The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 517
end his misery.
SICILIUS.
Peep through thy marble mansion. Help!
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To th' shining synod of the rest
Against thy deity.
Look down from the clouds.Help!
or we poor ghosts will call out
to all the shining host,
against your godliness.
BROTHERS.
Help, Jupiter! or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.
Help, Jupiter!Or we will rebel
and fly from your justice.
JUPITER
descends-in thunder and lightning, sitting
upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The GHOSTS
fall on their knees
JUPITER.
No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
Accuse the Thunderer whose bolt, you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flow'rs.
Be not with mortal accidents opprest:
No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift;
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married. Rise and fade!
He shall be lord of Lady Imogen,
And happier much by his affliction made.
This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine;
And so, away; no farther with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
[Ascends]
You lowly mortals, stop
offending my hearing; hush!How dare you ghosts
accuse the Thunderer, whose bolts, you know,
crash from the sky and batter all rebels?
Poor shades from Elysium, go away and rest
on your banks of eternal flowers.
Don't get involved with the affairs of men,
which are none of your concern; you know they're mine.
I cause pain to the ones I love best, so that they will
enjoy my gifts all the more.Be happy;
your reduced son will be lifted up by my godliness;
his happiness is coming, his trials are over.
The star of Jupiter ruled over his birth, and
he was married in my temple.Rise and fall!
He shall be Lady Imogen's husband,
and be much happier due to his suffering.
Place this tablet on his breast, which
details the great good fortune I am giving him;
and so, go; don't express your discontent
any longer, in case you stir up mine.
Climb, eagle, up to my palace in the sky.
SICILIUS.
He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulpherous to smell; the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us. His ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.
He came with thunder; his heavenly breath
smelt of sulphur; the holy eagle swooped
as if it was going to seize us.His climbing away
is even sweeter than our blessed fields.His royal bird
folds his immortal wings and tucks away his beak,
showing his god is happy.
ALL.
Thanks, Jupiter!
Our thanks, Jupiter!
SICILIUS.
The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
[GHOSTS vanish]
The clouds close, he has gone
back into heaven.Let's go!And, to have his blessing,
let's follow his great orders to the letter.
POSTHUMUS.
[Waking] Sleep, thou has been a grandsire and begot
A father to me; and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn,
Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born.
And so I am awake. Poor wretches, that depend
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done;
Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve;
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,
That have this golden chance, and know not why.
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one!
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects
So follow to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.
[Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,
without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender
air;
and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches which,
being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the
old
stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his
miseries,
Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'
'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen
Tongue, and brain not; either both or nothing,
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such
As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep, if but for sympathy.
Re-enter GAOLER
Sleep, you have been a grandfather to me and conceived
a father for me; and you created
a mother and two brothers.But, a mockery,
gone!They disappeared as quickly as they came;
and now I am awake.Poor wretches, who depend
on the favour of the great, dream as I have;
then they wake and find nothing.But alas, I'm wandering;
many don't dream to find , and don't deserve,
but still get, great favours, and I'm one of them,
who has this golden chance and doesn't know why.
What fairies haunt this place?A book?What a beautiful one!
Don't be, as it is in our foppish world, better outside
than in.Let you what you have to say
be very unlike our courtiers,
and actually live up to your external promise.
'When the child of a lion shall find without seeking,
unbeknownst to himself, and be embraced by a piece of tender air;
and when from a great cedar tree branches are lopped which,
having been dead for many years, will afterwards revive, be grafted
onto the old tree, and grow afresh; then the misery of Posthumus will end,
and Britain shall be lucky and flourish with peace and prosperity.'
It's still a dream, or the sort of thing madmen
say without thinking; it's either both or nothing,
speech without sense, or speech that sense
can't understand.Whatever it is,
it seems to follow my life, and I'll keep it,
if only out of sympathy.
GAOLER.
Come, sir, are you ready for death?
Come, sir, are you ready for death?
POSTHUMUS.
Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.
Rather overdone; I was ready long ago.
GAOLER.
Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you
are
well cook'd.
&n
bsp; You are to be hung, they say, sir; if you are ready for that,
you are well done.
POSTHUMUS.
So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the
dish
pays the shot.
As long as I give the spectators a good meal,
the meat pays for itself.
GAOLER.
A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you
shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern
bills,
which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of
mirth.
You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too
much
drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you
are
paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the
heavier
for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of
heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O,
the
charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You
have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is,
and
to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and
counters; so the acquittance follows.
It's a heavy price for you to pay, sir.But the good thing is,
you will never be asked to pay again, you won't have to fear tavern bills,
which often cause sadness on parting, after you've had your fun;
you come in faint with hunger, and leave reeling with too much drink;
sorry that you have paid so much and sorry that you've had too much;
your brain and purse are both empty; the brain is heavier
for being too light, and the purse is too light, having lost its heaviness.
You won't have to face this contradiction any more.
Oh, the charity of a cheap rope!It settles thousands of bills in an instant.
You have no real debtor or creditor except for it; what's past
and what is to come, it pays for all.Your neck sir, is the pen, the ledger
and the counters; after it's paid, everything is settled.
POSTHUMUS.
I am merrier to die than thou art to live.
It seems I'm happier to die than you are to live.
GAOLER.
Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache.
But a
man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him
to
bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for
look
you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
Indeed, sir, the one who sleeps doesn't feel the toothache.
But if a man was to sleep the sleep you're going to, with a hangman
to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his helper;
for look, sir, you don't know where you're going.
POSTHUMUS.
Yes indeed do I, fellow.
Actually I certainly do, fellow.
GAOLER.
Your death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen
him so
pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon
them
to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do
not
know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how
you
shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never
return to
tell one.
Your death has eyes in its head, then; I've never seen him pictured
like that.You must have either been told something by those in the know,
or think you know something which I'm sure you don't,
or you're trying not to think of what might be coming after.And how
you'll get to your journey's end, I don't think you'll ever
Come back to tell us.
POSTHUMUS.
I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
direct
them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use
them.
I tell you, fellow, there's nobody who's so blind about the way I'm going
as those who have eyes and don't use them.
GAOLER.
What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have
the
best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure
hanging's
the way of winking.
Enter a MESSENGER
What a great joke this is, that a man should use his eyes best
to see like a blind man!I'm sure hanging will make you blind.
MESSENGER.
Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the
King.
Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King.
POSTHUMUS.
Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made
free.
You've brought good news: they're calling me to set me free.
GAOLER.
I'll be hang'd then.
Well I'll be hanged.
POSTHUMUS.
Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for
the
dead.
Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER
Then you would be freer than a jailer: there are no bolts that can restrain ghosts.
GAOLER.
Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young
gibbets,
I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are
verier
knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be
some
of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I
were
one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O,
there
were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my
present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't.
Exit
Unless a man married a gallows and fathered nooses,
I never saw anyone so eager.But I must say, there are
worse scoundrels who want to live, for all that he's a Roman; and some of them
die against their will; I would too, if I were one.
I wish we all thought the same, and all thought good thoughts.
Oh, I wish there were a famine of jailers and gallows!I speak against
my immediate gain, but I hope it comes true and I would get a better job.
Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS,
OFFICERS, and attendants
CYMBELINE.
Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found.
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
saviours of my throne.I am very sad
that the poor soldier who fought so well,
whose rags covered strong arms, whose armourless chest
was greater than tested shields, cannot be found.
Whoever finds him will be happy,
if it's in my power to make him so.
BELARIUS.
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought
But beggary and poor looks.
I never saw
such noble courage from such a lowly man;
such amazing deeds from one who
looked so poor and beggarly.
CYMBELINE.
No tidings of
him?
Is there no news of him?
PISANIO.
He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
They have looked for him amongst the living and the dead,
but there's no trace of him.
CYMBELINE.
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and
ARVIRAGUS]which I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain, of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are. Report it.
To my sorrow, I am the one
who benefits from his deeds;
and I include you in this prize,
the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
and I say she lives because of you.Now's the time
to ask where you came from.Tell us.
BELARIUS.
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen;
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add we are honest.
Sir,
We come from Wales, and are gentlemen;
to boast any more would either be false or immodest,
unless I add that we are honest.
CYMBELINE.
Bow your knees,
Arise my knights o' th' battle; I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES
There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,
And not o' th' court of Britain.
Bow your knees,
and rise the knights of the battlefield; I appoint you
to be my companions, and will give you
privileges fitting your positions.
Enter Cornelius and ladies
There's something going on, to judge from these faces.Why
are you so sad at our victory?You look as if you were Romans,
and not members of the British court.