The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (242 page)

KING.

How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

How is my Lord? Speak, Beaufort, to your sovereign.

CARDINAL.

If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island,

So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.

If you are death, I'll give you all the wealth of England,

enough to buy another island like it,

if you will let me live without pain.

KING.

Ah, what a sign it is of evil life

Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

Alas, what a sign of an evil life it is

to be so frightened of death!

WARWICK.

Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

Beaufort, it's your sovereign speaking to you.

CARDINAL.

Bring me unto my trial when you will.

Died he not in his bed? where should he die?

Can I make men live, whether they will or no?

O, torture me no more! I will confess.--

Alive again? then show me where he is;

I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.

He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.

Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,

Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul.--

Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary

Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

Put me on trial when you want.

Didn't he die in his bed? Where should he die?

Can I keep men alive, whether they want to live or not?

Oh, don't torture me any more! I will confess–

he's alive again? Then show me where he is;

I'll give a thousand pounds to look at him.

He has no eyes, they're blinded by the dust.

Comb down his hair; look, look! It's standing straight up,

like lime twigs made into a trap for the bird of my soul.

Bring me a drink; and tell the chemist

to bring the strong poison that I bought from him.

KING.

O Thou eternal Mover of the Heavens,

Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!

O, beat away the busy meddling fiend

That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,

And from his bosom purge this black despair!

Oh you great mover of the heavens,

look pityingly on this wretch!

Oh, fight off the interfering devil

who is laying a strong siege to his soul,

and wash out this black despair from his heart!

WARWICK.

See how the pangs of death do make him grin!

See how the agonies of death make him grin!

SALISBURY.

Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.

Don't serve him; let him go in peace.

KING.

Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!--

Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,

Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.--

He dies, and makes no sign.--O God, forgive him!

Peace on his soul, if good God decrees it!

Lord Cardinal, if you're thinking of the happiness in heaven,

hold up your hand, show your hopes.

He's died, and made no sign. Oh God, forgive him!

WARWICK.

So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

Such a bad death would seem to indicate a terrible life.

KING HENRY.

Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.--

Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;

And let us all to meditation.

Refrain from judging, for we are all sinners.

Close his eyes can draw the curtains;

let us all go to our prayers.

[Exeunt.]

[Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a Captain,

a Master, a Master's Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and

others; with them SUFFOLK, and others, prisoners.]

CAPTAIN.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day

Is crept into the bosom of the sea;

And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades

That drag the tragic melancholy night,

Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings,

Clip dead men's graves and from their misty jaws

Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize;

For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,

Here shall they make their ransom on the sand

Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.--

Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;--

And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;--

The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

This bright, revealing and sorrowful day

has sunk into the sea;

and now the loud howls of the wolves awake the nags

that drag in the tragic sorrowful night,

who, with their sleepy, slow and exhausted wings,

tear open dead men's graves and from their misty jaws

breathe foul infectious darkness into the air.

So bring out the soldiers from our captured ship;

for, while our ship anchors in the Downs

they shall pay their ransom on the beach

or their blood will stain this discoloured shore.

Master, I give you this prisoner freely;

and you, his mate, you take your profit from this one;

the other is your share, Walter Whitmore.

1 GENTLEMAN.

What is my ransom, master? let me know.

What price do you want from me, master? Tell me.

MASTER.

A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

A thousand crowns, or else your life.

MATE.

And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

And the same for you, or you lose yours as well.

CAPTAIN.

What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,

And bear the name and port of gentlemen?--

Cut both the villains' throats;--for die you shall.

The lives of those which we have lost in fight

Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum!

What, do you think that two thousand pounds is too high a price,

when you have the name and bearing of gentlemen? You shall die.

The lives of those we have lost in the fight

must be balanced by this paltry sum.

1 GENTLEMAN.

I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

I'll pay it, sir; and so spare my life.

2 GENTLEMAN.

And so will I, and write home for it straight.

And so will I, I'll write home for it at once.

WHITMORE.

I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,--

[To Suffolk] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;--

And so should these, if I might have my will.

I lost my eye in capturing the ship,

[to Suffolk] and so, for revenge, you shall die;

and so would these, if I have my way.

CAPTAIN.

Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.

Don't be so hasty; take the ransom, let him live.

SUFFOLK.

Look on my George; I am a gentleman.

Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

Look at my badge; I am a gentleman.

Charge what you want for me, you will be paid.

WHITMORE.

And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.

How now! why start'st thou? What, doth death affright?

And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.

What's this! Why did you jump? What, are you afraid of death?

SUFFOLK.

Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.

A cunning man did calculate my birth

And told me that by water I should die.

Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;

Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded.

Your name frightens me, it sounds like death.

A clever man wrote my horoscope

and told me that I would die by drowning.

But don't make this a reason for killing me;

your name is Gaultier, correctly pronounced.

WHITMORE.

Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not.

Never yet did base dishonour blur our name

But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;

Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,

Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,

And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!

Gaultier or Walter, I don't care which it is.

But never has low dishonour insulted my name

without me wiping the stain away with my sword;

so, if I ever sell my revenge like a shopkeeper,

let my soul be broken, my coat of arms torn and vandalised:

and have me announced as a coward throughout the world.

SUFFOLK.

Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,

The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Wait, Whitmore; your prisoner is a Prince,

the Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

WHITMORE.

The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags!

The Duke of Suffolk wrapped up in rags!

SUFFOLK.

Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke;

Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?

Yes, but these rags are not part of the Duke;