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

by William Shakespeare

Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;

  And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,

  And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;

  For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;

  And be not easily won to our requests.

  Play the maid's part: still answer nay, and take it.

  The mayor is right here.Pretend to be afraid;

  only listen to powerful entreaties;

  take a prayer book in your hand

  and stand between two churchmen, my good lord;

  I'll build a good fantasy on those foundations;

  don't be easily won over by our requests.

  Act like a woman: keep refusing, but take what is offered.

  RICHARD.

  I go; and if you plead as well for them

  As I can say nay to thee for myself,

  No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.

  I shall go; and if you speak for them

  as well as I can pretend to refuse,

  no doubt we shall get a good outcome.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Go, go, up to the leads; the Lord Mayor

  knocks.

  Go, go, up to the gallery; the Lord Mayor is knocking.

  Exit RICHARD

  Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and citizens

  Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here;

  I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.

  Enter CATESBY

  Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?

  Welcome, my lord. I'm kicking my heels here.

  I don't think the Duke wants to speak with you.

  Now, Catesby, what does your lord say to my request?

  CATESBY.

  He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord,

  To visit him to-morrow or next day.

  He is within, with two right reverend fathers,

  Divinely bent to meditation;

  And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd,

  To draw him from his holy exercise.

  He begs your Grace, my noble lord,

  to visit him tomorrow or the next day.

  He's inside, with two very holy priests,

  in divine meditation;

  he will not allow any earthly things

  to distract him from his devotions.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;

  Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,

  In deep designs, in matter of great moment,

  No less importing than our general good,

  Are come to have some conference with his Grace.

  Good Catesby, go back to the gracious Duke;

  tell him that myself, the Mayor and aldermen,

  have all come to speak to his Grace about

  weighty matters, extremely important things,

  which are most important for the general good.

  CATESBY.

  I'll signify so much unto him straight.

  I'll go and let himknow at once.

  Exit

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!

  He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,

  But on his knees at meditation;

  Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,

  But meditating with two deep divines;

  Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,

  But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.

  Happy were England would this virtuous prince

  Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof;

  But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it.

  Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not like Edward!

  He is not lying around on a lustful bed,

  but is on his knees praying;

  not playing with a pair of tarts,

  but praying with two holy men;

  not sleeping as his idle body gets fatter,

  but praying, to expand his holy soul.

  England would be very lucky if this good prince

  agreed to become its monarch;

  but I'm afraid I'm certain we won't persuade him.

  MAYOR.

  Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay!

  Well, heaven forbid that he should refuse us!

  BUCKINGHAM.

  I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again.

  Re-enter CATESBY

  Now, Catesby, what says his Grace?

  I'm afraid he will. Here comes Catesby again.

  Now, Catesby, what does his Grace say?

  CATESBY.

  My lord,

  He wonders to what end you have assembled

  Such troops of citizens to come to him.

  His Grace not being warn'd thereof before,

  He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.

  My Lord,

  he is asking why you have gathered

  such an army ofcitizens to come to him.

  As his Grace was not told they were coming,

  he is afraid, my lord, that you mean him harm.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Sorry I am my noble cousin should

  Suspect me that I mean no good to him.

  By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;

  And so once more return and tell his Grace.

  Exit CATESBY

  When holy and devout religious men

  Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,

  So sweet is zealous contemplation.

  I'm sorry my noble cousin can

  suspect me of intending to harm him.

  By heaven, we come to him out of perfect love;

  please go back and tell his Grace that.

  When holy and devout religious men

  are praying, it's very difficult to get them away,

  their holy meditations are so sweet.

  Enter RICHARD aloft, between two BISHOPS.

  CATESBY returns

  MAYOR.

  See where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen!

  Look where his Grace is standing between two clergymen!

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,

  To stay him from the fall of vanity;

  And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,

  True ornaments to know a holy man.

  Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,

  Lend favourable ear to our requests,

  And pardon us the interruption

  Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.

  Two good supports for a Christian prince,

  to stop him turning to sin;

  and, see, a prayer book in his hand,

  a true sign of a holy man.

  Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,

  look favourably on our requests,

  and excuse us for interrupting

  your devotions and your proper Christian passion.

  RICHARD.

  My lord, there needs no such apology:

  I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,

  Who, earnest in the service of my God,

  Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.

  But, leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?

  My lord, there is no need for an apology:

  I beg your Grace to pardon me,

  for, in my deep devotion to God,

  making my friends wait.

  But forget that, what can I do for your Grace?

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,

  And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

  Something that, I hope, will please God above,

  and all good men on this leaderless island.

  RICHARD.

  I do suspect I have done some offence

  That seems disgracious in the city's eye,

  And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

  I suspect I have done something wrong

  which seems displeasing to the city,

  and that you have c
ome to criticise my ignorance.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  You have, my lord. Would it might please

  your Grace,

  On our entreaties, to amend your fault!

  You have, my lord. We hope it will please your Grace,

  when we ask you, to make things right!

  RICHARD.

  Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

  Why else am I here in this Christian land?

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Know then, it is your fault that you resign

  The supreme seat, the throne majestical,

  The scept'red office of your ancestors,

  Your state of fortune and your due of birth,

  The lineal glory of your royal house,

  To the corruption of a blemish'd stock;

  Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,

  Which here we waken to our country's good,

  The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;

  Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,

  Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,

  And almost should'red in the swallowing gulf

  Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.

  Which to recure, we heartily solicit

  Your gracious self to take on you the charge

  And kingly government of this your land-

  Not as protector, steward, substitute,

  Or lowly factor for another's gain;

  But as successively, from blood to blood,

  Your right of birth, your empery, your own.

  For this, consorted with the citizens,

  Your very worshipful and loving friends,

  And by their vehement instigation,

  In this just cause come I to move your Grace.

  Know then that your fault is your rejection

  of the highest seat, the majestic throne,

  the ruling office of your ancestors,

  your lucky state, and your birthright,

  the ancestral glory of your royal house,

  to allow a perverted line to take it;

  while you indulge your mild unearthly thoughts–

  which we now arouse for the good of the country–

  the noble island is lacking her limbs;

  her face is scarred with shame,

  her royal stock has had low plants grafted to it,

  and she has almost been pushed into the consuming gulf

  of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion;

  to make things better, we earnestly ask

  your gracious self to assume the responsibility

  of governing this land of yours as a king,

  not as Protector, steward, substitute,

  or a low agent for someone else's profit,

  but as your birthright, your territory, your own,

  handed down through your bloodline.

  Along with these citizens–

  your very worshipful and loving friends,

  and at their strong insistence–

  I have come to persuade your Grace in this just cause.

  RICHARD.

  I cannot tell if to depart in silence

  Or bitterly to speak in your reproof

  Best fitteth my degree or your condition.

  If not to answer, you might haply think

  Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded

  To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,

  Which fondly you would here impose on me;

  If to reprove you for this suit of yours,

  So season'd with your faithful love to me,

  Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.

  Therefore-to speak, and to avoid the first,

  And then, in speaking, not to incur the last-

  Definitively thus I answer you:

  Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert

  Unmeritable shuns your high request.

  First, if all obstacles were cut away,

  And that my path were even to the crown,

  As the ripe revenue and due of birth,

  Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,

  So mighty and so many my defects,

  That I would rather hide me from my greatness-

  Being a bark to brook no mighty sea-

  Than in my greatness covet to be hid,

  And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.

  But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me-

  And much I need to help you, were there need.

  The royal tree hath left us royal fruit

  Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,

  Will well become the seat of majesty

  And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.

  On him I lay that you would lay on me-

  The right and fortune of his happy stars,

  Which God defend that I should wring from him.

  I can't decide if to leave in silence

  or to bitterly reprimand you

  would be most suited to my rank and your position.

  If I didn't answer you might think

  my ambition, by not replying, made me agree

  to assume the golden burden of kingship

  which you foolishly want to place on me;

  if I reprimanded you for your request,

  inspired as it is by your faithful love for me,

  then, on the other hand, I might be insulting my friends.

  So, I shall speak, and avoid the first accusation

  and by speaking I shall avoid the last,

  so I give you this definitive answer:

  I must thank you for your love, but my

  lack of merit rejects your great request.

  Firstly, if there were no obstacles

  to my taking the crown and I followed

  my birthright to my inheritance,

  my spirit is so poor,

  I have so many great defects,

  that I would rather reject my greatness–

  I am a ship not made for the great oceans–

  than cover my faults with greatness,

  hide them beneath my glory.

  But, thank God, you do not need me–

  and I can't help you if you did.

  The King has left descendants,

  who, as they ripen over time,

  will be well suited to the throne,

  and no doubt make us happy in their reign.

  I give to him what you want to give to me:

  his rightful inheritance,

  and God forfend that I should take it from him.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  My lord, this argues conscience in your

  Grace;

  But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,

  All circumstances well considered.

  You say that Edward is your brother's son.

  So say we too, but not by Edward's wife;

  For first was he contract to Lady Lucy-

  Your mother lives a witness to his vow-

  And afterward by substitute betroth'd

  To Bona, sister to the King of France.

  These both put off, a poor petitioner,

  A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,

  A beauty-waning and distressed widow,

  Even in the afternoon of her best days,

  Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,

  Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree

  To base declension and loath'd bigamy.

  By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

  This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince.

  More bitterly could I expostulate,

  Save that, for reverence to some alive,

  I give a sparing limit to my tongue.

  Then, good my lord, take to your royal self

  This proffer'd benefit of dignity;

  If not to bless us and the land withal,

  Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry

  From the corruption of abusing times

  Unto a lineal true-derived course.
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  My Lord, this shows good feeling in your Grace;

  but all things considered your objections

  are slight and trivial.

  You say that Edward is your brother's son:

  and we agree–but not the son of his wife.

  For he was first engaged to Lady Lucy

  (your mother is a living witness to his promise),

  and afterwards he was, through a stand-in, engaged

  to Bona, sister of the King of France.

  Avoiding both of these, a poor beggar,

  the mother of many sons, mad through care,

  a faded beauty, a distressed widow,

  with her best days behind her,

  managed to capture his lusty eye,

  and seduce his great position

  to low things and horrible bigamy.

  In his unlawful bed he conceived through her

  this Edward, whom we politely call the Prince.

  I could speak more bitterly,

  but respect for some people still alive

  makes me curb my tongue.

  So, my good lord, take to your royal self

  the position which we offer you:

  if not to do both us and the country good,

  to lead your noble bloodline away

  from the corruption of these bad times

  back to the proper course of its descent.

  MAYOR.

  Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.

  Do, my good lord; your citizens are begging you.

  BUCKINGHAM.

  Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

  Don't refuse the love we offer you, mighty lord.

  CATESBY.

  O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!

  Oh, give them joy, agree to their lawful requests!

  RICHARD.

  Alas, why would you heap this care on me?

  I am unfit for state and majesty.

  I do beseech you, take it not amiss:

  I cannot nor I will not yield to you.

  Alas, why do you want to load this burden on me?

  I am not fit for kingship and for rule.