The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (180 page)

King

Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

I serve under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

Williams

A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I


pray you, what thinks he of our estate?

He is a good old commander and kind gentleman. May I ask, what he thinks of our situation?

King

Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look to be


wash'd off the next tide.

He thinks we look like men wrecked on a beach about to be swept out to sea.

Bates

He hath not told his thought to the King?

Has he told the king?

King

No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.

No, and I don’t think he should. Even though I am telling you, the king is a man and can see the situation. He feels just like a man, and he fears just like a man, but he can’t show it like a man or else his men would sense it and become disheartened.

Bates

He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.

He may appear courageous, but I bet he wishes he were in the Thames up to his neck. I know I would if I were him, I am so ready to be done here.

King

By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.

Honestly, I don’t think he would rather be anywhere but here.

Bates

Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.

Then, I wish he were here alone for he would surely be ransomed and many men’s lives would be spared.

King

I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds. Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.

I guess you don’t love him so much, if you wish he were here alone, unless you are saying that just to feel out other men. I could not die anywhere as happily as with the king. His cause is just and his argument is honorable.

Williams

That's more than we know.

You know more than us.

Bates

Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the King's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.

Yes, or you know more than we should. Regardless of the valor in his argument, we are his subjects and must follow him.

Williams

But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, "We died at such a place"; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.

If his cause is not good, he has a heavy reckoning to make, when all the legs, arms, and heads, chopped off in battle, join together on Judgment Day and cry, “We died at France.” There are a few who will die well in battle, but how can a person expect forgiveness when they spent their lives killing? If these men go without God’s grace, the king will have a heavy price to pay, because who of his subjects could refuse him.

King

So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconcil'd


iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the


arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of Peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that here men are punish'd for before-breach of the King's laws in now the King's quarrel. Where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's duty is the King's; but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.

So, if a son, dutiful to his father, is sent to commit sins upon the sea, the punishment should be on his father’s head, or if a servant, under his master’s command, gets robbed and killed, then it is the master’s fault that sent him. It is not the fault of the father, the master or the king, because the others offer their deaths when they offer their services. Anyway, has there ever been a king whose men were blameless? Some may have been guilty of murder while others of stealing. If these men escaped prosecution at home, they cannot escape God’s. War is a holy instrument of justice. So, some men pay for their crimes with their lives in the king’s war. The king is no guiltier of their damnation as he was their earlier crimes. Every man is responsible for his own soul. Therefore, every man should make amends for their sins so in death they will have a clear conscience. And, if he doesn’t die, he can live to tell his story to the glory of God.

Williams

'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head, the King is not to answer for it.

It’s certain that any man who dies from illness, the illness is the fault of the king.

Bates

I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.

I don’t want him to answer for me, and I willingly will fight for him.

King

I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom'd.

I heard the king say he would not be ransomed.

Williams

Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our


throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.

He said that to make us fight harder, but when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed and we won’t know the difference.

King

If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.

If I live to see it, I won’t believe him ever again.

Williams

You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying.

You go tell him, then. What a pathetic threat! You may as well try to turn the sun to ice. “You’ll never trust his word again.” What a stupid thing to say.

King

Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.

You are out of line. I would be angry if I had the time.

Williams

Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.

Well, if we live, let it be a quarrel between us.

King

I embrace it.

I will.

Williams

How shall I know thee again?

How will I know you again?

King

Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet; then, if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

Give me something to remember you by and I will wear it in my bonnet. Then, if you acknowledge it, I will quarrel with you.

Williams

Here's my glove; give me another of thine.

Here’s my glove. Give me one of yours.

King

There.

There.

Williams

This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me


and say, after to-morrow, "This is my glove," by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear.

I will wear it in my cap, and if you ever come to me and say, “This is my glove,” I will box you on the ear with this hand.

King

If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

If I live to see it, I will challenge you.

Williams

Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.

You might as well be hanged.

King

Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.

I will do it, even in front of the king.

Williams

Keep thy word; fare thee well.

Keep your word. Goodbye.

Bates

Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have


French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Be friends, you English fools. We have enough French quarrels for you to worry about.

King

Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one


they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the King himself will be a clipper.


Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,


Our debts, our careful wives,


Our children, and our sins lay on the King!


We must bear all. O hard condition,


Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath


Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel


But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease


Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!


And what have kings, that privates have not too,


Save ceremony, save general ceremony?


And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony?


What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more


Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?


What are thy rents? What are thy comings in?


O Ceremony, show me but thy worth!


What is thy soul of adoration?


Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,


Creating awe and fear in other men?


Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd


Than they in fearing.


What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,


But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,


And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure!


Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out


With titles blown from adulation?


Will it give place to flexure and low bending?


Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,


Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,


That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;


I am a king that find thee, and I know


'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,


The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,


The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,


The farced title running 'fore the King,


The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp


That beats upon the high shore of this world,


No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremony,--


Not all these, laid in bed majestical,


Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,


Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind


Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread,


Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,


But, like a lackey, from the rise to set


Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night


Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,


Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,


And follows so the ever-running year,


With profitable labour, to his grave:


And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,


Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,


Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.


The slave, a member of the country's peace,


Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots


What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace,


Whose hours the peasant best advantages.