The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (962 page)

Son

Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

You lie, you shaggy haired villain!

First Murderer

What, you egg!

What! You egg!

Stabbing him

Young fry of treachery!

You son of treachery!

Son

He has kill'd me, mother:

Run away, I pray you!

He has killed me, mother—

I beg you to run away!

Dies

Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her

England. Before the King's Palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF

MALCOLM

Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Let’s find a dismal shady place and sit down

and cry our hearts out.

MACDUFF

Let us rather

Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men

Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn

New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows

Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds

As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out

Like syllable of dolour.

Let’s hold onto our swords, instead, and defend

our fallen birthplace like good men. Every new day,

new widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows

slap heaven on the face so loudly that it sounds

as if heaven feels Scotland’s pain and cries out in grief.

MALCOLM

What I believe I'll wail,

What know believe, and what I can redress,

As I shall find the time to friend, I will.

What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,

Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.

He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;

but something

You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom

To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb

To appease an angry god.

I deplore what I believe is wrong. I believe what I know.

I will set right what I can when I find the proper time.

What you just said might be true. This tyrant, whose name

blisters our tongues, was once considered honest.

You were loved by him. He hasn’t touched you yet.

I am young and don’t know much, but maybe

you want something from him and you’re thinking

it might be wise to offer up a poor, innocent lamb

like myself to please the angry god-like Macbeth.

MACDUFF

I am not treacherous.

I am not treacherous.

MALCOLM

But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil

In an imperial charge. But I shall crave

your pardon;

That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;

Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,

Yet grace must still look so.

But Macbeth is. A good and honest nature might

shrink back under a royal order. But I beg your pardon—

just because I’m thinking it doesn’t make it so.

Angels are still bright even though the brightest angel fell.

And although everything that is bad would like to appear like grace,

Grace must look like grace, too.

MACDUFF

I have lost my hopes.

I have lost my hopes.

MALCOLM

Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.

Why in that rawness left you wife and child,

Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,

Without leave-taking? I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,

But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,

Whatever I shall think.

Maybe you lost them where I found my doubts.

Why did you leave your wife and children

in that cruel place—those precious reasons

for being, those strong ties of love—without

saying goodbye? But please don’t feel shame

because of my suspicions. I’m just trying

to keep myself safe. You may be entirely just

and good, despite what I think.

MACDUFF

Bleed, bleed, poor country!

Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,

For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou

thy wrongs;

The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:

I would not be the villain that thou think'st

For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,

And the rich East to boot.

Bleed, bleed, poor country!

Great tyranny! You’ve lain a such a solid

foundation that good people will not even dare

to try and control you. Wear your wrongs easily

because your title is not in danger. Goodbye, lord.

I would not be the villain you think I am for

everything in that tyrant’s grasp, with the wealth

of the East thrown in, as well.

MALCOLM

Be not offended:

I speak not as in absolute fear of you.

I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;

It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash

Is added to her wounds: I think withal

There would be hands uplifted in my right;

And here from gracious England have I offer

Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,

When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,

Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country

Shall have more vices than it had before,

More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,

By him that shall succeed.

Please don’t be offended. I’m not saying these things

because I completely distrust you. I think our country

sinks under the weight of Macbeth’s oppression.

It weeps, it bleeds, and each day a deep new cut

is added to her wounds. I think many men

would volunteer to fight in my name. England

has offered thousands of good soldiers. Still,

when I place my boot upon Macbeth’s head,

or wear it on my sword, my poor country will

still have more troubles than it had before.

There will be more suffering in more ways

than now under he who follows Macbeth.

MACDUFF

What should he be?

Who would that be?

MALCOLM

It is myself I mean: in whom I know

All the particulars of vice so grafted

That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth

Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state

Esteem him as a lamb, being compared

With my confineless harms.

It is myself I refer to. I know all of the faults

in myself that—once revealed—will make

evil Macbeth seem as pure as snow, and

the poor country will see him as a lamb

compared with what I am capable of doing.

MACDUFF

Not in the legions

Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd

In evils to top Macbeth.

Not in all of hell can come a devil capable of outdoing Macbeth.

MALCOLM

I grant him bloody,

Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,

Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin

That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,

In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,

Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up

The cistern of my lust, and my desire

All continent impediments would o'erbear

That did oppose my will: better Macbeth

Than such an one to reign.

It’s true, he is murderous, lecherous, greedy, lying,

deceitful, unpredictable, malicious, and carries

every sin that can be named. But there’s no bottom—

none—to my own lustfulness: your wives, your daughters,

your dignified older women and your young women could

not possible fill the deep well of my lust. My desire

would overcome all resistance and obstacles,

I would so impose my will. You’d be better off

with Macbeth than with someone like me.

MACDUFF

Boundless intemperance

In nature is a tyranny; it hath been

The untimely emptying of the happy throne

And fall of many kings. But fear not yet

To take upon you what is yours: you may

Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,

And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.

We have willing dames enough: there cannot be

That vulture in you, to devour so many

As will to greatness dedicate themselves,

Finding it so inclined.

Boundless lack of control of lustful desires

is a sort of tyranny. It has resulted in the premature

emptying of the throne and the fall of many

kings. But don’t fear taking the crown that is yours.

You many find your pleasure everywhere and still

appear cold. No one needs to know. You can deceive

them. We have many willing women—you couldn’t

possibly devour so many as will give themselves

to the king, once they know he desires them.

MALCOLM

With this there grows

In my most ill-composed affection such

A stanchless avarice that, were I king,

I should cut off the nobles for their lands,

Desire his jewels and this other's house:

And my more-having would be as a sauce

To make me hunger more; that I should forge

Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,

Destroying them for wealth.

Along with being incredibly lustful, I am

also extremely greedy. If I were the king,

I should take away nobleman’s land.

I would desire his jewels and another’s house.

The more I got, the more I would want.

I would create arguments between good

and loyal men so they would be destroyed

and I would gain their wealth.

MACDUFF

This avarice

Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root