The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 44
and yours with anything but loyal love, may God punish me
by making those who love me most hate me!
When I am in most need of a friend,
and certain that he is a friend, may he be
cunning, deceptive, treacherous and sly
to me! I beg that God will do this
if I am cold in my love for you and yours.
[They embrace]
KING EDWARD.
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here
To make the blessed period of this peace.
This promise is good medicine, princely Buckingham,
for my sickly heart.
All we need now is my brother Gloucester to be here
to conclude this blessed peace.
BUCKINGHAM.
And, in good time,
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliff and the Duke.
And, right on time,
here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the Duke.
Enter RICHARD, and RATCLIFF
RICHARD.
Good morrow to my sovereign king and
Queen;
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
Good day to my sovereign king and Queen;
and, princely peers, good day to you!
KING EDWARD.
Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity,
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
It has indeed been a happy day.
Gloucester, we have done kind deeds,
made peace out of conflict, love from hate,
between these haughty wrongly angry peers.
RICHARD.
A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord.
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe-
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
To any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us;
Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me;
Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you;
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen-indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born to-night.
I thank my God for my humility.
Very blessed work, my sovereign lord.
Amongst this company of Princes–if any here
through wrong information or misapprehension
think of me as an enemy–
if I have done anything unwittingly, or in anger,
that anyone here objects to, I would like
to make my peace with him:
I would rather die than be enemies;
I hate it, and would like all good men to love me.
First, madam, I beg that you and I may have true peace,
which I will gain through my devoted service;
and with you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
if there was ever any grudge between us;
and with you, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, with you,
who have all taken a dislike to me without reason:
dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen: indeed with all of you.
I do not know any Englishman alive
with whom I have any quarrel
greater than I have with a newborn infant–
I thank God for my humility.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter.
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
From now on this day shall be celebrated as a holiday.
I wish to God all arguments could be solved like this.
My sovereign lord, I beg your Highness
to accept our brother Clarence into your grace.
RICHARD.
Why, madam, have I off'red love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead?
[They all start]
You do him injury to scorn his corse.
Why, madam, have I offered my love for this,
to be mocked in the presence of the King?
Doesn't everybody know that the sweet Duke is dead?
[They all start]
It is not right to mock his corpse.
KING EDWARD.
Who knows not he is dead! Who knows
he is?
Doesn't everybody know he's dead! Who knows he is?
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!
Mighty heaven, what a world this is!
BUCKINGHAM.
Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
Lord Dorset, do I look as pale as the rest of them?
DORSET.
Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
Yes, my good lord; and there is no man here
whose colour has not drained from his cheeks.
KING EDWARD.
Is Clarence dead? The order was revers'd.
Is Clarence dead? I revoked the order.
RICHARD.
But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a winged Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand
That came too lag to see him buried.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!
But he, poor man, died as a result of your first order,
which was carried there by a swift messenger;
some lazy cripple carried the counter order
that came too late to save him.
God knows that some, less noble and less loyal,
who have worse thoughts and worse blood,
deserved to get the treatment poor Clarence got,
and yet they are thought of as genuine!
Enter DERBY
DERBY.
A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!
Grant me a favour, your Majesty, for the service I have done!
KING EDWARD.
I prithee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow.
Please, be quiet; my soul is full of sorrow.
DERBY.
I will not rise unless your Highness hear me.
I will not rise until your Highness listens to me.
KING EDWARD.
Then say at once what is it thou requests.
Then say quickly what you want.
DERBY.
The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
The power, Majesty, over my servant's life;
today he killed a rowdy gentleman
who was recently a servant to the Duke of Norfolk.
KING EDWARD.
Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother killed no man-his fault was thought,
; And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me
And said 'Dear Brother, live, and be a king'?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much race to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.[DERBY rises]
But for my brother not a man would speak;
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once beg for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this!
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Ah, poor Clarence!
Can my tongue sentence my brother to death,
and be used to pardon a slave?
My brother killed no one: his only fault was his thoughts,
and yet his punishment was a bitter death.
Who pleaded to me for him? Who, when I was angry,
kneeled at my feet and told me to think carefully?
Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?
Who reminded me that the poor soul abandoned
the mighty Warwick, and fought for me?
Who reminded me that on the battlefield at Tewkesbury,
when Oxford stood over me, that he rescued me
and said, ‘Dear brother, live and be a king’?
Who reminded me that when we both lay in the battlefield
almost frozen to death, that he wrapped me
in his own clothes, and abandoned himself,
thin and naked, to the numbing cold of the night?
Brutal anger has sinfully torn all this
from my memory, and not one of you
was good enough to remind me of it.
But when your carters or your serving men
have committed a drunken murder, and insulted
the precious face of our dear Lord,
you are straight down on your knees begging for pardon,
and I, unjustly, must give it to you.
But not one man spoke out for my brother,
and I, ungraciously, did not speak to myself on his
behalf, poor soul. Even the greatest of you
were in his debt while he was alive,
yet not one of you troubled to beg for his life.
O God, I feel justice will fall
on me, and you, and our families for this.
Come on, Hastings, help me to my room.
Ah, poor Clarence!
Exeunt some with KING and QUEEN
RICHARD.
This is the fruits of rashness. Mark'd you not
How that the guilty kindred of the Queen
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
O, they did urge it still unto the King!
God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go
To comfort Edward with our company?
This is what happens when things are decided in a hurry. Did you notice
how the guilty relatives of the Queen
looked pale when they heard of Clarence's death?
It was them who encouraged the King to order it!
God will take revenge. Come, Lords, will you come
with me to comfort Edward?
BUCKINGHAM.
We wait upon your Grace.
We shall come with your Grace.
Exeunt
London. The palace
Enter the old DUCHESS OF YORK, with the SON and DAUGHTER of
CLARENCE
SON.
Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?
Good grandmother, tell us, is our father dead?
DUCHESS.
No, boy.
No, boy.
DAUGHTER.
Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,
And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'?
Then why are you always crying, and beating your chest,
and wailing, ‘Oh Clarence, my unhappy son!’?
SON.
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us orphans, wretches, castaways,
If that our noble father were alive?
Why do you look at us and shake your head,
calling us orphans, wretches, castaways,
if our noble father is alive?
DUCHESS.
My pretty cousins, you mistake me both;
I do lament the sickness of the King,
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.
My pretty cousins, you both misunderstand me;
I am lamenting the King's illness,
as I will hate to lose him, not your father's death;
it would be a waste of sorrow to mourn for someone who's already gone.
SON.
Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
The King mine uncle is to blame for it.
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
So you believe, grandmother, that he is dead.
My uncle the king is to blame for it.
God will take revenge; and I will beg
for him to do so in my prayers.
DAUGHTER.
And so will I.
And so will I.
DUCHESS.
Peace, children, peace! The King doth love you
well.
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.
Peace, children, peace! The King loves you very much.
You are ignorant of the ways of the world,
you cannot guess who caused your father's death.
SON.
Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me the King, provok'd to it by the Queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him.
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as a child.
Grandmother, we can; my good uncle Gloucester
told me that the King, egged on by the Queen,
invented charges to have him imprisoned.
And when my uncle told me about it, he wept,
and pitied me, and affectionately kissed my cheeks;
he said to regard him as my father, and
that he would love me as dearly as his own child.
DUCHESS.
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,
And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice!
He is my son; ay, and therein my shame;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
How terrible that deceit should assume such a gentle form,
and hide his deep sins behind a mask of virtue!
He is my son; that is shameful to me;
but he did not learn this deceit at my breast.
SON.
Think you
my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
Do you think my uncle was lying, grandmother?
DUCHESS.
Ay, boy.
Yes, boy.
SON.
I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?
I can't believe it. Listen! What's this noise?
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her
ears; RIVERS and DORSET after her
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and
weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul
And to myself become an enemy.
Ah, who can stop me wailing and weeping,
cursing my fortune, and torturing myself?
I'll ally myself with black despair and attack my soul,
becoming my own enemy.
DUCHESS.
What means this scene of rude impatience?
What is the meaning of this vulgar hysteria?
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
To make an act of tragic violence.
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.
Why grow the branches when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's,
Or like obedient subjects follow him
To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night.
I am marking an act of tragic violence.
Edward, my lord, your son, our King, is dead.
Why do the branches grow when the root is dead?
Why don't the leaves, lacking sap, die?
If you want to live, grieve; if you're going to die, do it quickly,
so that our swift winged souls may catch up with the King's,