The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (59 page)

London. A street

Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF RICHARD, solus

RICHARD.

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front,

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I-that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass-

I-that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph-

I-that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time

Into this breathing world scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them-

Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun

And descant on mine own deformity.

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,

To set my brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate the one against the other;

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up-

About a prophecy which says that G

Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes.

Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY

Brother, good day. What means this armed guard

That waits upon your Grace?

Now this miserable time

has been made wonderful by Edward;

and all the clouds that were hanging over our family

have sunk back into the sea.

Now our foreheads carry victorious wreaths,

our battered weapons are hung up as memorials,

great chaos has been changed to pleasant greetings,

grim marches to delightful music.

The terrible face of war has been smoothed over:

and now, instead of mounting armoured horses

to terrify his fearful enemies,

he dances lightly in a lady's bedroom

to the sexy music of a lute.

But I was not made for those flirtatious games,

or to look in the mirror of love;

I am poorly made and don't have the

wherewithal to dance in front of a amorously inclined lass:

I, who haven't been given the correct proportions,

who has been cheated of looks by deceitful Nature,

deformed, unfinished, sent into the world only

half made, before my time–

and I am so lame and unfashionable

that dogs bark at me if I stopnear them–

why, I, in this time of songs of peace,

have no pleasure to pass away the time,

unless it is to see my shadow on the ground,

and sing a song about my own deformities.

And therefore, since I cannot be a lover

to suit these pleasant days,

I am determined I will be a villain,

and despise the idle pleasures of others.

I have constructed a plot, with a dangerous beginning,

through drunken prophesies, lies, and dreams,

to make my brother Clarence and the King

develop a deadly hatred for each other:

and if King Edward is as true and just

as I am cunning, lying, and treacherous,

then today Clarence should be imprisoned

due to a prophecy, which says that ‘G’

will murder Edward's heirs–

I will bury my thoughts deep in my soul: here comes Clarence.

Good day, brother; why are you accompanied

by this armed guard?

CLARENCE.

His Majesty,

Tend'ring my person's safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to th' Tower.

His Majesty,

out of concern for my safety, has appointed

this escort to take me to the Tower.

RICHARD.

Upon what cause?

For what reason?

CLARENCE.

Because my name is George.

Because my name is George.

RICHARD.

Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours:

He should, for that, commit your godfathers.

O, belike his Majesty hath some intent

That you should be new-christ'ned in the Tower.

But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know?

Alas, my lord, that's no fault of yours:

he should imprison your godfathers for that.

Perhaps his Majesty has some plan

for you to be newly christened in the Tower.

But what's the problem, Clarence? May I know?

CLARENCE.

Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest

As yet I do not; but, as I can learn,

He hearkens after prophecies and dreams,

And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,

And says a wizard told him that by G

His issue disinherited should be;

And, for my name of George begins with G,

It follows in his thought that I am he.

These, as I learn, and such like toys as these

Hath mov'd his Highness to commit me now.

You shall know, Richard, when I do; for I tell you

that at the moment I don't; all I can discover is that

he has been listening to prophecies and dreams,

and out of the alphabet he has picked the letter G,

and says that a wizard told him that G

would disinherit his children;

and, as my name George begins with G,

he thinks that I must be that person.

It's this, and things like this, so I hear,

that has made his Highness imprison me now.

RICHARD.

Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women:

'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower;

My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she

That tempers him to this extremity.

Was it not she and that good man of worship,

Antony Woodville, her brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is delivered?

We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

Why, this is what happens when men are ruled by women:

it's not the king who's sending you to the Tower;

it's his wife, Lady Grey, Clarence, it's her

who has encouraged this absurdity.

Wasn't it her and that good holy man,

Antony Woodville, her brother,

that made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

from which he was released today?

We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE.

By heaven, I think there is no man is secure

But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds

That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore.

Heard you not what an humble suppliant

Lord Hastings was to her, for her delivery?

By heaven, I don't think anyone's safe

apart from the Queen's family and the nightly messengers

who go between the King and Mistress Shore.

Haven't you heard how humbly Lord Hastings

begged her for her forgiveness?

RICHARD.

Humbly complaining to her deity

Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.

I'll tell you what-I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the King,

To be her men and wear her livery:

The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,

Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

Humbly begging to her

got the Lord Chamberlain his freedom.

I tell you what, I think the best way for us

to keep the goodwill of the King

is to put ourselves at her service:

the jealous queen and her,

since our brother made them gentlewomen,

are great influences on the King.

BRAKENBURY.

I beseech your Graces both to pardon me:

His Majesty hath straitly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with your brother.

I must ask your Graces to both excuse me:

his Majesty has given strict orders

that nobody is to speak privately with

your brother under any circumstances.

RICHARD.

Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,

You may partake of any thing we say:

We speak no treason, man; we say the King

Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen

Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;

We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,

A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;

And that the Queen's kindred are made gentlefolks.

How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?

Very well; if you want to, Brakenbury,

you can listen to anything we say:

we are not discussing treason, man; we say the King

is wise and virtuous, and his noble Queen

nicely mature, fair and not jealous;

we say that Shore's wife is graceful,

with red lips, merry eyes, and she speaks well;

and that the Queen's relatives are made into gentlefolk.

What do you say to that, sir? Can you deny all this?

BRAKENBURY.

With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.

This is nothing to do with me, my lord.

RICHARD.

Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee,

fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,

Were best to do it secretly alone.

Nothing to do with Mistress Shore! I tell you, fellow,

that anyone doing ‘nothing’ with her, apart from one,

would be well advised to do it in secret.

BRAKENBURY.

What one, my lord?

Who is the one, my lord?

RICHARD.

Her husband, knave! Wouldst thou betray me?

Her husband, scoundrel! Do you want to get me into trouble?

BRAKENBURY.

I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and

withal

Forbear your conference with the noble Duke.

I beg your Grace to excuse me, and also