The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (677 page)

(Prologue)

Flourish.

New plays and maidenheads are near akin—

Much follow’d both, for both much money gi’n,

If they stand sound and well; and a good play

(Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage-day,

And shake to lose his honor) is like her

That after holy tie and first night’s stir,

Yet still is modesty, and still retains

More of the maid to sight than husband’s pains.

We pray our play may be so; for I am sure

It has a noble breeder and a pure,

A learned, and a poet never went

More famous yet ’twixt Po and silver Trent.

Chaucer (of all admir’d) the story gives;

There constant to eternity it lives.

If we let fall the nobleness of this,

And the first sound this child hear be a hiss,

How will it shake the bones of that good man,

And make him cry from under ground, “O, fan

From me the witless chaff of such a writer

That blasts my bays and my fam’d works makes lighter

Than Robin Hood!” This is the fear we bring;

For to say truth, it were an endless thing,

And too ambitious, to aspire to him,

Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim

In this deep water. Do but you hold out

Your helping hands, and we shall tack about

And something do to save us. You shall hear

Scenes, though below his art, may yet appear

Worth two hours’ travail. To his bones sweet sleep!

Content to you! If this play do not keep

A little dull time from us, we perceive

Our losses fall so thick we must needs leave.

New plays and virginity are very alike–

both much chased after, both given for a high price,

if they are genuine; and a good play

(whose modest scenes blush on its first time,

and shake at losing its honour) is like her

who after the marriage and the first night's activity,

remains modest and looks

more like a maid than one who's been with a husband.

We pray our play may be like this; for I am sure

it has a noble ancestor, pure,

learned, there was never a more famous poet

between the River Po and the silver Trent.

Chaucer, admired by everyone, wrote the plot;

and so it lives in eternity.

If we fall from this high standard,

and the first sound this child hears is a hiss,

how it will shake the bones of that good man,

and make him cry from underground, “Oh

separate me from the drivel of such a writer

who is destroying my fame and making my great works

seem lighter than Robin Hood!" This is what worries us;

to tell the truth, it would take forever,

and would be too ambitious, to hope to be like him,

weak as we are, we are almost breathless swimming

in this deep water. Just hold out

your helping hands, and we shall turn around

and try and save ourselves. You shall hear

scenes that, although not as great as his, might still

seem worth a couple of hours' watching. May he rest in peace!

May you be happy! If this play doesn't stave off

boredom for a while, we can see

we will suffer such losses that we must give up.

Flourish.

Athens. Before a temple.

(Hymen, Boy, Nymphs, Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia, Artesius, Attendants, Three Queens)

Enter Hymen with a torch burning; a Boy, in a white robe, before, singing and strewing flow’rs; after Hymen, a Nymph, encompass’d in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland; then Theseus, between two other Nymphs with wheaten chaplets an their heads; then Hippolyta, the bride, led by Pirithous, and another holding a garland over her head (her tresses likewise hanging; after her, Emilia, holding up her train; Artesius and Attendants.

BOY

Music. The Song by the Boy.

Roses, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden pinks, of odor faint,

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,

And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, first-born child of Ver,

Merry spring-time’s harbinger,

With her bells dim;

Oxlips in their cradles growing,

Marigolds on death-beds blowing,

Larks’-heels trim;

All dear Nature’s children sweet,

Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet.

Strew flowers.

Blessing their sense;

Not an angel of the air,

Bird melodious, or bird fair,

Is absent hence.

The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, nor

The boding raven, nor chough hoar,

Nor chatt’ring pie,

May on our bridehouse perch or sing,

Or with them any discord bring,

But from it fly.

Roses, once their thorns are gone,

are not made royal only by their perfume,

but by their colour as well;

maiden pinks which smell little,

daisies which don't smell but are pretty,

and true sweet thyme;

primroses, first flower of spring,

signalling the happy start of springtime

with her muted bells;

oxlips growing in their cradles,

marigolds blowing over graves,

neat larks'-heels;

all of dear Nature's sweet children

are lying at the bride and bridegroom's feet.

They bless their senses;

not one angel of the air,

sweet singing or beautiful bird,

is missing.

The crow, the lying cuckoo,

the ominous raven, the cold cough,

nor the chattering magpie,

may not sit on the wedding house or sing

or bring any discord here,

they should fly away.

Enter three Queens, in black, with veils stain’d, with imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of Theseus; the second falls down at the foot of Hippolyta; the third before Emilia.

FIRST QUEEN.

For pity’s sake and true gentility’s,

Hear and respect me.

For the sake of pity and nobility,

hear me and respect me.

SECOND QUEEN.

For your mother’s sake,

And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,

Hear and respect me.

For the sake of your mother,

and your future hopes of beautiful children,

hear me and respect me.

THIRD QUEEN.

Now for the love of him whom Jove hath mark’d

The honor of your bed, and for the sake

Of clear virginity, be advocate

For us and our distresses! This good deed

Shall raze you out o’ th’ book of trespasses

All you are set down there.

Now for the love of the one whom Jove has chosen

to honour your bed, and in the name

of pure virginity, speak out

for us and our misfortunes!  This good deed

will wipe out all your sins.

THESEUS

Sad lady, rise.

Sad lady, get up.

HIPPOLYTA

Stand up.

Stand up.

EMILIA

No knees to me.

What woman I may stead that is distress’d

Does bind me to her.

There's no need to kneel to me.

If a woman is in trouble and needs my help

I will not fail her.

THESEUS

What’s your request? Deliver you for all.

What do you want to ask for?  You speak for all of you.

FIRST QUEEN.

We are three queens, whose sovereigns fell before

The wrath of cruel Creon; who endured

The beaks of ravens, talents of the kites,

And pecks of crows in the foul fields of Thebes.

He will not suffer us to bum their bones,

To urn their ashes, nor to take th’ offense

Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye

Of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds

With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke,

Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear’d sword

That does good turns to th’ world; give us the bones

Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them;

And of thy boundless goodness take some note

That for our crowned heads we have no roof,

Save this which is the lion’s, and the bear’s,

And vault to every thing!

We are three queens, whose husbands were killed

by the anger of cruel Creon; their bodies were torn

by the beaks of ravens, the claws of kites,

and the pecking of crows in the foul fields of Thebes.