The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (68 page)

spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!

Jailer, please sit with me awhile;

my soul is heavy, and I should like to sleep.

KEEPER.

I will, my lord. God give your Grace good rest.

I will, my lord. May God give your Grace a good rest.

[CLARENCE sleeps]

Enter BRAKENBURY the Lieutenant

BRAKENBURY.

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,

Makes the night morning and the noontide night.

Princes have but their titles for their glories,

An outward honour for an inward toil;

And for unfelt imaginations

They often feel a world of restless cares,

So that between their tides and low name

There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Sorrow breaks up the seasons and the hours of rest,

makes the night morning and midday night.

Princes only have their titles as their glory,

external honours for inner turmoil;

instead of the pleasure we imagine they feel

they often have a world of restless care,

so that when they fall low there is

often nothing different except for their outward title.

Enter the two MURDERERS

FIRST MURDERER.

Ho! who's here?

Hello! Who's this?

BRAKENBURY.

What wouldst thou, fellow, and how cam'st

thou hither?

What do you want, fellow, and how did you

get in here?

FIRST MURDERER.

I would speak with Clarence, and I came

hither on my legs.

I want to speak to Clarence, and I came

here on my legs.

BRAKENBURY.

What, so brief?

Is that it?

SECOND MURDERER.

'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let

him see our commission and talk no more.

It's better than being long-winded, sir.

Have a look at our commission and let's have no more talk.

[BRAKENBURY reads it]

BRAKENBURY.

I am, in this, commanded to deliver

The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.

I will not reason what is meant hereby,

Because I will be guiltless from the meaning.

There lies the Duke asleep; and there the keys.

I'll to the King and signify to him

That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.

This orders me to hand over

the noble Duke of Clarence to you.

I will not question what this means,

because I don't want to be involved with any of it.

There is the duke lying asleep; and here are the keys.

I'll go to the king and tell him

that I have handed my prisoner over to you.

FIRST MURDERER.

You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom. Fare

you well.

Do that, sir; that's very wise. Farewell.

Exeunt BRAKENBURY and KEEPER

SECOND MURDERER.

What, shall I stab him as he sleeps?

Well, shall I stab him while he's asleep?

FIRST MURDERER.

No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when

he wakes.

No, he'll say it was a cowardly deed, when

he wakes up.

SECOND MURDERER.

Why, he shall never wake until the great

judgment-day.

But he won't wake up until

the day of judgement.

FIRST MURDERER.

Why, then he'll say we stabb'd him

sleeping.

Well, then he'll say we stabbed him while he was asleep.

SECOND MURDERER.

The urging of that word judgment hath

bred a kind of remorse in me.

The mention of that word judgement has

made me feel kind of regretful.

FIRST MURDERER.

What, art thou afraid?

What, are you afraid?

SECOND MURDERER.

Not to kill him, having a warrant; but to

be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can

defend me.

Not of killing him, we have a warrant; part of

the damnation I will get for killing him, which no warrant can

clear me of.

FIRST MURDERER.

I thought thou hadst been resolute.

I thought you were resolved.

SECOND MURDERER.

So I am, to let him live.

And I am, to let him live.

FIRST MURDERER.

I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester and

tell him so.

I'll go back to the Duke of Gloucester and tell him so.

SECOND MURDERER.

Nay, I prithee, stay a little. I hope this

passionate humour of mine will change; it was wont to

hold me but while one tells twenty.

No, please, wait a minute. I hope this

sudden passion of mine will fade; it usually

only lasts for twenty seconds.

FIRST MURDERER.

How dost thou feel thyself now?

How are you feeling now?

SECOND MURDERER.

Faith, some certain dregs of conscience

are yet within me.

I swear, there are still some dregs of conscience

within me.

FIRST MURDERER.

Remember our reward, when the deed's

done.

Think of the reward we shall get for the deed.

SECOND MURDERER.

Zounds, he dies; I had forgot the reward.

By God, he's dead; I'd forgotten about the reward.

FIRST MURDERER.

Where's thy conscience now?

Where is your conscience now?

SECOND MURDERER.

O, in the Duke of Gloucester's purse!

Oh, it's in the Duke of Gloucester's purse!

FIRST MURDERER.

When he opens his purse to give us our

reward, thy conscience flies out.

When he opens his purse to give us our

reward, your conscience will fly out.

SECOND MURDERER.

'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few or

none will entertain it.

It doesn't matter, let it go; it's not much

use to anybody.

FIRST MURDERER.

What if it come to thee again?

What if it comes back to haunt you?

SECOND MURDERER.

I'll not meddle with it-it makes a man

coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man

cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his

neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shame-

fac'd spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills a man

full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold

that-by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it.

It is turn'd out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing;

and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust

to himself and live without it.

I won't bother with it–it makes a man

a coward: a man cannot steal without it accusing him; a man

cannot swear without it stopping him; a man cannot sleep with his

neighbour's wife without it finding him out. It is a blushing

shamefaced spirit that rebels in a man's heart; it makes everything difficult

for a man; it once made me give back a purse of gold that I had

found by accident. It will make any man who obeys it a beggar.

It is thrown out of towns and cities as a dangerous thing;

and every man who wants to live well tries to trust

himself and live without it.

FIRST MURDERER.

Zounds, 'tis even now at my elbow,

persuading me not to kill the Duke.

By God, it's here at my elbow even now,

trying to persuade me not to kill the Duke.

SECOND MURDERER.

Take the devil in thy mind and believe

him not; he would insinuate with thee but to make thee

sigh.

Stay faithful to the devil and don't pay it

any attention; it will only give you grief if you do.

FIRST MURDERER.

I am strong-fram'd; he cannot prevail with

me.

I'm strong-minded; it can't win me over.

SECOND MURDERER.

Spoke like a tall man that respects thy

reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?

Spoken like a brave man who cares about

his reputation. Come, shall we get to work?

FIRST MURDERER.

Take him on the costard with the hilts of

thy sword, and then chop him in the malmsey-butt in the

next room.

Run him through the head with your sword up to

the hilt, and then chuck him in the barrel of malmsey

next door.

SECOND MURDERER.

O excellent device! and make a sop of

him.

A splendid trick! Make him a piece of dipping bread.

FIRST MURDERER.

Soft! he wakes.

Quiet! He's waking up.

SECOND MURDERER.

Strike!

Strike!

FIRST MURDERER.

No, we'll reason with him.

No, we'll reason with him.

CLARENCE.

Where art thou, Keeper? Give me a cup of wine.

Where are you, jailer? Give me a cup of wine.

SECOND MURDERER.

You shall have wine enough, my lord,

anon.

You will have plenty of wine, my lord, soon.

CLARENCE.

In God's name, what art thou?

In God's name, who are you?

FIRST MURDERER.

A man, as you are.

A man, like you.

CLARENCE.

But not as I am, royal.

But not royal, as I am.

SECOND MURDERER.

Nor you as we are, loyal.

And you are not loyal, as we are.

CLARENCE.

Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.

Your voice is like thunder, but you look humble.

FIRST MURDERER.

My voice is now the King's, my looks

mine own.

I am speaking for the King, my looks are my own.

CLARENCE.

How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!

Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale?

Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?