The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (126 page)

What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me?

Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour

prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honor set-to a leg?

no:or an arm? no:or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour

hath no skill in surgery then? no. What is honour? a word. What

is that word, honour? air. A trim reckoning!--Who hath it? he that

died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth be hear it? no. Is it

insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the

living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none

of it:honour is a mere scutcheon:--and so ends my catechism.

It's not due yet; I don't want to pay Him before the day comes.

Why should I offer before He asks for it?

Well, no matter; honour spurs me on.Yes, but what if honour

gets stuck into me when I go on?Can honour reattach a leg?

No: or an arm? No: or take away the pain of a wound? No.Has

honour any skill in surgery?No.What is honour?A word.What

is that word, honour?Breath.A heavy price!Who has it?Someone

who died on Wednesday.Can he feel it?No?Does he hear it?No.Is it useless, then?Yes, to the dead.But won't it stay with the living?No.

Why not?It won't stand up to criticism.So I want nothing to do

with it.Honour is just a dressing for a coffin: that's my opinion.

[Exit.]

[Enter Worcester and Vernon.]

WOR.

O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard,

The liberal-kind offer of the King.

Oh no, Sir Richard, we mustn't let my nephew know

this generous kind offer from the King.

VER.

'Twere best he did.

It's best he does.

WOR.

Then are we all undone.

It is not possible, it cannot be,

The King should keep his word in loving us;

He will suspect us still, and find a time

To punish this offence in other faults:

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;

For treason is but trusted like the fox,

Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,

Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.

Look how we can, or sad or merrily,

Interpretation will misquote our looks;

And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,

The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.

My nephew's trespass may be well forgot:

It hath th' excuse of youth and heat of blood,

And an adopted name of privilege,--

A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen:

All his offences live upon my head

And on his father's:we did train him on;

And, his corruption being ta'en from us,

We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all.

Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know,

In any case, the offer of the King.

Then we are all lost.

It isn't possible, it can't happen,

that the King would keep his word to love us;

he will still suspect us, and find a time

to punish our offences in other ways:

we will always be looked at with suspicion,

for treason can only be trusted like a fox,

who, however tame, however loved and domesticated,

will always retain his wild side.

However we look, sad or happy,

we will be misinterpreted,

and we will be like oxen feeding in a stall,

more pampered the nearer we get to death.

My nephew's rebellion might well be forgotten,

excused by his youth and his passion,

and a nickname which allows him to be rash–

harebrained Hotspur, governed by spleen:

all his offences will fall on the head of me

and his father. We encouraged him,

and, having been led astray by us,

we as the instigators will pay for everything:

therefore, good cousin, do not let Harry know

the offer of the King under any circumstances.

VER.

Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so.

Here comes your cousin.

Say what you want, I shall back you.

Here comes your cousin.

[Enter Hotspur and Douglas; Officers and Soldiers behind.]

HOT.

My uncle is return'd: deliver up

My Lord of Westmoreland.--Uncle, what news?

My uncle has come back: bring me

my Lord of Westmorland. Uncle, what's the news?

WOR.

The King will bid you battle presently.

The King will invite you to battle soon.

DOUG.

Defy him by the Lord Of Westmoreland.

Send a message of defiance by the Lord of Westmorland.

HOT.

Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.

Lord Douglas, you go and tell him so.

DOUG.

Marry, I shall, and very willingly.

I certainly shall, very willingly.

[Exit.]

WOR.

There is no seeming mercy in the King.

It seems the king has no mercy.

HOT.

Did you beg any? God forbid!

Did you beg for any? Heaven forbid!

WOR.

I told him gently of our grievances,

Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus,

By new-forswearing that he is forsworn:

He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge

With haughty arms this hateful name in us.

I told him politely of our grievances,

about his oath breaking; he answered

with yet another false oath:

he calls us rebels, traitors; and he will tear

at our hated name with his arrogant forces.

[Re-enter Douglas.]

DOUG.

Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown

A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,

And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it;

Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

Arm yourselves, gentlemen; arm yourselves! I have thrown

brave defiance back in King Henry's face,

and Westmorland has taken it to him as I ordered;

that can't help but bring him on quickly.

WOR.

The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the King,

And, nephew, challenged you to single fight.

The Prince of Wales stepped out ahead of the King,

and, nephew, challenged you to single combat.

HOT.

O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads;

And that no man might draw short breath to-day

But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,

How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt?

Oh, I would like for just the two of us to fight,

so that no man today would fight apart from

me and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,

what was his challenge like? Did it seem contemptuous?

VER.

No, by my soul: I never in my life

Did hear a challenge urged more modestly,

Unless a brother should a brother dare

To gentle exercise and proof of arms.

He gave you all the duties of a man;

Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue;

Spoke your deservings like a chronicle;

Making you ever better than his praise,

By still dispraising praise valued with you;

And, which became him like a prince indeed,

He made a blushing cital of himself;

And chid his truant youth with such a grace,

As if he master'd there a double spirit,

Of teaching and of learning instantly.

There did he pause:but let me tell the world,

If he outlive the envy of this day,

England did never owe so sweet a hope,

So much misconstrued in his wantonness.

No, I swear: I never in my life

Heard a more modest challenge,

it was like a brother challenging a brother

to a gentle fencing match.

He acknowledged all your virtues as a man;

he richly praised you with a princely tongue;

he spoke of your reputation like a history book;

he made you seem even greater than his praise,

by saying that his praises could not do you justice;

and, what was very princely of him,

he made a very modest assessment of himself;

he criticised his wasted youth with such grace,

as if he had managed the trick of

teaching and learning simultaneously.

He paused there there: but let me tell the world–

if he survives the evils of this day,

England never had such a great hope

who has been so misunderstood through his behaviour.

HOT.

Cousin, I think thou art enamoured

Upon his follies: never did I hear

Of any prince so wild o' liberty.

But be he as he will, yet once ere night

I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,

That he shall shrink under my courtesy.--

Arm, arm with speed:and, fellows, soldiers, friends,

Better consider what you have to do

Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,

Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Cousin, you seem to be charmed

by his foolishness: I never heard

of any prince who was such a libertine.

But whatever he's like, before nightfall

I will give him the embrace of a soldier,

and he shall fall down from my affection.

Arm yourselves, quickly: and, fellows, soldiers, friends,

think of what you have to do, you can

do that better for yourselves, I don't have

the gift of the gab to get you going.

[Enter a Messenger.]

MESS.

My lord, here are letters for you.

My Lord, here are letters for you.

HOT.

I cannot read them now.--

O gentlemen, the time of life is short!

To spend that shortness basely were too long,

If life did ride upon a dial's point,

Still ending at th' arrival of an hour.

An if we live, we live to tread on kings;

If die, brave death, when princes die with us!