The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (241 page)

A plague upon them! Why should I curse them?

 If curses could kill them, like the shriek of the mandrake,

I would invent the most bitter curses ever

uttered, as harsh and horrible to hear,

spat through my gritted teeth,

with as many indicators of deadly hate

as hollow cheeked envy in her horrible cave.

My tongue would stumble over the strength of my words;

my eyes would sparkle like kindled flints;

my hair would stand on end, like a madman;

yes, every joint would seem to curse them;

and my heavy heart would break in two

if I did not curse them. May they drink poison!

May everything they taste be the bitterest thing imaginable!

May their only shade be a grove of cypress trees!

May all they see be murdering basilisks!

May the softest thing that touches them sting like a lizard!

May their music be as terrible as the hiss of a serpent,

and foreboding screech owls make up the orchestra!

All the foul terrors in the depths of hell–

QUEEN.

Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;

And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,

Or like an overcharged gun, recoil

And turns the force of them upon thyself.

Enough, sweet Suffolk; you're torturing yourself;

and these terrible curses, like the sun on glass,

or like an overloaded gun, recoil

and turns the force of them back on yourself.

SUFFOLK.

You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,

Well could I curse away a winter's night,

Though standing naked on a mountain top

Where biting cold would never let grass grow,

And think it but a minute spent in sport.

You told me to curse, and now you're telling me to stop?

Now, by the country that I am banished from,

I could spend a whole winter's night cursing,

even if I was standing naked on a mountaintop

where biting cold never lets the grass grow,

and think that it was just a minute of fun.

QUEEN.

O, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand,

That I may dew it with my mournful tears;

Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,

To wash away my woeful monuments.

O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,

That thou mightest think upon these by the seal,

Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!

So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;

'T is but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,

As one that surfeits thinking on a want.

I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,

Adventure to be banished myself;

And banished I am, if but from thee.

Go; speak not to me, even now be gone.--

O, go not yet!--Even thus two friends condemn'd

Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,

Loather a hundred times to part than die.

Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!

O, let me beg you to stop. Give me your hand,

so I can cover it with my mournful tears;

don't let the rain from heaven wet this place,

to wash away my sad keepsakes.

Oh, I wish this kiss could be printed on your hand,

so that you could think of these as being a seal

through which a thousand sighs are breathed for you!

So, go, so that I know what my sadness is like;

I can only imagine it while you are still here,

like someone who becomes full thinking of their hunger.

I will have your sentence reversed, or, I promise you,

I will get myself exiled;

and I am exiled, if I am separated from you.

Go, don't speak to me, just go.

O, don't go! This is how to friends condemned to death

would embrace and kiss and say goodbye ten thousand times,

a hundred times more unwilling to part than to die.

But now farewell; and as you go farewell to life!

SUFFOLK.

Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished;

Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.

'T is not the land I care for, wert thou thence;

A wilderness is populous enough,

So Suffolk had thy heavenly company;

For where thou art, there is the world itself,

With every several pleasure in the world,

And where thou art not, desolation.

I can no more; live thou to joy thy life,

Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st.

So poor Suffolk is exiled ten times;

once by the King, and nine times by you.

I don't care about the country, if you were with me;

a wilderness would have enough company,

if Suffolk had you with him;

for where you are, that is where the world is,

and every pleasure in the world,

and where you are not, everything is empty.

I can't say any more; may you live in happiness,

I will have no joy except for the thought that you are alive.

[Enter VAUX.]

QUEEN.

Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I prithee?

Where is Vaux going so fast? What news have you?

VAUX.

To signify unto his majesty

That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;

For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,

That makes him gasp and stare and catch the air,

Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth.

Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost

Were by his side, sometime he calls the king

And whispers to his pillow as to him

The secrets of his overcharged soul;

And I am sent to tell his majesty

That even now he cries aloud for him.

I have to tell his Majesty

that Cardinal Beaufort is almost dead;

a sudden terrible sickness took hold of him,

that makes him gasp and stare and pant,

blaspheming against God and cursing men on earth.

Sometimes he talks as if the ghost of Duke Humphrey

were at his side, sometimes he calls the King

and whispers to his pillow as if it was him,

telling him the secrets of his burdened soul;

and I have been sent to tell his Majesty

that at this very moment he is crying aloud for him.

QUEEN.

Go tell this heavy message to the king.--

[Exit Vaux.]

Ay me! what is this world! what news are these!

But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,

Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?

Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,

And with the southern clouds contend in tears,

Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows?

Now get thee hence.

The king, thou know'st, is coming;

If thou be found by me; thou art but dead.

Go and take this sad message to the King.

Alas! What a world this is! What news this is!

But why do I grieve for a poor hour's loss,

leaving out the exile of Suffolk, the treasure of my soul?

Why do I not just mourn for you, Suffolk,

and compete with the southern clouds with my tears,

theirs which grow things on earth, mine which grow my sorrows?

Now go.

You know the King is coming;

if you are found with me, you are dead.

SUFFOLK.

If I depart from thee, I cannot live;

And in thy sight to die, what were it else

But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?

Here could I breathe my soul into the air,

As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe

Dying with mother's dug between its lips;

Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad

And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,

To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth.

So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,

Or I should breathe it so into thy body,

And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.

To die by thee were but to die in jest;

From thee to die were torture more than death.

O, let me stay, befall what may befall!

If I leave you, I cannot live;

if I died looking at you, what would it be like

apart from a pleasant sleep in your lap?

I could breathe my last breath here,

as mild and calm as a newborn baby

dying with its mother's breast in its lips;

if I was away from you, I would be raging mad

and cry out for you to close my eyes,

to have you shut my lips with your mouth,

so you could either bring back my fleeing soul,

or I could breathe it into your body,

and so it would then live in a sweet heaven.

To die next to you would to die a happy death;

to die away from you would be a fate worse than death.

Oh let me stay, whatever happens!

QUEEN.

Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, sweet Suffolk; let me hear from thee,

For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe

I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

Go! Although parting stings horribly,

it is like medicine on a deadly wound.

Go to France, sweet Suffolk; let me hear from you,

for wherever you go in the world

my messengers shall seek you out.

SUFFOLK.

I go.

I'm going.

QUEEN.

And take my heart with thee.

And take my heart with you.

SUFFOLK.

A jewel, lock'd into the wofull'st cask

That ever did contain a thing of worth.

Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;

This way fall I to death.

It is a jewel, locked in the shabbiest case

that ever contained a valuable thing.

So we part like a split tree;

I am going this way to death.

QUEEN.

This way for me.

And I go this way.

[Exeunt severally.]

[Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed.]