O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!--
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.]
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 't is true that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say
I came into the world with my legs forward.
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried
'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
And so I was, which plainly signified
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother,
And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me! I am myself alone.--
Clarence, beware! thou keep'st me from the light;
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life,
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone;
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
What! Will the holy blood of Lancaster
sink into the ground? I thought it would have risen up.
See how my sword weeps for the death of the poor king!
Oh, I hope these purple tears will always come
from those who want our house to fall!
If there is any spark of life left in you,
go down to hell; and say that I sent you there.
I, who have neither pity, love nor fear.
It's true what Henry said about me;
for I have often heard my mother say
that I was born feet first.
Don't you think I had a good reason to hurry
to bring down those who stole our rights;
the midwife was amazed; and the women cried out,
“Oh, Jesus bless us, he has been born with teeth!"
And so I was, which clearly showed
that I would snarl and bite and be like a dog.
So, since the heavens have made my body like this,
let hell make my mind crooked to match it.
I have no brother, I'm not like any of my brothers,
and this word “love," which greybeards call divine,
is only present in men who are like each other,
and not in me! I am all alone.
Clarence, beware! You're keeping me from the light;
but I will create a black day for you;
I will create rumours of such prophecies
that Edward will be afraid for his life,
and then, to ease his fear, I shall kill you.
King Henry and his son Prince Edward have gone;
Clarence, it's your turn next, and then the rest,
I shall hate myself until I am at the top.
I'll throw your body in another room,
and the day of your death shall be my day of victory, Henry.
[Exit with the body.]
[KING EDWARD is discovered sitting on his throne; QUEEN ELIZABETH
with the infant Prince, CLARENCE, Gloster, HASTINGS, and
others, near him.]
KING EDWARD.
Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride!
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions;
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
And two Northumberlands,--two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;
With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
And made our footstool of security.--
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.--
Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,
Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
Once more I am sitting on England's royal throne,
bought back with the blood of enemies.
What brave enemies, whom we have chopped down like
autumn corn at the height of their arrogance!
Three Dukes of Somerset, triply famous
as strong and unquestioned champions;
two Cliffords, the father and son;
and two Northumberlands–two braver men
never spurred on their horses when the trumpet sounded;
with them we got the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
who put the kingly lion in chains
and made the forest tremble when they roared.
So we have removed all doubt from our claim
and made the throne safe for ourselves.
Come here, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
Young Ned, myself and your uncles have
sat up through the winter's night in our armour,
marched through the scalding heat of summer,
so that you could get back the crown and have it peacefully;
you shall reap the rewards of all our work.
Gloster.
[Aside.] I'll blast his harvest if your head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
And heave it shall some weight or break my back.--
Work thou the way,--and that shall execute.
If you get the crown I shall destroy your harvest;
as yet nobody thinks anything of me.
This shoulder was made so thick to shove;
and it will shove some people out of the way or I will break my back.
You think of the way and it will do the job.
KING EDWARD.
Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely queen;
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely Queen;
and kiss your princely nephew, my two brothers.
CLARENCE.
The duty that I owe unto your Majesty
I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
The respect that I should pay to your Majesty
I put on the lips of this sweet baby.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
Gloster.
And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.--
[Aside.] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his Master,
And cried, all hail! when as he meant all harm.
And I, to show my love for the tree from which you have grown,
give this loving kiss to the fruit.
[Aside] To tell the truth, this is how Judas kissed his master,
crying, “all hail!" when what he meant was “all harm."
KING EDWARD.
Now am I seated as my soul delights;
Having my country's peace and brothers' l
oves.
Now I have everything I want;
my country at peace and the love of my brothers.
CLARENCE.
What will your Grace have done with Margaret?
Reignier, her father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
What does your Grace want to do with Margaret?
Reignier, her father, has pawned Sicily and Jerusalem
to the King of France,
and they have sent the price here as her ransom.
KING EDWARD.
Away with her and waft her hence to France.--
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
Sound drums and trumpets!--farewell sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
Take her away and send her over to France.
And now what remains but for us to pass the time
with stately processions, amusing comedies,
suitable for the pleasure of the court?
Sound the drums and trumpets! Goodbye to strife!
For here, I hope, our lasting happiness begins.
[Exeunt.]
In Plain and Simple English
Queen Katharine
Sir Nicholas Vaux
Sir Henry Guildford
Griffith
King Henry VIII of England
Patience
Sir William Sands
Cardinal Wolsey
Sir Thomas Lovell
Stephen Gardiner
Thomas Cromwell
Brandon
Doctor Butts
Cardinal Campeius
Anne Boleyn
Lord Abergavenny
Sir Anthony Denny
Lord Capuchius
Marquess Dorset
Marquis Dorset
Princess Elizabeth
Lord Chancellor
Lord Chamberlain
Cranmer
I come no more to make you laugh: things now,
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;
The subject will deserve it. Such as give
Their money out of hope they may believe,
May here find truth too. Those that come to see
Only a show or two, and so agree
The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
I'll undertake may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they
That come to hear a merry bawdy play,
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,
Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
To make that only true we now intend,
Will leave us never an understanding friend.
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
The first and happiest hearers of the town,
Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see
The very persons of our noble story
As they were living; think you see them great,
And follow'd with the general throng and sweat
Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see
How soon this mightiness meets misery:
And, if you can be merry then, I'll say
A man may weep upon his wedding-day.
I'm no longer here to make you laugh; now
we're dealing with heavy serious matters,
serious, lofty and moving, full of dignity and sorrow;
we will now present noble scenes which will
provoke your tears. Those who can pity may
now (if they think it right) shed a tear,
the subject will deserve it. Those who put
their money down to see something believable
may find truth here too. Those who just come
for the spectacle, that's what makes them
say a play is good, if they keep still with an open mind,
I promise that they will get their shillingsworth
in two quickly passing hours. Only the ones
who have come to hear a jolly smutty play,
hear clashing shields, or to see a fellow
in a yellow trimmed clown costume,
will be disappointed: for, gentle listeners,
to show the truth we want through
comedy and fight scenes, besides spoiling
the work of our brains and
our intention to show nothing but the truth,
would make our audience abandon us.
Therefore, for goodness sake, as you are renowned
as the most important and tolerant audience in the town,
be serious, as we want you to be. Imagine you see
the characters of our noble story
as if they were alive: imagine you see them in their greatness,
followed by great crowds, the toil
of a thousand friends; then, in the blink of an eye, see
how quickly greatness can become miserable:
and if you can be jolly then, I will say
a man can weep on his wedding day.
Enter NORFOLK at one door; at the other, BUCKINGHAM and ABERGAVENNY
BUCKINGHAM
Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done
Since last we saw in France?
Good day, and welcome. How have you been
since we last met in France?
NORFOLK
I thank your grace,
Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.
Very well, thank you
your Grace; and I have not lost my admiration
for what I saw there.
BUCKINGHAM
An untimely ague
Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Andren.
An inconvenient fever
kept me a prisoner in my room when
those two glorious suns, those examples to mankind,
met in the Vale of Andren.
NORFOLK
'Twixt Guynes and Arde:
I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as they grew together;
Which had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd
Such a compounded one?
Between Guynes and Arde:
I was there at the time, and saw them greet each other on horseback;
I saw how when they dismounted they hugged
each other, as if they were a single being;
if they were, what four Kings could have matched
one such combination?
BUCKINGHAM
All the whole time
I was my chamber's prisoner.
I was confined to my room
the whole time.
NORFOLK
Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: men might say,
Till this time pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders its. To-day the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain India: every man that stood
Show'd like a mine. The
ir dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all guilt: the madams too,
Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting: now this masque
Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them; him in eye,
Still him in praise: and, being present both
'Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns--
For so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis was believed.
Then you missed
a sight of glory on earth: men might say
that grandeur was single up to now, before it married
one even greater. Every successive day
showed greater pageantry than the rest, until the last one
combined everything that had gone before. One day the French,
all glittering with gold, outshone the English
like heathen gods; and the next day
the English would display the riches of India; every man
look like a goldmine. Their little pages looked
like cherubim, all gilded: the ladies too,
unused to labour, were almost sweating to carry
the riches upon them, so that their work
brought colour to their cheeks. So this show
would be called unbeatable; and the next night
it looks like the work of a foolish beggar. The two kings,
equal in glory, were now the best, then the worst,
depending whose turn it was: with them
both there to be seen they were praised equally,
men said they could only see one king, and no
observer dared to voice any criticism. When these suns
(for that's what they call them) were challenged by their heralds
to joust with each other, they did it
better than one could imagine, they were so good
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 176