The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (253 page)

rape a virgin,

steal the inheritance of an orphan,

take away the rights of a widow,

when he has no other excuse for his crimes

than that he was bound by a solemn oath?

QUEEN.

A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

A cunning traitor needs nobody to argue for him.

KING.

Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.

Call Buckingham, and tell him to arm himself.

YORK.

Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,

I am resolv'd for death or dignity.

Call Buckingham, and all the friends you have,

I shall have either death or the crown.

CLIFFORD.

The first I warrant thee if dreams prove true.

If dreams come true I promise you the first.

WARWICK.

You were best to go to bed and dream again,

To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

You'd better go to bed and dream again,

to stay away from the stormy battlefield.

CLIFFORD.

I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm

Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;

And that I'll write upon thy burgonet,

Might I but know thee by thy household badge.

I am strong enough to survive a greater storm

than any that you can create today;

and I shall prove that in beating on your head,

if I can identify you by your family crest.

WARWICK.

Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest,

The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,

This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,

As on a mountain top the cedar shows

That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,

Even to affright thee with the view thereof.

Now, my father's badge, old Nevil's crest,

a rampant bear chained to a ragged pole,

I shall wear today on my helmet,

just like a cedar tree on a mountaintop

which keeps its leaves no matter what the storm,

so I can terrify you when you see it.

CLIFFORD.

And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear

And tread it under foot with all contempt,

Despite the bear-herd that protects the bear.

And from your helmet I'll tear off your bear,

and contemptuously stamp on it,

despite the bear keeper which protects it.

YOUNG CLIFFORD.

And so to arms, victorious father,

To quell the rebels and their complices.

And so let's arm ourselves, victorious father,

to suppress the rebels and their accomplices.

RICHARD.

Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in spite,

For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.

Really! Show some manners! Don't speak spitefully,

for you shall be eating with Jesus Christ tonight.

YOUNG CLIFFORD.

Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst

tell.

You revolting cripple, that's more than you can say.

RICHARD.

If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.

If it's not in heaven, you'll definitely be eating in hell.

[Exeunt severally.]

[Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK.]

WARWICK.

Clifford of Cumberland, 't is Warwick calls;

And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,

Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum

And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,

Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me!

Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,

Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.--\

[Enter YORK.]

How now, my noble lord! what, all afoot?

Clifford of Cumberland, this is Warwick calling you;

and if you are not hiding from the bear,

now, when the angry trumpet sounds the charge,

and the cries of dead men fill the empty air,

Clifford, I say, come out and find me!

Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,

Warwick's voice is worn out with challenging you–

What's this, my noble Lord! Why are you on foot?

YORK.

The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed,

But match to match I have encount'red him,

And made a prey for carrion kites and crows

Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.

The deadly Clifford killed my horse,

but I have matched him blow for blow,

and the handsome animal he loved so much

is now prey for the carrion birds.

[Enter old CLIFFORD.]

WARWICK.

Of one or both of us the time is come.

One or both of us is going to die.

YORK.

Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,

For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

Wait, Warwick, go and hunt something else,

I must finish this one myself.

WARWICK.

Then, nobly, York; 't is for a crown thou fight'st.--

As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,

It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

Then do it nobly, York; you're fighting for a Crown.

Clifford, I swear as I intend to do well today,

I'm deeply sorry not to attack you.

[Exit.]

CLIFFORD.

What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause?

What can you see in me, York? Why are you waiting?

YORK.

With thy brave bearing should I be in love

But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

You are so noble I would be very fond of you

if you were not so determined to be my enemy.

CLIFFORD.

Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem

But that 't is shown ignobly and in treason.

And your great abilities would be praised and valued by me,

if they weren't being used for ignoble and treasonous purposes.

YORK.

So let it help me now against thy sword

As I in justice and true right express it!

May my powers now help me against your sword,

as I am using them for justice and to claim my true rights!

CLIFFORD.

My soul and body on the action both!

I commit both my soul and my body to this action!

YORK.

A dreadful lay!--Address thee instantly.

A dreadful bet! Come on guard at once!

[They fight, and Clifford falls.]

CLIFFORD.

La fin couronne les oeuvres.

This is the end of everything.

[Dies.]

YORK.

Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.

Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!

So war has brought you peace, for you are lying still.

Heaven, give his soul peace, if that is your will!

[Exit.]

[Enter young CLIFFORD.]

YOUNG CLIFFORD.

Shame and confusion! all is on the rout;

Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds

Where it should guard.--O war, thou son of hell,

Whom angry heavens do make their minister,

Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part

Hot coals of vengeance!--Let no soldier fly.

He that is truly dedicate to war

Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself

Hath not essentially but by circumstance

The name of valour.--[Seeing his dead father.]

O, let the vile world end,

And the premised flames of the last day

Knit earth and heaven together!

Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,

Particularities and petty sounds

To cease!--Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,

To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve

The silver livery of advised age,

And in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus

To die in ruffian battle?--Even at this sight

My heart is turn'd to stone; and while 't is mine

It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;

No more will I their babes; tears virginal

Shall be to me even as the dew to fire,

And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims

Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.

Henceforth I will not have to do with pity;

Meet I an infant of the house of York,

Into as many gobbets will I cut it

As wild Medea young Absyrtus did.

In cruelty will I seek out my fame.--

Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:

As did Aeneas old Anchises bear,

So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;

But then Aeneas bare a living load,

Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

Shame and confusion! Everyone is scattered:

fear has driven out discipline, and that now causes harm

where it should have been our defence. War, you son of hell,

who the angry heavens use as their agent,

throw into the frozen hearts of our side

hot coals of revenge! Don't let any soldier retreat.

Someone who truly dedicates himself to war

has no love for himself; someone who loves himself

is not really brave, only becomes so through

circumstances. O, let the horrible world end,

and the predestined flames of the last day

join heaven and earth together;

let the trumpet blow for everyone,

individual affairs and petty noises

must cease! Were you predestined, dear father,

to spend your youth in peace, and to reach

the silver haired heights of wise old age,

and in what should have been your respected retirement,

to die in a rough battle? This sight

turns my heart to stone: and while I am still alive,

it shall be stony. York does not spare our old men;

I shall not spare their babies: the tears of virgins

will be like dew on a fire to me;

and beauty, which often manages to calm the tyrant,