The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 97
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:
O me! come near me; now I am much ill.
And why should I become sick at this good news?
Can fortune never come with unmitigated good,
does she always have to bring something foul as well?
She either makes you hungry, and gives you no food;
that's the position of the poor, when they are well; or else gives you a feast
and takes away your appetite; that's the position of the rich,
who have wealth and cannot enjoy it.
I should now be rejoicing at this happy news;
and now my sight is failing, and I am dizzy,
alas! Come near me; now I am very ill.
GLOUCESTER.
Comfort, your majesty!
Be easy, your Majesty!
CLARENCE.
O my royal father!
O my royal father!
WESTMORELAND.
My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
My royal lord, cheer yourself up, look up.
WARWICK.
Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary.
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.
Be calm, princes; you should know that these fits
are very common with his Highness.
Stand away from him, give him air; he'll be alright shortly.
CLARENCE.
No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs:
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
So thin that life looks through and will break out.
No, no, he won't be able to survive this pain for long:
the continuous care and toil of his mind
has made the wall that should keep life in
so thin that it sees through it and will escape.
GLOUCESTER.
The people fear me; for they do observe
Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.
The people worry me, for they have seen
children born without fathers, and deformed animals:
the seasons have not had their usual weather, as if the year
had been asleep for some months, and had skipped over them.
CLARENCE.
The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.
The river has flooded three times, with no respite between:
and the old folk, the ones time uses to record history,
say it did the same a little while before
our great-grandfather, Edward, became sick and died.
WARWICK.
Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
Speak more quietly, Princes, for the King is recovering.
GLOUCESTER.
This apoplexy will certain be his end.
These fits will certainly kill him.
KING.
I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, pray.
Please, pick me up, and take me from here
into some other room: gently, please.
[Exeunt.]
[The King lying on a bed: Clarence, Gloucester, Warwick,
and others in attendance.]
KING.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
Don't make any noise, kind friends,
unless some soft and sweet hand
wants to offer my weary spirit some music.
WARWICK.
Call for the music in the other room.
Tell the musicians to play in the other room.
KING.
Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Put the crown by me on my pillow.
CLARENCE.
His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
His eyes are sunken, he's changed a lot.
WARWICK.
Less noise! less noise!
Less noise, less noise!
[Enter Prince Henry.]
PRINCE.
Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
Has anyone seen the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE.
I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
I am here, brother, full of sorrow.
PRINCE.
How now! rain within doors, and none abroad!
How doth the king?
What's this? Rain indoors, and none outside!
How is the king?
GLOUCESTER.
Exceeding ill.
Extremely ill.
PRINCE.
Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
Has he heard the good news yet? Tell him.
GLOUCESTER.
He alt'red much upon the hearing it.
He changed greatly when he heard it.
PRINCE.
If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.
If he is sick with joy he'll recover without medicine.
WARWICK.
Not so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, speak low;
The king your father is disposed to sleep.
Don't make so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, speak softly;
your father the king wants to sleep.
CLARENCE.
Let us withdraw into the other room.
Let's go into the other room.
WARWICK.
Will't please your grace to go along with us?
Will your grace come along with us?
PRINCE.
No; I will sit and watch here by the king.
[Exeunt all but the Prince.]
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!
This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep
That from this golden rigol hath divorced
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,
Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: this from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
No, I will keep a vigil here with the king.
Why is the crown lying there on his pillow,
being such a troublesome bedfellow?
You polished disturbance! Golden worry!
You have kept his eyes open on too many
sleepless nights! He sleeps with it now!
But not half so deeply or sweetly as one
whose head is covered with a coarse nightcap
and
snores through the night. Oh majesty!
When you sit on your wearer you are like
heavy armour worn in the sunshine,
that scalds as it protects. By his mouth
there is a soft feather which isn't moving;
if he breathed out, that light thing
would have to move. My gracious lord! My father!
This is indeed a sound sleep; this is a sleep
which this golden circlet has kept
from so many English kings. I owe you
tears and great melancholy,
which nature, love and a son's feelings
shall give you in abundance, dear father;
what you will pay me is this imperial crown,
which, as the closest to you in position and kinship,
comes down to me. Look, here it sits,
and God shall protect it: if the strength of the whole world
became one giant arm it could not steal
my inheritance from me: this thing you give
I shall pass on to my heirs, as you do to me.
[Exit.]
KING.
Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!
Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!
[Re-enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence, and the rest.]
CLARENCE.
Doth the king call?
Did the king call?
WARWICK.
What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
What does your majesty want? How are you?
KING.
Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
CLARENCE.
We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
We left the prince my brother here, my lord,
who said he would keep vigil by you.
KING.
The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him:
He is not here.
The Prince of Wales! Where is he? Let me see him:
he is not here.
WARWICK.
This door is open; he is gone this way.
The door is open; he has gone this way.
GLOUCESTER.
He came not through the chamber where we stay'd.
He didn't come through the room where we were waiting.
KING.
Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?
Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
WARWICK.
When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
When we went out, my lord, we left it here.
KING.
The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out.
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
My sleep my death?
Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick.]
This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!
How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object!
For this the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,
Their bones with industry;
For this they have engross'd and piled up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises;
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets,
Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,
Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste
Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
[Re-enter Warwick.]
Now where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?
The prince has taken it away: go and find him.
Is he so eager that he imagines
my sleep is my death?
Find him, my lord of Warwick; send him back here.
His leaving has combined with my illness,
and helps to finish me. See, sons, what you are like!
How quickly nature rebels against itself
when there's gold to be had!
This is what the foolish prudent fathers
have ruined their sleep for, worn out their minds
with thought, and their bones with work;
for this they amassed and piled up
diseased heaps of gold from distant lands;
they have been careful to educate their sons
in the arts and martial virtues;
and like the bees who gather from each flower
their goodness,
we come back to the hive with our thighs full of wax and
our mouths with honey, and like the bees we are murdered
for our troubles. This is the bitter taste
in the mouth of the dying father.
Where is the one who wouldn't stay long enough
to see his ally sickness finish me off?
WARWICK.
My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
with tears running down his noble cheeks,
looking so terribly sad that
tyranny, which never drank anything but blood,
would, when he saw him, have washed his knife
with gentle tears. He is coming.
KING.
But wherefore did he take away the crown?
[Re-Enter Prince Henry.]
Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
But why did he take away the crown?
Look, here he comes. Come here to me, Harry.
Leave the room, leave us alone.
[Exeunt Warwick and the rest.]
PRINCE.
I never thought to hear you speak again.
I never thought I'd hear you speak again.
KING.
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair
That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours
Were thine without offence; and at my death
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:
Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head:
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
For now a time is come to mock at form:
Harry the Fifth is crown'd
: up, vanity!
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness!
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more;
England shall double gild his treble guilt,
England shall give him office, honour, might;
For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
That was what you wished for, Harry;
I have stayed too long, you're bored with me.
Are you so desperate for my throne
that you have to take away my titles
before it's your time? You foolish youth!
You are looking for greatness that will crush you.
Just stay a little while; my life is hanging
by a weak thread, and I will soon be gone.
You have stolen something that in a few hours
would be yours without needing any crime; and on my deathbed
you have confirmed my suspicions:
your life showed that you did not love me,
and you want me to die certain of it.