The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (932 page)

 

GLOUCESTER

There is a cliff, whose high and bending head

Looks fearfully in the confined deep:

Bring me but to the very brim of it,

And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear

With something rich about me: from that place

I shall no leading need.

 

There is a cliff whose high overhanging head

looks terrifyingly down into the channeled sea:

just bring me to the very edge of it

and I'll pay you for your pains

with  one of my treasures: I shall not need

to be led away from that place.

 

EDGAR

Give me thy arm:

Poor Tom shall lead thee.

 

Exeunt

 

Give me your arm:

Poor Tom will lead you.

 

 

Enter GONERIL and EDMUND

 

GONERIL

Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband

Not met us on the way.

 

Enter OSWALD

Now, where's your master'?

 

Welcome, my lord: I'm surprised my sweet husband

didn't meet us on the way.

 

Now, where's your master?

 

OSWALD

Madam, within; but never man so changed.

I told him of the army that was landed;

He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:

His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,

And of the loyal service of his son,

When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,

And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:

What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;

What like, offensive.

 

Madam, he's inside; I never saw a man so changed.

I told him about the army that had landed;

he smiled: I told him you were coming:

his answer was, “that's bad": I told him about Gloucester's treachery,

and how his son served you loyally,

when I told him he called me a fool,

and told me I had everything back to front:

he seems to like the things he should hate,

and find the things he should like offensive.

 

GONERIL

[To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit,

That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs

Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;

Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:

I must change arms at home, and give the distaff

Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant

Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,

If you dare venture in your own behalf,

A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;

 

Giving a favour

Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,

Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:

Conceive, and fare thee well.

 

Then you will go no further.

This is down to his cowardly spirit,

that doesn't dare do anything: he won't be offended

by anything if it means he might have to act. Our plans on the way

might get him moving. Go back to my brother, Edmund;

speed up the gathering of his army and direct his forces:

I must change our household positions, and give my husband

the apron. This trustworthy servant

will be our go-between; before long you are likely to hear,

if you dare to do things for yourself,

the command of a mistress. Wear this; don't talk;

bend down your head: this kiss, if it could talk,

would raise your spirits to the heights:

believe, and farewell.

 

EDMUND

Yours in the ranks of death.

 

I'm yours until death.

 

GONERIL

My most dear Gloucester!

 

Exit EDMUND

O, the difference of man and man!

To thee a woman's services are due:

My fool usurps my bed.

 

My dearest Gloucester!

 

Oh how different one man is from another!

You deserve a woman's favors:

there's an idiot in my bed.

 

OSWALD

Madam, here comes my lord.

 

Exit

 

Enter ALBANY

 

Madam, here comes my lord.

 

GONERIL

I have been worth the whistle.

 

Once I was worth coming to meet.

 

ALBANY

O Goneril!

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind

Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:

That nature, which contemns its origin,

Cannot be border'd certain in itself;

She that herself will sliver and disbranch

From her material sap, perforce must wither

And come to deadly use.

 

Oh Goneril!

You are not worth the dust which the rough wind

blows in your face. I fear your character:

the nature of someone who condemns their parents

cannot be thought of as properly balanced;

the one who will cut herself off

from her family tree will surely wither

and eventually die.

 

GONERIL

No more; the text is foolish.

 

That's enough, this is foolish talk.

 

ALBANY

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:

Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?

Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?

A father, and a gracious aged man,

Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,

Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.

Could my good brother suffer you to do it?

A man, a prince, by him so benefited!

If that the heavens do not their visible spirits

Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,

It will come,

Humanity must perforce prey on itself,

Like monsters of the deep.

 

To those who are vile, wisdom and goodness seem vile:

foulness only tastes itself. What have you done?

Wild beasts, not daughters, what have you done?

A father, a good old man-

whom even a trapped bear would show respect to,

however barbaric and degenerate it was!-you have driven mad.

How could my good brother have let you do it?

A man, a prince, whom he had treated so well!

If the heavens do not quickly send down their physical

messengers to punish these horrible crimes,

it will turn out

that humankind will turn on itself,

like the monsters of the sea.

 

GONERIL

Milk-liver'd man!

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;

Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning

Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st

Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd

Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?

France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;

With plumed helm thy state begins to threat;

Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest

'Alack, why does he so?'

 

You lily-livered man!

You have a cheek for slapping, a head to hurt;

you do not have the sense to see the difference

between what should be tolerated and what not; you don't know

that only fools pity those villains who get punished

in order to prevent their mischief. Where's your drum?

France is raising his flags in our silent land;

in his plumed helmet he is beginning to threaten your state,

while you sit here moralising, and crying,

“Alas, why is he doing this?"

 

ALBANY

See thyself, devil!

Proper deformity seems not in the fiend

So horrid as in woman.

 

Look at yourself, devil!

The deformity which suits a demon

looks more horrible in a woman.

 

GONERIL

O vain fool!

 

You stupid fool!

 

ALBANY

Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,

Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness

To let these hands obey my blood,

They are apt enough to dislocate and tear

Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,

A woman's shape doth shield thee.

 

You changed and disguised thing, for shame,

take that devilish look off your face. If I was inclined

to let my hands obey my feelings

they would be ready to separate and tear

your flesh and your bones: but however evil you are

your woman's body protects you.

 

GONERIL

Marry, your manhood now--

 

Enter a Messenger

 

Right, well your manhood–

 

ALBANY

What news?

 

What is the news?

 

Messenger

O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:

Slain by his servant, going to put out

The other eye of Gloucester.

 

Oh, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead:

killed by his servant as he went to put out

Gloucester's other eye.

 

ALBANY

Gloucester's eye!

 

Gloucester's eye!

 

Messenger

A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,

Opposed against the act, bending his sword

To his great master; who, thereat enraged,

Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;

But not without that harmful stroke, which since

Hath pluck'd him after.

 

A servant whom he had raised, full of remorse,

fought against him, drawing his sword

against his great master; enraged by this

his master attacked him and struck him dead,

but not without receiving the fatal wound, which later

killed him too.

 

ALBANY

This shows you are above,

You justicers, that these our nether crimes

So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!

Lost he his other eye?

 

This shows you are still sitting above,

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