The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (224 page)

What, is't too short?  I'll lengthen it with mine,

And, having both together heav'd it up,

We'll both together lift our heads to heaven,

And never more abase our sight so low

As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

Why does my lord hang his head like corn

bowed down by the heavy weight of his overripe ears?

Why does the great Duke Humphrey furrow his brow,

as if frowning at the beauties of the world?

Why are your eyes so downcast,

looking at something which seems to bring you tears?

What can you see there? King Henry's crown,

in grave with all the titles of the world?

If so, keep looking, keep frowning,

until you have that crown on your head.

Put out your hand, reach for the glorious gold.

What, you can't reach? Let me help you,

and, having picked it up together,

we shall both lift our heads up to heaven,

and never again let our sight drop so low

that we have to even look once at the ground.

GLOSTER.

O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,

Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts;

And may that thought when I imagine ill

Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,

Be my last breathing in this mortal world!

My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.

Oh Nell, sweet Nell, if you love your lord,

never allow yourself such ambitious thoughts;

and if I ever think of doing harm

to my King and nephew, good Henry,

may that be my last living thought!

It's the bad dreams I've had tonight which make me sad.

DUCHESS.

What dream'd my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it

With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

What did my lord dream of? Tell me, and I'll repay you

by telling you about the sweet dream I had this morning.

GLOSTER.

Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court,

Was broke in twain;--by whom I have forgot,

But, as I think, it was by the cardinal,--

And on the pieces of the broken wand

Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset

And William de la Pole, first duke of Suffolk.

This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.

I dreamt this staff, the symbol of my position at court,

was broken in half; I have forgotten by whom,

but I imagine it was by the Cardinal–

and on the pieces of the broken stick

they placed the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset

and William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk.

That's what I dreamt; what it means, God knows.

DUCHESS.

Tut, this was nothing but an argument

That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove

Shall lose his head for his presumption.

But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:

Methought I sat in seat of majesty

In the cathedral church of Westminster

And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd,

Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me

And on my head did set the diadem.

Tut, all this was doing was showing

that someone who breaks a stick of Gloucester's

will lose his head for his arrogance.

But listen to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke:

I thought I sat on the throne

in the cathedral church at Westminster,

in the throne where kings and queens are crowned,

and Henry and Lady Margaret kneeled to me

and put the crown on my head.

GLOSTER.

Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright.

Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor,

Art thou not second woman in the realm,

And the protector's wife, belov'd of him?

Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,

Above the reach or compass of thy thought?

And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,

To tumble down thy husband and thyself

From top of honour to disgrace's feet?

Away from me, and let me hear no more!

No, Eleanor, then I must openly admonish you.

You arrogant lady, badly raised Eleanor,

aren't you the second lady of the country,

and the wife of the Regent, loved by him?

Don't you have every pleasure you

could want, more than you could think of?

And you still want to think of treachery,

to throw your husband and yourself from

the highest position to the lowest disgrace?

Get out, and don't let me hear this again!

DUCHESS.

What, what, my lord! are you so choleric

With Eleanor for telling but her dream?

Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself,

And not be check'd.

What's this is my lord! Are you so angry

with Eleanor for just telling you her dream?

Next time I'll keep my dreams to myself,

and not be criticised.

GLOSTER.

Nay, be not angry; I am pleas'd again.

No, don't be angry; I'm happy with you again.

[Enter Messenger.]

MESSENGER.

My lord protector, 't is his highness' pleasure

You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's,

Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.

My lord protector, it's his Highness' wish

that you should prepare to ride to St Albans,

where the king and queen mean to go hawking.

GLOSTER.

I go.--Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?

I'm coming. Come, Nell, will you ride with us?

DUCHESS.

Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.

[Exeunt Gloster and Messenger.]

Follow I must; I cannot go before

While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,

I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks

And smooth my way upon their headless necks;

And, being a woman, I will not be slack

To play my part in Fortune's pageant.--

Where are you there?  Sir John! nay, fear not, man,

We are alone; here's none but thee and I.

Yes, my good lord, I'll follow at once.

I must be a follower; I can't lead

while Gloucester still thinks in this low-down way.

If I were a man, a Duke, and next in line to the throne,

I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks,

and climb to the throne on their headless necks;

and, being a woman, I won't fail

to play my part in the games of fate.

Where are you? Sir John! No, don't be afraid, man,

we're alone; there's no one here but you and me.

[Enter HUME.]

HUME.

Jesus preserve your royal majesty!

Jesus save your royal majesty!

DUCHESS.

What say'st thou? majesty!  I am but grace.

What are you saying? Majesty! I'm just a duchess.

HUME.

But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,

Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Yes, but by the grace of God, and with Hume's advice,

your Grace will get far greater titles.

DUCHESS.

What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd

With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,

With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?

And will they undertake to do me good?

What are you saying, man? Have you yet spoken

to Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,

and Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?

Will they work for me?

HUME.

This they have promised,--to show your highness

A spirit rais'd from depth of underground,

That shall make answer to such questions

As by your Grace shall be propounded him.

They have promised to show your Highness

a spirit raised from the depths of hell,

who will answer any questions

your Grace wants to ask him.

DUCHESS.

It is enough; I'll think upon the questions.

When from Saint Alban's we do make return,

We'll see these things effected to the full.

Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,

With thy confederates in this weighty cause.

That's good, I'll think of some questions.

When we come back from St Albans,

we shall carry these things out.

Here, Hume, take this reward; have a good time, man,

with your accomplices in this great business.

[Exit.]

HUME.

Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold,

Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume!

Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum;

The business asketh silent secrecy.

Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch;

Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.

Yet have I gold flies from another coast.

I dare not say, from the rich cardinal

And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk,

Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain,

They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour,

Have hired me to undermine the duchess

And buzz these conjurations in her brain.

They say ' A crafty knave does need no broker;'

Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker.

Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near

To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.

Well, so its stands; and thus, I fear, at last

Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack,

And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall.

Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.

Hume must have a good time with the Duchess' gold,

and he certainly shall. But, watch out, Sir John Hume!

Close up your lips, keep silent;

this business demands silence and secrecy.

Dame Eleanor gave me gold to bring the witch;

gold is always good, if she was a devil.

But I have gold coming from another direction.

I wouldn't dare say it comes from the rich Cardinal

and from the great newly created Duke of Suffolk,

but it does; for, to put it plainly,

they, knowing of Dame Eleanor's ambitions,

have hired me to undermine the Duchess

and get her thinking about this magic.

They say, “A crafty scoundrel doesn't need an agent;"

but I am agent to Suffolk and the Cardinal.

Hume, if you're not careful, you are just about

to call them both the parents crafty scoundrels.

Well, that's how it is; and, I fear that in the end

my plotting will be the ruin of the Duchess,

and the stain on her will bring down Humphrey.

However it turns out, I'll be paid for it.

[Exit.]