The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (51 page)

KING RICHARD.

Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be;

Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.

Now mark me how I will undo myself:

I give this heavy weight from off my head,

And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,

The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;

With mine own tears I wash away my balm,

With mine own hands I give away my crown,

With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,

With mine own breath release all duteous oaths;

All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

My manors, rents, revenues, I forgo;

My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny.

God pardon all oaths that are broke to me!

God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee!

Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd,

And thou with all pleas'd, that hast an achiev'd.

Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit.

God save King Henry, unking'd Richard says,

And send him many years of sunshine days!

What more remains?

Yes, no; no, yes; for I must be nothing;

therefore no ' no', for I resign to you.

Now, see how I undermine myself.

I give you this heavy weight from off my head,

and this clumsy sceptre from my hand,

the pride of royal power from out of my heart;

I wash away the anointing oil with my tears,

with my own hands I give you my crown,

with my own tongue I reject my holy position,

with my own breath I release all who have sworn oaths to me;

I give up all ceremony and majesty;

I give up my manors, rents and revenues;

I reject all my acts, decrees and statutes.

May God pardon all the promises to me that have been broken,

and keep all the promises that are made to you unbroken!

Make me, who has nothing, be grieved with nothing,

and may you who has won everything be pleased with everything.

May you live long sitting in Richard's seat,

and soon bury Richard in his grave.

God save King Henry, no longer king Richard says,

and give him many years of sunny days!

What is left?

NORTHUMBERLAND.

No more; but that you read

These accusations, and these grievous crimes

Committed by your person and your followers

Against the state and profit of this land;

That, by confessing them, the souls of men

May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

That's enough; all you need to do now is read out

these accusations, these grievous crimes

committed by you and your followers

against the state and best interest of this land;

so that men, hearing you confess to them

can judge that you are rightly overthrown.

KING RICHARD.

Must I do so? And must I ravel out

My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,

If thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop

To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,

There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

Containing the deposing of a king

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,

Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven.

Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me

Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,

Showing an outward pity-yet you Pilates

Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,

And water cannot wash away your sin.

Do I have to? And must I unravel

all my intertwined foolishness? Sweet Northumberland,

if everything you've done wrong was written down,

wouldn't you be ashamed to read them out

in such fair company? If you did

you would find one awful item there

concerning the overthrow of a king

and the breaking of a strong oath,

marked with a blot, damned in the book of heaven.

No, all of you who stand looking at me

as I am tormented with my wretchedness,

although some of you, like Pilate, wash your hands

and pretend to show pity–yet you Pilates

have delivered me to my bitter cross,

and water cannot wash away your sins.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

My lord, dispatch; read o'er these

articles.

My Lord, get it over with; read these articles.

KING RICHARD.

Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see.

And yet salt water blinds them not so much

But they can see a sort of traitors here.

Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,

I find myself a traitor with the rest;

For I have given here my soul's consent

T'undeck the pompous body of a king;

Made glory base, and sovereignty a slave,

Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.

My eyes are full of tears; I cannot see.

And yet the salt water does not make them so blind

that they cannot see this group of traitors here.

No, if I take a look at myself

I find I am a traitor with the rest of them;

for I have here given my agreement

to take away the ceremonial robes of a king;

I have made glory low, and royalty a slave,

proud majesty a subject, my state a peasant.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

My lord-

My lord–

KING RICHARD.

No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no tide-

No, not that name was given me at the font-

But 'tis usurp'd. Alack the heavy day,

That I have worn so many winters out,

And know not now what name to call myself!

O that I were a mockery king of snow,

Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke

To melt myself away in water drops!

Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,

An if my word be sterling yet in England,

Let it command a mirror hither straight,

That it may show me what a face I have

Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

No lord of yours, you haughty insulting man;

no man's lord. I have no name, no title;

no, not even that name that was given to me at my christening,

it has been stolen. What a terrible thing,

that I have reached such an age

and now don't know what name to call myself!

I wish I was a fake king made of snow,

standing under the sun of Bolingbroke,

so that I could melt away in drops of water!

Good King, great King, though not greatly good,

if my words still have any power in England,

let me order a mirror to be brought here at once,

so it can show me what my face looks like

now it has lost its majesty.

BOLINGBROKE.

Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass.

Some of you go and fetch a looking glass.

 Exit an attendant

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come.

Read out this paper while we're waiting for the mirror.

KING RICHARD.

Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell.

You devil, you torture me before I get to hell.

BOLINGBROKE.

Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.

Stop asking him, my Lord Northumberland.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

The Commons will not, then, be satisfied.

The Commons will not be satisfied if he doesn't read it.

KING RICHARD.

They shall be satisfied. I'll read enough,

When I do see the very book indeed

Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

Re-enter attendant with glass

Give me that glass, and therein will I read.

No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck

So many blows upon this face of mine

And made no deeper wounds? O flatt'ring glass,

Like to my followers in prosperity,

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face

That every day under his household roof

Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face

That like the sun did make beholders wink?

Is this the face which fac'd so many follies

That was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?

A brittle glory shineth in this face;

As brittle as the glory is the face;

[Dashes the glass against the ground]

For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport-

How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.

They will be satisfied. I will read enough

when I have seen the very book

where my sins are written, and that is my face.

Give me that mirror, and I will read from it.

No deeper wrinkles yet? Has sorrow struck

so many blows upon my face

and not made deeper wounds? Oh flattering glass,

like my followers when I was fortunate,

you are deceiving me. Was this the face

that managed to keep ten thousand men as part

of his household? Was this the face

that made onlookers squint as if looking at the sun?

Is this the face which committed so many follies

and was at last stared down by Bolingbroke?

There is a brittle glory shining in this face;

this face is as brittle as glory,

for there it is, smashed into a hundred splinters.

Make a note, silent King, of the moral of this–

see how quickly my sorrow destroyed my face.

BOLINGBROKE.

The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd

The shadow of your face.

The imitation of your sorrow has destroyed

the imitation of your face.

KING RICHARD.

Say that again.

The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see.

'Tis very true: my grief lies all within;

And these external manner of laments

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief

That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.

There lies the substance; and I thank thee, king,

For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st

Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way

How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,

And then be gone and trouble you no more.

Shall I obtain it?

Say that again.

The imitation of my sorrow? Hah! Let's see.

It's very true: all my sorrow is within;

all these external laments

are just imitations of the unseen sorrow

that swells in silence inside the tortured soul.

There is the substance of it; and I thank you, King,

for your great gift, not only giving me

reason to be sad, but showing me the way

to mourn for it. I'll ask you one favour,

and then I shall be gone and give you no more trouble.