The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 566
Not met us on the way.
Enter OSWALD
Now, where's your master'?
Welcome, my lord: I'm surprised my sweet husband
didn't meet us on the way.
Now, where's your master?
OSWALD
Madam, within; but never man so changed.
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:
His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.
Madam, he's inside; I never saw a man so changed.
I told him about the army that had landed;
he smiled: I told him you were coming:
his answer was, “that's bad": I told him about Gloucester's treachery,
and how his son served you loyally,
when I told him he called me a fool,
and told me I had everything back to front:
he seems to like the things he should hate,
and find the things he should like offensive.
GONERIL
[To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;
Giving a favour
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Then you will go no further.
This is down to his cowardly spirit,
that doesn't dare do anything: he won't be offended
by anything if it means he might have to act. Our plans on the way
might get him moving. Go back to my brother, Edmund;
speed up the gathering of his army and direct his forces:
I must change our household positions, and give my husband
the apron. This trustworthy servant
will be our go-between; before long you are likely to hear,
if you dare to do things for yourself,
the command of a mistress. Wear this; don't talk;
bend down your head: this kiss, if it could talk,
would raise your spirits to the heights:
believe, and farewell.
EDMUND
Yours in the ranks of death.
I'm yours until death.
GONERIL
My most dear Gloucester!
Exit EDMUND
O, the difference of man and man!
To thee a woman's services are due:
My fool usurps my bed.
My dearest Gloucester!
Oh how different one man is from another!
You deserve a woman's favors:
there's an idiot in my bed.
OSWALD
Madam, here comes my lord.
Exit
Enter ALBANY
Madam, here comes my lord.
GONERIL
I have been worth the whistle.
Once I was worth coming to meet.
ALBANY
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
That nature, which contemns its origin,
Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap, perforce must wither
And come to deadly use.
Oh Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rough wind
blows in your face. I fear your character:
the nature of someone who condemns their parents
cannot be thought of as properly balanced;
the one who will cut herself off
from her family tree will surely wither
and eventually die.
GONERIL
No more; the text is foolish.
That's enough, this is foolish talk.
ALBANY
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
It will come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.
To those who are vile, wisdom and goodness seem vile:
foulness only tastes itself. What have you done?
Wild beasts, not daughters, what have you done?
A father, a good old man-
whom even a trapped bear would show respect to,
however barbaric and degenerate it was!-you have driven mad.
How could my good brother have let you do it?
A man, a prince, whom he had treated so well!
If the heavens do not quickly send down their physical
messengers to punish these horrible crimes,
it will turn out
that humankind will turn on itself,
like the monsters of the sea.
GONERIL
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
With plumed helm thy state begins to threat;
Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
'Alack, why does he so?'
You lily-livered man!
You have a cheek for slapping, a head to hurt;
you do not have the sense to see the difference
between what should be tolerated and what not; you don't know
that only fools pity those villains who get punished
in order to prevent their mischief. Where's your drum?
France is raising his flags in our silent land;
in his plumed helmet he is beginning to threaten your state,
while you sit here moralising, and crying,
“Alas, why is he doing this?"
ALBANY
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.
Look at yourself, devil!
The deformity which suits a demon
looks more horrible in a woman.
GONERIL
O vain fool!
You stupid fool!
ALBANY
Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee.
You changed and disguised
thing, for shame,
take that devilish look off your face. If I was inclined
to let my hands obey my feelings
they would be ready to separate and tear
your flesh and your bones: but however evil you are
your woman's body protects you.
GONERIL
Marry, your manhood now--
Enter a Messenger
Right, well your manhood–
ALBANY
What news?
What is the news?
Messenger
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloucester.
Oh, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead:
killed by his servant as he went to put out
Gloucester's other eye.
ALBANY
Gloucester's eye!
Gloucester's eye!
Messenger
A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Opposed against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.
A servant whom he had raised, full of remorse,
fought against him, drawing his sword
against his great master; enraged by this
his master attacked him and struck him dead,
but not without receiving the fatal wound, which later
killed him too.
ALBANY
This shows you are above,
You justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
Lost he his other eye?
This shows you are still sitting above,
you justices, that can so quickly punish
our crimes down below! But oh, poor Gloucester!
Did he lose his other eye?
Messenger
Both, both, my lord.
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.
He lost them both, my lord.
This letter, madam, begs for a quick reply;
it is from your sister.
GONERIL
[Aside] One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life: another way,
The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer.
Exit
In one way I'm pleased with this;
but now she is a widow, and has my Gloucester with her,
she could destroy all my fantasies
and ruin my life: in another way
the news is not so bad.–I'll read it, and answer.
ALBANY
Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Where was his son when they blinded him?
Messenger
Come with my lady hither.
Coming here with my lady.
ALBANY
He is not here.
He is not here.
Messenger
No, my good lord; I met him back again.
No, my good lord; I met him going back.
ALBANY
Knows he the wickedness?
Does he know of the wickedness?
Messenger
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.
Yes, my good lord; it was he who turned him in;
he left the house on purpose, so that they could have
more freedom to carry out their punishment.
ALBANY
Gloucester, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:
Tell me what more thou know'st.
Exeunt
Gloucester, I dedicate my life
to thanking you for the love that you showed the King,
and to revenge your blinding. Come with me, friend:
tell me what else you know.
Enter KENT and a Gentleman
KENT
Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back
know you the reason?
Do you know why the King of France
has so suddenly gone back?
Gentleman
Something he left imperfect in the
state, which since his coming forth is thought
of; which imports to the kingdom so much
fear and danger, that his personal return was
most required and necessary.
He had left something in a bad way in his
country which he has thought of since he left;
it was a matter of such danger to the kingdom
that it was essential for him
to return and deal with it personally.
KENT
Who hath he left behind him general?
Who has he left behind in charge?
Gentleman
The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.
The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.
KENT
Did your letters pierce the queen to any
demonstration of grief?
Did your letters seem to cause the Queen
any unhappiness?
Gentleman
Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.
Yes, sir; she took them and read them in my presence;
now and then a great tear would roll down
her delicate cheek: it seemed that she was controlling
her feelings, which threatened to overcome her.
KENT
O, then it moved her.
Oh, so it moved her.
Gentleman
Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
If all could so become it.
Not to anger: self-control and sadness fought
to give her the most beautiful expression. You have seen
sunshine and rain at the same time: her smiles and tears
were similar, but better: those little smiles
which played on her ripe lips seemed to be unaware
of the tears in her eyes, which fell from there
like pearls dropping from diamonds. To sum up,
everyone would love sorrow
if everybody showed it like this.
KENT
Made she no verbal question?
Did she ask no questions?
Gentleman
'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father'
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart:
Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!
Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?
Let pity not be believed!' There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
And clamour moisten'd: then away she started
To deal with grief alone.
Well once or twice she sighed the name ‘father’
as if it was breaking her heart:
she cried out, ‘Sisters! Sisters! You're a shame to womankind! Sisters!
Kent! Father! Sisters! What, in the storm? In the night?
For pity's sake let this be untrue!’ Then she burst out
with holy tears from her wonderful eyes,
and her words were lost in her sobs: then she went away
to deal with her grief in private.
KENT
It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions;
Else one self mate and make could not beget
Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
It is the stars,
the stars above us, which control our nature;
otherwise two people could not breed
such different children. You haven't spoken to her since?
Gentleman
No.
No.
KENT
Was this before the king return'd?
Was this before the king returned?
Gentleman
No, since.
No, since.
KENT
Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town;
Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.
Well, sir, poor distressed Lear is in the town;
who occasionally, when he's in his senses, remembers
why we have come, and refuses
to see his daughter.
Gentleman
Why, good sir?
Why, good sir?
KENT
A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,