The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (156 page)

Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:

The seasons change their manners, as the year

Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.

 

The people worry me, for they have seen

children born without fathers, and deformed animals:

the seasons have not had their usual weather, as if the year

had been asleep for some months, and had skipped over them.

 

CLARENCE.

The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;

And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,

Say it did so a little time before

That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.

 

The river has flooded three times, with no respite between:

and the old folk, the ones time uses to record history,

say it did the same a little while before

our great-grandfather, Edward, became sick and died.

 

WARWICK.

Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.

 

Speak more quietly, Princes, for the King is recovering.

 

GLOUCESTER.

This apoplexy will certain be his end.

 

These fits will certainly kill him.

 

KING.

I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence

Into some other chamber:  softly, pray.

 

Please, pick me up, and take me from here

into some other room: gently, please.

 

[Exeunt.]

 

 

[The King lying on a bed:  Clarence, Gloucester, Warwick,

and others in attendance.]

 

KING.

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;

Unless some dull and favourable hand

Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

 

Don't make any noise, kind friends,

unless some soft and sweet hand

wants to offer my weary spirit some music.

 

WARWICK.

Call for the music in the other room.

 

Tell the musicians to play in the other room.

 

KING.

Set me the crown upon my pillow here.

 

Put the crown by me on my pillow.

 

CLARENCE.

His eye is hollow, and he changes much.

 

His eyes are sunken, he's changed a lot.

 

WARWICK.

Less noise! less noise!

 

Less noise, less noise!

 

[Enter Prince Henry.]

 

PRINCE.

Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

 

Has anyone seen the Duke of Clarence?

 

CLARENCE.

I am here, brother, full of heaviness.

 

I am here, brother, full of sorrow.

 

PRINCE.

How now! rain within doors, and none abroad!

How doth the king?

 

What's this?  Rain indoors, and none outside!

How is the king?

 

GLOUCESTER.

Exceeding ill.

 

Extremely ill.

 

PRINCE.

Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

 

Has he heard the good news yet?  Tell him.

 

GLOUCESTER.

He alt'red much upon the hearing it.

 

He changed greatly when he heard it.

 

PRINCE.

If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.

 

If he is sick with joy he'll recover without medicine.

 

WARWICK.

Not so much noise, my lords:  sweet prince, speak low;

The king your father is disposed to sleep.

 

Don't make so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, speak softly;

your father the king wants to sleep.

 

CLARENCE.

Let us withdraw into the other room.

 

Let's go into the other room.

 

WARWICK.

Will't please your grace to go along with us?

 

Will your grace come along with us?

 

PRINCE.

No; I will sit and watch here by the king.

[Exeunt all but the Prince.]

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,

Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

O polish'd perturbation! golden care!

That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide

To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!

Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet

As he whose brow with homely biggen bound

Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!

When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit

Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,

That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath

There lies a downy feather which stirs not:

Did he suspire, that light and weightless down

Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep

That from this golden rigol hath divorced

So many English kings. Thy due from me

Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,

Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,

Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:

My due from thee is this imperial crown,

Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,

Derives itself to me.  Lo, here it sits,

Which God shall guard:  and put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm, it shall not force

This lineal honour from me:  this from thee

Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

 

No, I will keep a vigil here with the king.

Why is the crown lying there on his pillow,

being such a troublesome bedfellow?

You polished disturbance!  Golden worry!

You have kept his eyes open on too many

sleepless nights!  He sleeps with it now!

But not half so deeply or sweetly as one

whose head is covered with a coarse nightcap

and snores through the night.  Oh majesty!

When you sit on your wearer you are like

heavy armour worn in the sunshine,

that scalds as it protects.  By his mouth

there is a soft feather which isn't moving;

if he breathed out, that light thing

would have to move.  My gracious lord!  My father!

This is indeed a sound sleep; this is a sleep

which this golden circlet has kept

from so many English kings.  I owe you

tears and great melancholy,

which nature, love and a son's feelings

shall give you in abundance, dear father;

what you will pay me is this imperial crown,

which, as the closest to you in position and kinship,

comes down to me.  Look, here it sits,

and God shall protect it: if the strength of the whole world

became one giant arm it could not steal

my inheritance from me: this thing you give

I shall pass on to my heirs, as you do to me.

 

[Exit.]

 

KING.

Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

 

Warwick!  Gloucester!  Clarence!

 

[Re-enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence, and the rest.]

 

CLARENCE.

Doth the king call?

 

Did the king call?

 

WARWICK.

What would your majesty? How fares your grace?

 

What does your majesty want?  How are you?

 

KING.

Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

 

Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

 

CLARENCE.

We left the prince my brother here, my liege,

Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

 

We left the prince my brother here, my lord,

who said he would keep vigil by you.

 

KING.

The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him:

He is not here.

 

The Prince of Wales!  Where is he?  Let me see him:

he is not here.

 

WARWICK.

This door is open; he is gone this way.

 

The door is open; he has gone this way.

 

GLOUCESTER.

He came not through the chamber where we stay'd.

 

He didn't come through the room where we were waiting.

 

KING.

Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?

 

Where is the crown?  Who took it from my pillow?

 

WARWICK.

When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.

 

When we went out, my lord, we left it here.

 

KING.

The prince hath ta'en it hence:  go, seek him out.

Is he so hasty that he doth suppose

My sleep my death?

Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.

[Exit Warwick.]

This part of his conjoins with my disease,

And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!

How quickly nature falls into revolt

When gold becomes her object!

For this the foolish over-careful fathers

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,

Their bones with industry;

For this they have engross'd and piled up

The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;

For this they have been thoughtful to invest

Their sons with arts and martial exercises;

When, like the bee, tolling from every flower

The virtuous sweets,

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,

We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,

Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste

Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

[Re-enter Warwick.]

Now where is he that will not stay so long

Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?

 

The prince has taken it away: go and find him.

Is he so eager that he imagines

my sleep is my death?

Find him, my lord of Warwick; send him back here.

His leaving has combined with my illness,

and helps to finish me.  See, sons, what you are like!

How quickly nature rebels against itself

when there's gold to be had!

This is what the foolish prudent fathers

have ruined their sleep for, worn out their minds

with thought, and their bones with work;

for this they amassed and piled up

diseased heaps of gold from distant lands;

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