The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (849 page)

stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his

miseries,

Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'

'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen

Tongue, and brain not; either both or nothing,

Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such

As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,

The action of my life is like it, which

I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

Re-enter GAOLER

Sleep, you have been a grandfather to me and conceived

a father for me; and you created

a mother and two brothers.But, a mockery,

gone!They disappeared as quickly as they came;

and now I am awake.Poor wretches, who depend

on the favour of the great, dream as I have;

then they wake and find nothing.But alas, I'm wandering;

many don't dream to find , and don't deserve,

but still get, great favours, and I'm one of them,

who has this golden chance and doesn't know why.

What fairies haunt this place?A book?What a beautiful one!

Don't be, as it is in our foppish world, better outside

than in.Let you what you have to say

be very unlike our courtiers,

and actually live up to your external promise.

'When the child of a lion shall find without seeking,

unbeknownst to himself, and be embraced by a piece of tender air;

and when from a great cedar tree branches are lopped which,

having been dead for many years, will afterwards revive, be grafted

onto the old tree, and grow afresh; then the misery of Posthumus will end,

and Britain shall be lucky and flourish with peace and prosperity.'

It's still a dream, or the sort of thing madmen

say without thinking; it's either both or nothing,

speech without sense, or speech that sense

can't understand.Whatever it is,

it seems to follow my life, and I'll keep it,

if only out of sympathy.

GAOLER.

Come, sir, are you ready for death?

Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS.

Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

Rather overdone; I was ready long ago.

GAOLER.

Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you

are

well cook'd.

You are to be hung, they say, sir; if you are ready for that,

you are well done.

POSTHUMUS.

So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the

dish

pays the shot.

As long as I give the spectators a good meal,

the meat pays for itself.

GAOLER.

A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you

shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern

bills,

which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of

mirth.

You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too

much

drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you

are

paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the

heavier

for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of

heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O,

the

charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You

have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is,

and

to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and

counters; so the acquittance follows.

It's a heavy price for you to pay, sir.But the good thing is,

you will never be asked to pay again, you won't have to fear tavern bills,

which often cause sadness on parting, after you've had your fun;

you come in faint with hunger, and leave reeling with too much drink;

sorry that you have paid so much and sorry that you've had too much;

your brain and purse are both empty; the brain is heavier

for being too light, and the purse is too light, having lost its heaviness.

You won't have to face this contradiction any more.

Oh, the charity of a cheap rope!It settles thousands of bills in an instant.

You have no real debtor or creditor except for it; what's past

and what is to come, it pays for all.Your neck sir, is the pen, the ledger

and the counters; after it's paid, everything is settled.

POSTHUMUS.

I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

It seems I'm happier to die than you are to live.

GAOLER.

Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache.

But a

man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him

to

bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for

look

you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

Indeed, sir, the one who sleeps doesn't feel the toothache.

But if a man was to sleep the sleep you're going to, with a hangman

to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his helper;

for look, sir, you don't know where you're going.

POSTHUMUS.

Yes indeed do I, fellow.

Actually I certainly do, fellow.

GAOLER.

Your death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen

him so

pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon

them

to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do

not

know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how

you

shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never

return to

tell one.

Your death has eyes in its head, then; I've never seen him pictured

like that.You must have either been told something by those in the know,

or think you know something which I'm sure you don't,

or you're trying not to think of what might be coming after.And how

you'll get to your journey's end, I don't think you'll ever

Come back to tell us.

POSTHUMUS.

I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to

direct

them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use

them.

I tell you, fellow, there's nobody who's so blind about the way I'm going

as those who have eyes and don't use them.

GAOLER.

What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have

the

best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure

hanging's

the way of winking.

Enter a MESSENGER

What a great joke this is, that a man should use his eyes best

to see like a blind man!I'm sure hanging will make you blind.

MESSENGER.

Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the

King.

Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King.

POSTHUMUS.

Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made

free.

You've brought good news: they're calling me to set me free.

GAOLER.

I'll be hang'd then.

Well I'll be hanged.

POSTHUMUS.

Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for

the

dead.

Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER

Then you would be freer than a jailer: there are no bolts that can restrain ghosts.

GAOLER.

Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young

gibbets,

I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are

verier

knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be

some

of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I

were

one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O,

there

were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my

present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't.

 Exit

Unless a man married a gallows and fathered nooses,

I never saw anyone so eager.But I must say, there are

worse scoundrels who want to live, for all that he's a Roman; and some of them

die against their will; I would too, if I were one.

I wish we all thought the same, and all thought good thoughts.

Oh, I wish there were a famine of jailers and gallows!I speak against

my immediate gain, but I hope it comes true and I would get a better job.

Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS,

OFFICERS, and attendants

CYMBELINE.

Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart

That the poor soldier that so richly fought,

Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast

Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found.

He shall be happy that can find him, if

Our grace can make him so.

Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made

saviours of my throne.I am very sad

that the poor soldier who fought so well,

whose rags covered strong arms, whose armourless chest

was greater than tested shields, cannot be found.

Whoever finds him will be happy,

if it's in my power to make him so.

BELARIUS.

I never saw

Such noble fury in so poor a thing;

Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought

But beggary and poor looks.

I never saw

such noble courage from such a lowly man;

such amazing deeds from one who

looked so poor and beggarly.

CYMBELINE.

No tidings of him?

Is there no news of him?

PISANIO.

He hath been search'd among the dead and living,

But no trace of him.

They have looked for him amongst the living and the dead,

but there's no trace of him.

CYMBELINE.

To my grief, I am

The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and