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

by William Shakespeare

You have kept a thousand daggers in your thoughts

  which you have sharpened on your heart of stone,

  to stab me in my last half hour of life.

  What! Can't you put up with me for half an hour?

  Then go away and dig my grave yourself,

  and let the merry bells ring out

  for your coronation, not my funeral.

  Let all the tears that should cover my hearse

  be drops of ointment to bless your head:

  let me be mixed with the forgotten dust;

  give what gave you life to the worms.

  Remove my officers, break my laws;

  now the time has come to mock proper behaviour;

  Harry the Fifth is crowned: come on, frivolity!

  Down with royal dignity! All you wise counsellors, get out!

  Bring lazy monkeys to the English court

  from every region!

  Now, neighbouring countries, throw out your scum!

  Do you have a scoundrel who will swear, drink, dance,

  party all night, rob, murder and commit

  all the oldest sins in the newest kind of ways?

  Be happy, he won't bother you any longer.

  England shall give him great rewards for his bad behaviour,

  office, honour and power:

  for the fifth Harry tears off the muzzle of restraint

  from all control, and the wild dog

  will plunge its teeth into every innocent.

  Oh my poor Kingdom, sick from civil war!

  When I couldn't prevent you rioting,

  what will you do when a rioter is in charge?

  Oh, you will become a wilderness again,

  populated by wolves, your old residents!

  PRINCE.

  O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,

  The moist impediments unto my speech,

  I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke

  Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard

  The course of it so far. There is your crown:

  And He that wears the crown immortally

  Long guard it yours! If I affect it more

  Than as your honour and as your renown,

  Let me no more from this obedience rise,

  Which my most inward true and duteous spirit

  Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending.

  God witness with me, when I here came in,

  And found no course of breath within your majesty,

  How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,

  O, let me in my present wildness die

  And never live to show the incredulous world

  The noble change that I have purposed!

  Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,

  And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,

  I spake unto this crown as having sense,

  And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending

  Hath fed upon the body of my father;

  Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold:

  Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,

  Preserving life in medicine potable;

  But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,

  Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal liege,

  Accusing it, I put it on my head,

  To try with it, as with an enemy

  That had before my face murder'd my father,

  The quarrel of a true inheritor.

  But if it did infect my blood with joy,

  Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;

  If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

  Did with the least affection of a welcome

  Give entertainment to the might of it,

  Let God for ever keep it from my head

  And make me as the poorest vassal is

  That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!

  Oh pardon me, my lord! But for my tears,

  which were choking off my speech,

  I would have prevented this terrible rebuke,

  before you spoke with such grief and I heard

  so much of. Here is your crown;

  and may he who wears the heavenly crown

  keep this one yours for a long time! If I think it is

  anything apart from your honour and your fame

  let me never arise from my knees again,

  as my truest inward spirit is reflected

  in my exterior bending.

  As God is my witness, when I came in here,

  and found your Majesty not breathing,

  what a chill it struck my heart! If I am pretending,

  oh, let me die in my current lawless state,

  and never live to show the amazed world

  the noble changes that I intend to make!

  Coming to look at you, thinking you were dead,

  and being almost killed, my lord, by the thought that you were,

  I spoke to this crown as if it was alive,

  and criticised it like this: “the cares that come with you

  have destroyed my father's body;

  therefore you, the best gold, are the worst gold.

  Other gold, less pure, is more precious,

  saving lives in drinkable medicine;

  but you, the finest, most honoured, most famous,

  have killed your owner". So, my most royal Lord,

  accusing it, I put it on my head,

  to fight with it, as if it was an enemy

  that had murdered my father in front of my face,

  taking on the fight of a true heir.

  But if it gave me any pleasure,

  or made me think with any sort of pride,

  if any rebellious or vain part of me

  showed any disposition towards

  being pleased with the power of it,

  let God keep it from my head forever,

  and make me like the poorest peasant,

  who kneels before it in awe and terror!

  KING.

  O my son,

  God put it in thy mind to take it hence,

  That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,

  Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!

  Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;

  And hear, I think, the very latest counsel

  That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,

  By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways

  I met this crown; and I myself know well

  How troublesome it sat upon my head.

  To thee it shall descend with better quiet,

  Better opinion, better confirmation;

  For all the soil of the achievement goes

  With me into the earth. It seem'd in me

  But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand,

  And I had many living to upbraid

  My gain of it by their assistances;

  Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,

  Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears

  Thou see'st with peril I have answered;

  For all my reign hath been but as a scene

  Acting that argument: and now my death

  Changes the mode; for what in me was purchased,

  Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;

  So thou the garland wear'st successively.

  Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,

  Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;

  And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,

  Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;

  By whose fell working I was first advanced

  And by whose power I well might lodge a fear

  To be again displaced: which to avoid,

  I cut them off; and had a purpose now

  To lead out many to the Holy Land,

  Lest rest and lying still might make them look

  Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,

  Be it thy course to busy giddy mi
nds

  With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,

  May waste the memory of the former days.

  More would I, but my lungs are wasted so

  That strength of speech is utterly denied me.

  How I came by the crown, O God, forgive;

  And grant it may with thee in true peace live!

  Oh my son,

  God put it in your mind to take it away,

  so you could win more of your father's love,

  speaking so wisely to explain yourself!

  Come here, Harry, sit on my bed,

  and hear, I think, the very last advice

  that I shall ever give. God knows, my son,

  the strange and crooked ways

  I came to this crown, and I know perfectly well

  what trouble it caused me to wear it.

  It shall come to you more quietly,

  more wisely, more legitimately,

  for all the stain of the way I got it

  shall be buried with me. With me it seemed

  to be just an honour stolen by force,

  and I had many people who criticised

  the way I gained it with their actions,

  which daily swelled until we had war and bloodshed,

  damaging the peace I intended. You have seen me

  face down all these challenges and the dangers they brought;

  my entire reign has just been fighting over

  that argument. And now my death

  changes things, for what I bought

  comes to you in a better way;

  you inherit the crown.

  But though you are more secure than I was,

  you are not solid enough, since grief is still fresh in the memory;

  and all my friends, which you must make your friends,

  have only just lost their powers;

  I first gained my position through them,

  and I had every reason to fear

  those same powers could overthrow me; to avoid that,

  I cut them off, and I intended

  to take many of them with me to the holy land,

  in case too much leisure might make them look

  enviously at my position. So, my Harry,

  what you must do is keep their giddy minds busy

  with foreign wars, so that sort of action

  can obliterate the memory of past days.

  I would tell you more, but my lungs are so ruined

  that I can no longer speak.

  May God forgive me for the way I came by the Crown,

  and may you have true peace when you wear it!

  PRINCE.

  My gracious liege,

  You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;

  Then plain and right must my possession be:

  Which I with more than with a common pain

  'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

  My gracious lord,

  you won it, wore it, kept it, gave it to me;

  and so when I have it it will be by right:

  and I will do whatever it takes

  to uphold my rights against all the world.

  [Enter Lord John of Lancaster.]

  KING.

  Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.

  Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.

  LANCASTER.

  Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!

  Health, peace and happiness to my royal father!

  KING.

  Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;

  But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown

  From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight

  My worldly business makes a period.

  Where is my Lord of Warwick?

  You bring me happiness and peace, son John;

  but health, alas, has flown away like youth

  from this old withered tree: on seeing you

  my worldly business comes to an end.

  Where is my Lord of Warwick?

  PRINCE.

  My Lord of Warwick!

  My Lord of Warwick!

  [Re-enter Warwick, and others.]

  KING.

  Doth any name particular belong

  Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

  Does the room where I first collapsed

  have any particular name?

  WARWICK.

  'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.

  It's called Jerusalem, my noble Lord.

  KING.

  Laud be to God! even there my life must end.

  It hath been prophesied to me many years,

  I should not die but in Jerusalem;

  Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land:

  But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;

  In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

  Praise be to God! That is where my life must end.

  It had been prophesied to me for many years

  that I would only die in Jerusalem;

  my vanity made me think that meant the holy land.

  But carry me to that chamber; I shall lie there;

  Harry shall die in that Jerusalem.

  [Exeunt.]

  [Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph, and Page.]

  SHALLOW.

  By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.

  What, Davy, I say!

  I swear, Sir, you shall not leave tonight.

  Where are you, Davy!

  FALSTAFF.

  You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

  You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

  SHALLOW.

  I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses

  shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall

  not be excused. Why, Davy!

  I won't excuse you; you shall not be excused; we won’t allow

  any excuses; no excuse will do; you shall

  not be excused. Why, Davy!

  [Enter Davy.]

  DAVY.

  Here, sir.

  Here I am, sir.

  SHALLOW.

  Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me see,

  Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither.

  Sir John, you shall not be excused.

  Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me see,

  Davy; let me see: yes, that's it, tell William the cook to come here.

  Sir John, you shall not be excused.

  DAVY.

  Marry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be served; and,

  again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat?

  We must think of this, sir; these writs cannot be served; and,

  again, Sir, shall we sow the spare land with wheat?

  SHALLOW.

  With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: are there no

  young pigeons?

  With red wheat, Davy. But I was talking of William the cook: are there no

  young pigeons?

  DAVY.

  Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and

  plough-irons.

  Yes, sir. Now here is the blacksmith's bill for shoeing the horses

  and for parts of the plough.

  SHALLOW.

  Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.

  Add it up and pay it. Sir John, you shall not be excused.

  DAVY.

  Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had: and, sir, do

  you mean to stop any of William's wages, about the sack he lost the

  other day at Hinckley fair?

  Now, sir, we need a new chain for the bucket: and, sir, do

  you intend to make any deductions from William's wages, with regard

  to the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair?

  SHALLOW.

  A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legg'd

  hens, a joint of mutton, and any
pretty little tiny kickshaws,

  tell William cook.

  He shall pay for it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short legged

  hens, a joint of mutton and any pretty little extras, tell William the cook.

  DAVY.

  Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

  Is the soldier stopping the night, sir?

  SHALLOW.

  Yea, Davy. I will use him well: a friend i' the court is better

  than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they are

  arrant knaves, and will backbite.

  Yes, Davy. I shall treat him well: a friend in the court is better

  than a penny in the purse. Treat his men well, Davy; for they are cheeky knaves, and will bite at you.

  DAVY.

  No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they have marvellous

  foul linen.

  No worse than they will be bitten, sir; for they have incredibly

  dirty clothes.

  SHALLOW.

  Well conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy.

  Well played, Davy: go on with your work, Davy.

  DAVY.

  I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot

  against Clement Perkes of the hill.

  I must ask you, sir, to consider the case of William Visor of Woncot

  against Clement Perkes of the hill.

  SHALLOW.

  There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor: that

  Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.

  Many complaints, Davy, have been made against that Visor:

  here's a complete scoundrel, to my knowledge.

  DAVY.

  I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet, God forbid,

  sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request.

  An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.

  I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if I cannot

  once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I

  have but a very little credit with your worship.