, and him;

  And dares him to set forward to the fight.

  Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  stands here representing his God, his king, and himself,

  on penalty of being shown to be false and blasphemous,

  to prove that the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,

  is a traitor to his God, his king, and him;

  and he challenges him to step up for the fight.

  SECOND HERALD.

  Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

  On pain to be found false and recreant,

  Both to defend himself, and to approve

  Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal,

  Courageously and with a free desire

  Attending but the signal to begin.

  Here stands Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

  on penalty of being shown to be blasphemous and false,

  both to defend himself, and to prove

  that Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

  is disloyal to God, his king, and to himself,

  he is waiting courageously and with free will

  for the signal for the combat to begin.

  MARSHAL.

  Sound trumpets; and set forward, combatants.

  [A charge sounded]

  Stay, the King hath thrown his warder down.

  Sound the trumpets; advance, combatants.

  [A charge is sounded]

  Wait, the King has thrown down his baton.

  KING RICHARD.

  Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,

  And both return back to their chairs again.

  Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound

  While we return these dukes what we decree.

  A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council

  Draw near,

  And list what with our council we have done.

  For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd

  With that dear blood which it hath fostered;

  And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

  Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword;

  And for we think the eagle-winged pride

  Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,

  With rival-hating envy, set on you

  To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle

  Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;

  Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums,

  With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,

  And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,

  Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace

  And make us wade even in our kindred's blood-

  Therefore we banish you our territories.

  You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,

  Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields

  Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

  But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

  Let them both put aside their helmets and their spears,

  and come back to their chairs.

  Gather round me, and let the trumpets sound,

  while I inform these dukes what I have decided.

  Come close,

  and listen to my decision.

  Because the earth of our kingdom should not be stained

  with the sweet blood of those who grew from it;

  and because my eyes hate the horrible sight

  of wounds cut with a neighbour's sword,

  and because we
believe that it was pride,

  ambitious thoughts reaching up to the sky,

  causing envy of your rivals, which started you

  disturbing the peace, which in this sweet country

  is like the breath of a sleeping baby;

  this is what got the war drums beating,

  which started the horrible discordant wail of the trumpets,

  and the clashing racket of iron weapons wielded in anger,

  which could drive beautiful peace away from our kingdom

  and make us have to wade through the blood of our kindred–

  so we exile you from our lands.

  You, cousin Hereford, on pain of death,

  will not come back into our fair lands

  until ten years have passed,

  you must live abroad as an exile.

  BOLINGBROKE.

  Your will be done. Limit must my comfort be-

  That sun that warms you here shall shine on me,

  And those his golden beams to you here lent

  Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

  Your will be done. I must take comfort from the fact

  that the sun that warms you here will shine on me,

  and the golden beams that are lent to you here

  will also fall on me and sweeten my exile.

  KING RICHARD.

  Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,

  Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:

  The sly slow hours shall not determinate

  The dateless limit of thy dear exile;

  The hopeless word of 'never to return'

  Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

  Norfolk, you get a heavier sentence,

  which I pass with some regret:

  time will not measure

  the limitless period of your exile;

  I give you the hopeless sentence of

  being permanently exiled, on pain of death.

  MOWBRAY.

  A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,

  And all unlook'd for from your Highness' mouth.

  A dearer merit, not so deep a maim