The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (312 page)

I'll tell you more.

Both

You may command us, sir.

We are both at your command, sir.

Exeunt

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH, her gentleman usher, and PATIENCE, her woman

GRIFFITH

How does your grace?

How is your grace?

KATHARINE

O Griffith, sick to death!

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,

Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair:

So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease.

Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,

That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, was dead?

O Griffin, I am sick to death!

My legs, like heavily laden branches, bow down to the earth,

wanting to shed their load. Pull up a chair:

there; now, I think, I feel a little better.

Didn't you tell me, Griffith, as you led me,

that the great honourable Cardinal Wolsey was dead?

GRIFFITH

Yes, madam; but I think your grace,

Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.

Yes, madam; but I thought your grace

had not heard me due to the pain you were suffering.

KATHARINE

Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:

If well, he stepp'd before me, happily

For my example.

Please, good Griffith, tell me how he died:

if he died well, he did better than me, perhaps

I could use him for an example.

GRIFFITH

Well, the voice goes, madam:

For after the stout Earl Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,

As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,

He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his mule.

Well, the rumour goes, madam,

that after the good Royal Northumberland

arrested him at York, and brought him down

for his trial as a badly suspected man

he suddenly fell sick, and became so ill

he could not sit on his mule.

KATHARINE

Alas, poor man!

Alas, poor man!

GRIFFITH

At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,

Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,

With all his covent, honourably received him;

To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,

An old man, broken with the storms of state,

Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;

Give him a little earth for charity!'

So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness

Pursued him still: and, three nights after this,

About the hour of eight, which he himself

Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,

Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,

He gave his honours to the world again,

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

At last, in small stages, he came to Leicester,

where he stayed in the Abbey; the reverend abbot,

with all his convent, received him honourably;

and he spoke these words to him, ‘Oh, father abbot,

an old man, broken by the storms of politics,

has come to lay down his weary bones amongst you;

be so kind as to give him a little place to be buried.’

So he went to bed; and his illness became

worse: and, three nights later,

about eight o'clock, the time which he himself

had predicted would see his end, full of repentance,

religious thoughts, tears and sorrows,

he gave his honours back to the world,

his soul to heaven, and slept in peace.

KATHARINE

So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,

And yet with charity. He was a man

Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking

Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion,

Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play;

His own opinion was his law: i' the presence

He would say untruths; and be ever double

Both in his words and meaning: he was never,

But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;

But his performance, as he is now, nothing:

Of his own body he was ill, and gave

The clergy in example.

And may he rest in peace; may his faults not punish him too much!

But let me say this about him, Griffith,

speaking kindly. He was a man

of unparalleled greed, who thought he was

as high as a prince; someone who through underhand methods

enslaved the whole kingdom: corruption was acceptable to him;

his own opinion was law: he would lie

in the presence of the King; and everything he said

had a double meaning: he never showed pity

except where he intended destruction:

his promises, like him, were mighty,

but as he is now they came to nothing:

he was physically depraved and set

a bad example for the clergy.

GRIFFITH

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues

We write in water. May it please your highness

To hear me speak his good now?

Noble madam,

the evil manners of men are engraved on brass,

their goodness is written on water. Would your Highness allow

me to speak well of him now?

KATHARINE

Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious else.

Yes, good Griffith;

otherwise I would be unkind.

GRIFFITH

This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;

Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:

Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;

But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.

And though he were unsatisfied in getting,

Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,

He was most princely: ever witness for him

Those twins Of learning that he raised in you,

Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,

Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;

The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,

So excellent in art, and still so rising,

That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.

His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;

For then, and not till then, he felt himself,

And found the blessedness of being little:

And, to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

This cardinal,

though from humble stock, was undoubtedly

marked out for honour. From birth

he was a scholar, and a very good one,

exceedingly wise, well spoken and persuasive:

he was haughty and sour to those who did not love him,

but to those men who wanted to be friends, he was sweet as summer.

And although he was certainly greedy

–which was a sin–but he was also princely in his

generosity: that will always be witnessed

by those two colleges he established,

at Ipswich and Oxford; one of them fell with him,

unwilling to outlive the goodness that built it,

the other, though unfinished, is already so famous,

so excellent in learning and still growing reputation,

that Christendom will forever speak of his goodness.

His downfall was a source of great happiness to him,

for then he realised who he was, as he never had before,

and found how blessed it is to be of no importance;

and to give him greater honour in his old age

than any man could give him, he died fearing God.

KATHARINE

After my death I wish no other herald,

No other speaker of my living actions,

To keep mine honour from corruption,

But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,

With thy religious truth and modesty,

Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!

Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:

I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,

Cause the musicians play me that sad note

I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating

On that celestial harmony I go to.

After my death I do not wish any other Herald,

nobody to speak about what I did in my life,

to keep my honour from corruption,

I just want an honest chronicler like Griffith.

You have made me, with your religious truth

and modesty, honour the ashes of the one whom I

most hated when he was alive: may he rest in peace!

Be patient, stay with me; let me lie down more:

I won't bother you for long. Good Griffith,

ask the musicians to play that sad tune

which I chose as my death knell, whilst I

contemplate the heavenly music I'll be hearing soon.

Sad and solemn music

GRIFFITH

She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.

She is asleep: good lady, let's sit down quietly

and make sure we don't wake her: quietly, gentle Patience.

The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which the other four make reverent curtsies; then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues

KATHARINE

Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone,

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Spirits of peace, where have you gone? Have you all gone,