The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (184 page)

Constable

Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!


Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

We need order! Let’s go together, if we must die.

Orleans

We are enow yet living in the field


To smother up the English in our throngs,


If any order might be thought upon.

We are not enough to take England, if you want to talk about order.

Bourbon

The devil take order now! I'll to the throng.


Let life be short, else shame will be too long.

To hell with order, now! I’ll go into battle. Let life be short or shame will be too long.

Exit.

Trumpets sound. Enter King Henry and forces, Exeter, and others.

King

Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen.


But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.

We have done well, my valiant countrymen. But, we are not finished with the French still on the field.

Exeter

The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.

The Duke of York wanted me to send you his regards.

King

Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour


I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting.


From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

He is still alive, good uncle? I saw him three times within the hour. He was down, then up and fighting again. He was covered from head to toe in blood.

Exeter

In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,


Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,


Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,


The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.


Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over,


Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,


And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes


That bloodily did yawn upon his face.


He cries aloud, "Tarry, my cousin Suffolk!


My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;


Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,


As in this glorious and well-foughten field


We kept together in our chivalry."


Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up.


He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,


And, with a feeble gripe, says, "Dear my lord,


Commend my service to my sovereign."


So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck


He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;


And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd


A testament of noble-ending love.


The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd


Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;


But I had not so much of man in me,


And all my mother came into mine eyes


And gave me up to tears.

The brave soldier lies wounded in the field beside the noble Earl of Suffolk. As Suffolk died, York went over and took him by the beard and kissed his cuts and cried, “Wait, dear cousin Suffolk? My soul will keep yours company on the way to heaven. Wait, sweet soul, we will fly as we fought, side-by-side.” I went to him while he was talking to cheer him up. He smiled at me and took my hand and with a feeble grip said, “Commend me to the king.” Then he turned and threw his wounded arm over Suffolk’s neck and kissed his lips. With noble love, his life ended. I couldn’t help but cry.

King

I blame you not;


For, hearing this, I must perforce compound


With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

I don’t blame you, because after hearing this I must hold my tears back.

Trumpet sounds.

But hark! what new alarum is this same?


The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men.


Then every soldier kill his prisoners;


Give the word through.

Listen! What new alarm is this? The French have brought in reinforcements. Let our men kill their prisoners. Go tell them.

Exit.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Fluellen

Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the


law of arms. 'Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offer't; in your conscience, now, is it not?

They killed the boys with the luggage? It’s against the law or war. I think it’s villainous. Don’t you?

Gower

'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter.


Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the King's tent; wherefore the King, most worthily, hath caus'd every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

It’s certain no boy is left alive and the cowards that ran from the battle performed the slaughter. They also burned and carried away all that was in the king’s tent, so the king’s called for all prisoners to be executed. He’s such a gallant king!

Fluellen

Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you


the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born?

Yes, he was born at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What’s the name of the where Alexander the Pig was born?

Gower

Alexander the Great.

Alexander the Great.

Fluellen

Why, I pray you, is not pig great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.

Isn’t that the same thing?

Gower

I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

I think he was born in Macedon. His father was Philip of Macedon, I think.

Fluellen

I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is call'd Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus.

I think it is Macedon. Macedon and Monmouth are very similar if you look at a map. They both have rivers. Wye river is in Monmouth, but I can’t remember what the other river is. If you compare Alexander’s and Harry’s lives, they are not very different. God knows, you know, in his anger and bad moods, along with ale, Alexander killed his best friend, Cleitus.

Gower

Our King is not like him in that. He never kill'd any of


his friends.

Our king is not like him in that. He never killed any of his friends.

Fluellen

It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out


of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it. As Alexander kill'd his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgements, turn'd away the fat knight with the great belly doublet. He was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.

It’s not nice to take think you know what I’m saying before I finish. I’m only comparing the two. Alexander, drunk and angry, killed his friend Cleitus, like Harry, smart and wise, turned away that fat knight who was full of jokes and mischief. I have forgotten his name.

Gower

Sir John Falstaff.

Sir John Falstaff.

Fluellen

That is he. I'll tell you there is good men porn at Monmouth.

That’s him. There are good men born at Monmouth, I’ll tell you.

Gower

Here comes his Majesty.

Here comes his majesty.

Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, and forces; Warwick, Gloucester, Exeter, and others.

King

I was not angry since I came to France


Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;


Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill.


If they will fight with us, bid them come down,


Or void the field; they do offend our sight.


If they'll do neither, we will come to them,


And make them skirr away, as swift as stones


Enforced from the old Assyrian slings.


Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,


And not a man of them that we shall take


Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.

I was not angry when I came to France, until now. Take a trumpet and herald and ride up to the horseman on the hill, and tell them if they want fight, bring it on, or get away from the field. If they won’t do either, we will go to them, and make them run as swift as stones thrown from Assyrian slings. In addition, tell them we’re going to execute the men we have. No Frenchmen will have mercy. Go tell them.

Enter Montjoy.

Exeter

Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.

Here comes the herald of the French, my king.

Gloucester

His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.

He looks more humble than before.