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

by William Shakespeare

  in the matter.

  FLORIZEL

  I yield all this;

  But for some other reasons, my grave sir,

  Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint

  My father of this business.

  I agree with everything you say;

  but there are some other reasons, respected sir,

  which I can't tell you about, for not telling

  my father about this business.

  POLIXENES

  Let him know't.

  Let him know about it.

  FLORIZEL

  He shall not.

  He will not.

  POLIXENES

  Prithee, let him.

  Please, let him.

  FLORIZEL

  No, he must not.

  No, he must not know.

  Shepherd

  Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve

  At knowing of thy choice.

  Let him know, my son: he'll have no reason

  to object to your choice.

  FLORIZEL

  Come, come, he must not.

  Mark our contract.

  I'm telling you, he must not know.

  Make the contract.

  POLIXENES

  Mark your divorce, young sir,

  Discovering himself

  Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base

  To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir,

  That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor,

  I am sorry that by hanging thee I can

  But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece

  Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know

  The royal fool thou copest with,--

  Make a divorce, young sir,

  [taking off his disguise]

  whom I dare not call my son; you are too low

  to be acknowledged: you, heir to a kingdom,

  dressed up as a shepherd! As for you, you old traitor,

  I'm sorry that by hanging you I can

  only shorten your life by week. And you, young

  witch, who must certainly know

  what a royal fool you're involved with–

  Shepherd

  O, my heart!

  Oh, my heart!

  POLIXENES

  I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made

  More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy,

  If I may ever know thou dost but sigh

  That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never

  I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession;

  Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,

  Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words:

  Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,

  Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee

  From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.--

  Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too,

  That makes himself, but for our honour therein,

  Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou

  These rural latches to his entrance open,

  Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,

  I will devise a death as cruel for thee

  As thou art tender to't.

  Exit

  I'll have your beauty torn with brambles, and made

  even more unattractive than your position. As for you, stupid boy,

  if I ever hear that you utter a single sigh

  because you will never again see this slut, as

  I intend you never shall, I'll strip you of your inheritance;

  you would no longer be of my blood, no, no relation,

  further off than Noah: you mark my words!

  Follow me to the court. You, peasant, for the moment,

  though you have incurred my displeasure, I'll excuse you

  from its mortal blow. And you, you witch–

  good enough for a shepherd; yes, for him too,

  who has put himself so low down that if it wasn't for my royal blood

  he would be beneath you. If you ever

  open your door to him again, or take him in your arms,

  I shall invent as cruel a method of execution for you

  as you can stand.

  PERDITA

  Even here undone

  I was not much afeard; for once or twice

  I was about to speak and tell him plainly,

  The selfsame sun that shines upon his court

  Hides not his visage from our cottage but

  Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone?

  I told you what would come of this: beseech you,

  Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,--

  Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,

  But milk my ewes and weep.

  Even in this downfall

  I was not very frightened; once or twice

  I was about to speak and tell him straight

  that the same sun that shines on his court

  does not hide its face from our cottage

  that shines down just the same. Will you please go, sir?

  I told you that this would happen: please

  look after yourself: this dream I had–

  now I'm awake, I shan't step an inch closer to being a queen,

  I shall just milk my ewes, and weep.

  CAMILLO

  Why, how now, father!

  Speak ere thou diest.

  What's to do, father!

  Speak before you die.

  Shepherd

  I cannot speak, nor think

  Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir!

  You have undone a man of fourscore three,

  That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea,

  To die upon the bed my father died,

  To lie close by his honest bones: but now

  Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me

  Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch,

  That knew'st this was the prince,

  and wouldst adventure

  To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone!

  If I might die within this hour, I have lived

  To die when I desire.

  Exit

  I cannot speak, nor think,

  or dare to know the things I know. O sir!

  You have brought down a man of eighty-three,

  that thought he was headed for a peaceful grave;

  to die on the bed my father died on,

  to be buried next to his honest bones: but now

  some hangman will prepare my corpse and bury me

  in the unhallowed ground. O you cursed wretch,

  who knew this was the prince, and still tried

  to have a relationship with him! This is the end!

  If I can die within the hour, I have lived

  as long as I want to.

  FLORIZEL

  Why look you so upon me?

  I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,

  But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;

  More straining on for plucking back, not following

  My leash unwillingly.

  Why'd you look at me like this?

  I am sorry, but not afraid; delayed,

  but not blocked: I'm still the same person;

  this setback makes me more keen to proceed,

  I don't need any persuading.

  CAMILLO

  Gracious my lord,

  You know your father's temper: at this time

  He will allow no speech, which I do guess

  You do not purpose to him; and as hardly

  Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:

  Then, till the fury of his highness settle,

  Come not before him.

  My gracious lord,

  you know what your father's temper is like: at the moment

  he won't let anyone talk to him, which I assume

  you won't try; for now I fear

  he would hardly put up wi
th the sight of you:

  so, until the anger of his Highness has abated,

  don't see him.

  FLORIZEL

  I not purpose it.

  I think, Camillo?

  I don't intend to.

  I think–Camillo?

  CAMILLO

  Even he, my lord.

  I am he, my lord.

  PERDITA

  How often have I told you 'twould be thus!

  How often said, my dignity would last

  But till 'twere known!

  How often have I told you it would turn out this way!

  How often did I say I could only keep my position

  until it was known!

  FLORIZEL

  It cannot fail but by

  The violation of my faith; and then

  Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together

  And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks:

  From my succession wipe me, father; I

  Am heir to my affection.

  You can't lose it unless

  I go against my promise; if that happens

  let nature crush the sides of the earth together

  and destroy all life within! Lift up your face:

  father, you can wipe me from the succession; I

  will inherit my love.

  CAMILLO

  Be advised.

  Be warned.

  FLORIZEL

  I am, and by my fancy: if my reason

  Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;

  If not, my senses, better pleased with madness,

  Do bid it welcome.

  I am, by my emotions: if my reason

  obeys them, I have reason;

  if not, my senses, preferring madness,

  welcomes it.

  CAMILLO

  This is desperate, sir.

  This is terrible, sir.

  FLORIZEL

  So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;

  I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,

  Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may

  Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or

  The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides

  In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath

  To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you,

  As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend,

  When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not

  To see him any more,--cast your good counsels

  Upon his passion; let myself and fortune

  Tug for the time to come. This you may know

  And so deliver, I am put to sea

  With her whom here I cannot hold on shore;

  And most opportune to our need I have

  A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared

  For this design. What course I mean to hold

  Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor

  Concern me the reporting.

  You can call it that: but all it does is keep my promise;

  so I shall call it honesty. Camillo,

  not for the throne of Bohemia, nor the glory

  that can be gained from it, not for all the sun shines on,

  or that is hidden in the earth, or the deep sea hides

  in its unknown depths, will I break my oath

  to my beautiful love here. So, I ask you,

  as you have always been my father's honoured friend,

  when he misses me–as, I swear, I intend

  never to see him again–add your good advice

  to his anger: as for the future,

  I shall take my chances. You can know this,

  and tell him, that I have gone to sea

  with the one whom I cannot stay with on shore;

  and luckily for us, I have

  a ship at anchor nearby, though not meant

  for this plan. The direction I mean to take

  it will do you no good to know, so I won't

  bother telling you.

  CAMILLO

  O my lord!

  I would your spirit were easier for advice,

  Or stronger for your need.

  Oh my lord!

  I wish your spirit was more open to advice,

  or more aware that you need it.

  FLORIZEL

  Hark, Perdita

  Drawing her aside

  I'll hear you by and by.

  Listen, Perdita.

  [to Camillo] I'll listen to you in a while.

  CAMILLO

  He's irremoveable,

  Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if

  His going I could frame to serve my turn,

  Save him from danger, do him love and honour,

  Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia

  And that unhappy king, my master, whom

  I so much thirst to see.

  His mind is made up,

  he's decided to flee. Now I would be happy, if

  I could use his departure to serve my own plans,

  save him from danger, give him love and honour,

  and get to see dear Sicily again,

  and that unhappy king, my master, whom

  I want to see so much.

  FLORIZEL

  Now, good Camillo;

  I am so fraught with curious business that

  I leave out ceremony.

  Now, good Camillo;

  I am so full of anxious business that

  I've forgotten my manners.

  CAMILLO

  Sir, I think

  You have heard of my poor services, i' the love

  That I have borne your father?

  Sir, I think

  you have heard of my poor services, done for the love

  of your father?

  FLORIZEL

  Very nobly

  Have you deserved: it is my father's music

  To speak your deeds, not little of his care

  To have them recompensed as thought on.

  You have

  acquitted yourself very nobly: my father loves

  to talk of what you have done, and is always thinking

  about how you can be rewarded.

  CAMILLO

  Well, my lord,

  If you may please to think I love the king

  And through him what is nearest to him, which is

  Your gracious self, embrace but my direction:

  If your more ponderous and settled project

  May suffer alteration, on mine honour,

  I'll point you where you shall have such receiving

  As shall become your highness; where you may

  Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see,

  There's no disjunction to be made, but by--

  As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her,

  And, with my best endeavours in your absence,

  Your discontenting father strive to qualify

  And bring him up to liking.

  Well, my lord,

  if you believe that I love the king,

  and by association what is nearest to him, which is

  your gracious self, take my advice,

  if your more important and determined plan

  can accommodate some alteration. I promise you

  I shall direct you to where you will get a welcome

  befitting your highness; where you may

  enjoy your mistress; for I can see

  that the only thing that would split you up would be–

  may heaven forbid it!–Your death. Marry her,

  and while you are away I shall do my best

  to pacify your unhappy father,

  and bring him round.

  FLORIZEL

  How, Camillo,

  May this, almost a miracle, be done?

  That I may call thee something more than man

  And after that trust to thee.

  How, Camillo,

  can this almost miracle be done?

  If it is I'll call you a superman

  an
d always trust you.

  CAMILLO

  Have you thought on

  A place whereto you'll go?

  Have you thought about

  where you will go?

  FLORIZEL

  Not any yet:

  But as the unthought-on accident is guilty

  To what we wildly do, so we profess

  Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies

  Of every wind that blows.

  I haven't yet:

  since the unexpected misfortune is what

  prompts us to rush away, so I admit

  we are the slaves of chance and must go

  wherever the wind takes us.

  CAMILLO

  Then list to me:

  This follows, if you will not change your purpose

  But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia,

  And there present yourself and your fair princess,

  For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes:

  She shall be habited as it becomes

  The partner of your bed. Methinks I see

  Leontes opening his free arms and weeping

  His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness,

  As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands

  Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him

  'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one

  He chides to hell and bids the other grow

  Faster than thought or time.

  Then listen to me:

  this is what you should do, if you won't change your mind

  and still wish to flee, make for Sicily,

  and there present yourself and your fair princess,

  for I see that's what she must be, to Leontes:

  she shall be welcomed as is fitting

  for your partner. I can imagine

  Leontes opening his generous arms and weeping

  out his welcome; he'll ask you, the son,

  to forgive him in the name of the father; he'll kiss the hands

  of your young princess; he'll talk alternately