The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 34
He won't be one of them;
we'll keep him here. Then what does it matter?
YORK.
Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son
I would appeach him.
Get off, foolish woman! If he were my son twenty times over
I would still inform on him.
DUCHESS.
Hadst thou groan'd for him
As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect
That I have been disloyal to thy bed
And that he is a bastard, not thy son.
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind.
He is as like thee as a man may be
Not like to me, or any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
If you had had the pain of his labour
as I have, you would show more pity.
But now I know what you think: you suspect
that I have been adulterous
and now he is a bastard, not your son.
Sweet York, sweet husband, don't think that.
He's like you as any man could be,
he doesn't resemble me, or any of my family,
and yet I love him.
YORK.
Make way, unruly woman!
Out of the way, rebellious woman!
Exit
DUCHESS.
After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse;
Spur post, and get before him to the King,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York;
And never will I rise up from the ground
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone.
Follow him, Aumerle! Take his horse;
ride as fast as you can and get to the King before him,
and ask for his pardon before you are accused.
I won't be far behind; although I am old,
I back myself to ride as fast as York;
and I will never get off my knees
until Bolingbroke has pardoned you. Go, go.
Exeunt
Windsor Castle
Enter BOLINGBROKE as King, PERCY, and other LORDS
BOLINGBROKE.
Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?
'Tis full three months since I did see him last.
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found.
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent
With unrestrained loose companions,
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes
And beat our watch and rob our passengers,
Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour to support
So dissolute a crew.
Can't anyone tell me about my profligate son?
It's fully three moths since I last saw him.
If there's any curse hanging over me it's him.
I wish to God, my lords, that he could be found.
Ask in London, in the taverns there,
for they say he goes to them daily
with lawless vulgar companions,
the type, they say, who stand in alleyways
and beat the watchmen and rob travellers,
and he, lusty and unmanly youth,
thinks it is a point of honour to support
such a dissipated crew.
PERCY.
My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince,
And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford.
My Lord, I saw the Prince some two days ago,
and told him of the triumphs to be held at Oxford.
BOLINGBROKE.
And what said the gallant?
And what did the brave lad say?
PERCY.
His answer was, he would unto the stews,
And from the common'st creature pluck a glove
And wear it as a favour; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
He said that he would go into the slums,
and take a glove from the lowest creature there
and wear it as a favour; and in that way
he would unseat the strongest challenger.
BOLINGBROKE.
As dissolute as desperate; yet through both
I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years
May happily bring forth. But who comes here?
As dissipated as he is desperate; but I can see
through those qualities to see a better hope, which age
may happily bring to fruition. But who is this?
Enter AUMERLE amazed
AUMERLE.
Where is the King?
Where is the King?
BOLINGBROKE.
What means our cousin that he stares and looks
So wildly?
Why is our cousin staring and looking
so wild?
AUMERLE.
God save your Grace! I do beseech your Majesty,
To have some conference with your Grace alone.
God save your Grace! I beg your Majesty
to let me speak with you in private.
BOLINGBROKE.
Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.
Exeunt PERCY and LORDS
What is the matter with our cousin now?
Withdraw, and leave us alone.
What is the problem with you, cousin?
AUMERLE.
For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
[Kneels]
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.
May my knees never leave the earth,
may my tongue become stuck to the roof of my mouth,
unless I'm given a pardon before I get up or speak.
BOLINGBROKE.
Intended or committed was this fault?
If on the first, how heinous e'er it be,
To win thy after-love I pardon thee.
Is your fault something you have planned or something you've done?
If it's the first, however awful it is,
to win your love hereafter I pardon you.
AUMERLE.
Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.
Then give me permission to lock the door,
so that no man can come in until I have told my story.
BOLINGBROKE.
Have thy desire.
Do as you wish.
[The DUKE OF YORK knocks at the door and crieth]
YORK.
[Within] My liege, beware; look to thyself;
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Look out, my lord; guard yourself;
you have a traitor in there with you.
BOLINGBROKE.
[Drawing] Villain, I'll make thee safe.
Villain, I'll finish you.
AUMERLE.
Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear.
Stop your revenging hand; you have no reason to fear.
YORK.
[Within] Open the door, secure, foolhardy King.
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
Open the door, overconfident, foolhardy king.
Shall I, out of love, speak treason to your face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
Enter YORK
BOLINGBROKE.
What is the matter, uncle? Speak;
Recover breath; tell us how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.
What is the matter, uncle? Speak;
get your breath back; tell us how close the danger is,
so tha
t we can arm ourselves in preparation.
YORK.
Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
The treason that my haste forbids me show.
Read this writing here, and you will know
of the treason I cannot show in my hurry.
AUMERLE.
Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd.
I do repent me; read not my name there;
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
Remember, as you read, the promise you have given.
I have repented; don't read my name there;
my heart is no longer in league with my hand.
YORK.
It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, King;
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
It was, villain, when your hand wrote it down.
I ripped it from the traitor's heart, King;
it's fear, not love, which makes him regretful.
Do not pity him, in case your pity becomes
a serpent that will sting you to your heart.
BOLINGBROKE.
O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!
O loyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages
Hath held his current and defil'd himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
Oh terrible, strong and bold conspiracy!
Oh loyal father of a treacherous son!
You high, perfect, silver fountain,
from which this stream has run
through muddy passages and polluted itself!
Your excessive good has converted itself to evil;
and your great goodness will excuse
this terrible stain in your wayward son.
YORK.
So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd;
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies.
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
So my virtue becomes the pimp for his vice,
and he diminishes my honour with his shame,
like profligate sons spending their hard-working fathers' gold.
My honour will live on when his dishonour is dead,
or in his dishonour my life is shamed;
you're killing me with his life–letting him breathe,
the traitor lives, the true man is put to death.
DUCHESS.
[Within]What ho, my liege, for God's sake, let me
in.
Hello, my lord, for God's sake, let me in!
BOLINGBROKE.
What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry?
What shrill voiced petitioner is making this great racket?
DUCHESS.
[Within] A woman, and thine aunt, great King; 'tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door.
A beggar begs that never begg'd before.
A woman, and your aunt, great king–it's me.
speak with me, pity me, open the door,
someone is begging who has never begged before.
BOLINGBROKE.
Our scene is alt'red from a serious thing,
And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King.'
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in.
I know she is come to pray for your foul sin.
The scene has changed from a serious matter,
and has become “TheBeggar and the King".
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in;
I know she's come to intercede about your foul sin.
YORK.
If thou do pardon whosoever pray,
More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.
This fest'red joint cut off, the rest rest sound;
This let alone will all the rest confound.
If you pardon anyone who begs you,
this forgiveness may engender more sins.
If you cut off this infected limb, the rest will remain sound;
if you leave it alone it will infect all the rest.
Enter DUCHESS
DUCHESS.
O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
Love loving not itself, none other can.
King, don't believe this hardhearted man!
if you don't love your own offspring you can't love anyone.
YORK.
Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
You insane woman, what are you doing here?
Do you want to nourish yet another traitor?
DUCHESS.
Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.
Sweet York, be calm. Listen to me, gentle lord.
[Kneels]
BOLINGBROKE.
Rise up, good aunt.
Get up, good aunt.
DUCHESS.
Not yet, I thee beseech.
For ever will I walk upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy sees
Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Not yet, I beg you.
I will always walk on my knees;
and never know happiness again
until you give it to me; until you give me happiness
by pardoning Rutland, my wayward boy.
AUMERLE.
Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.
I second my mother's prayers by kneeling.
[Kneels]
YORK.
Against them both, my true joints bended be.
[Kneels]
Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!
And I kneel in opposition to them both.
May things go badly for you, if you show any forgiveness!
DUCHESS.
Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face;
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.
He prays but faintly and would be denied;
We pray with heart and soul, and all beside.
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow.
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
That mercy which true prayer ought to have.
Is he serious? Look at his face;
there are no tears in his eyes, his please are a joke;
his words come from his mouth, ours from our hearts.
He's only praying weakly and wants to be rejected;
we are praying with heart and soul and everything else.
I know he would gladly get off his knees;
ours shall stay kneeling until they grow into the ground.
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
ours have true passion and deep integrity.
Our prayers are out praying his; so grant them
the mercy which true prayer ought to gain.
BOLINGBROKE.
Good aunt, stand up.
Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS.
Do not say 'stand up';
Say 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.'
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech.
&
nbsp; I never long'd to hear a word till now;
Say 'pardon,' King; let pity teach thee how.
The word is short, but not so short as sweet;
No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet.
Do not say ‘stand up’;
First say you have pardoned him, then tell me to stand up.
If I were your nurse, teaching you to speak,
‘pardon’ would be the first word you learned.
I never longed to hear a word until now;
say ‘pardon,’ King; let pity teach you how.
The word is short, but not as short as it is sweet;
‘pardon' is the most fitting word for the mouth of a king.
YORK.
Speak it in French, King, say 'pardonne moy.'
Says in French, King, say ' pardonne moy.'
DUCHESS.
Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sets the word itself against the word!
Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there;
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,
That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse.
Are you trying to teach forgiveness to destroy forgiveness?
Ah, my sour husband, my hardhearted Lord,
who puts one word against another!
Say ‘pardon’ the way we say it in our country;