The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (284 page)

BOOK: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
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hear what he was saying; but at the finish

I certainly heard, said with a groan,

“Oh farewell, Warwick!"

 

WARWICK.

Sweet rest his soul!--Fly, lords, and save yourselves;

For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven.

 

May his soul have sweet rest! Flee, lords, and save yourselves;

for Warwick says farewell to you all, and will see you in heaven.

 

[Dies.]

 

OXFORD.

Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!

 

Let's go, let's go and greet the great force of the queen!

 

[Exeunt bearing off Warwick's body.]

 

 

 

 

[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD in triumph; with CLARENCE, GLOSTER,

and the rest.]

 

KING EDWARD.

Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,

And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.

But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,

I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,

That will encounter with our glorious sun

Ere he attain his easeful western bed.

I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen

Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast

And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

 

So far fortune has smiled upon us,

and we have been blessed with victories.

But, in the middle of this bright day,

I can see a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,

that will attack our glorious sun

before it sets in peace in the West.

I mean, my lords, those forces that the Queen

gathered in France which have arrived on our coast

and, as we hear, are coming to fight with us.

 

 

CLARENCE.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud

And blow it to the source from whence it came;

Thy very beams will dry those vapours up,

For every cloud engenders not a storm.

 

 A small wind will soon disperse that crowd

and blow it back where it came from;

the sunbeams coming from you will dry it up,

not every cloud causes a storm.

 

GLOSTER.

The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;

If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,

Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

 

They say the Queen has thirty thousand men,

and Somerset has fled to her with Oxford;

if she is allowed to pause for breath, you can be certain

that her army will be every bit as strong as ours.

 

KING EDWARD.

We are advertis'd by our loving friends

That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury.

We, having now the best at Barnet field,

Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;

And, as we march, our strength will be augmented

In every county as we go along.--

Strike up the drum! cry 'Courage!' and away.

 

We have been advised by our loving friends

that they are going to Tewkesbury.

Now we have won at Barnet

we will go straight there, the soldiers are ready;

and, as we march, we will gather forces

in every county we pass through.

Strike up the drum! Cry “Courage!" and go.

 

[Exeunt.]

 

 

 

 

[March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET,

OXFORD, and Soldiers.]

 

QUEEN MARGARET.

Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

What though the mast be now blown overboard,

The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,

And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?

Yet lives our pilot still. Is 't meet that he

Should leave the helm, and like a fearful lad

With tearful eyes add water to the sea,

And give more strength to that which hath too much,

Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock,

Which industry and courage might have sav'd?

Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!

Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?

And Montague our topmast; what of him?

Our slaught'red friends the tackles; what of these?

Why, is not Oxford here another anchor,

And Somerset another goodly mast?

The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?

And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I

For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?

We will not from the helm to sit and weep,

But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack,

As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.

And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?

What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?

And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?

All these the enemies to our poor bark?

Say you can swim; alas, 't is but a while!

Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink;

Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,

Or else you famish,--that's a threefold death.

This speak I, lords, to let you understand,

If case some one of you would fly from us,

That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers

More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks.

Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided

'T were childish weakness to lament or fear.

 

Great lords, wise men never sit and bemoan their misfortunes,

but happily look for ways to make things better.

So what if the mast has been blown overboard,

the rope broken, the anchor lost,

and half of our sailors drowned in the flood?

Our pilot is still alive. Would it be right for him

to leave the wheel, and like a scared lad

add more water to the sea from his crying eyes,

strengthening that which is already too strong,

so while he's complaining the ship splits on the rock,

when courage and hard work might have saved it?

Ah, how shameful! Ah, how terrible this is!

Imagine Warwick was our anchor; so what?

And Montague was our mast; what about him?

Our slaughtered friends the tackle; what about it?

Why, doesn't Oxford here make a good anchor,

and Somerset a good replacement mast?

Our friends from France our sails and ropes?

And though we are not experienced, why can't Ned and I

for once be allowed to do the job of the skilful pilot?

We won't leave the wheel to sit and weep,

we should keep our course, though the rough wind tries to drive us off,

steering away from shelves and rocks that threatened to wreck us,

there is as much point in criticising the waves as speaking to them politely.

And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?

What is Clarence but a quicksand of lies?

And Richard but a jagged fatal rock?

All these are the enemies of our poor ship!

So you can swim; alas, you can't do that forever!

Tread on the sand; you will quickly sink in;

climb on the rock; the tide will wash you off,

or else you will starve, dying three different ways in one.

I'm telling you this, lords, to make you understand,

in case some of you are thinking of deserting us,

that you won't get any more mercy from those brothers

than you would get from ruthless waves, quicksands or rocks.

Why, be brave then! If something can't be avoided

then it's childish weakness to moan or be afraid.

 

PRINCE.

Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit

Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,

Infuse his breast with magnanimity,

And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.

I speak not this as doubting any here;

For, did I but suspect a fearful man,

He should have leave to go away betimes,

Lest in our need he might infect another

And make him of the like spirit to himself.

If any such be here--as God forbid!--

Let him depart before we need his help.

 

I think that if a coward heard a woman of such

brave spirit speaking these words he would

fill his heart with courage and he would

take on an armed man, unarmed.

I'm not saying this because I have doubts about anyone here;

for, if I had any suspicions about someone's courage

I would give him permission to leave at once,

in case in our hour of need he might infect another

and make him the same as himself.

If there are any like that here–may God forbid it!–

let him leave before we need his help.

 

OXFORD.

Women and children of so high a courage,

And warriors faint! why, 't were perpetual shame.--

O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather

Doth live again in thee; long mayst thou live

To bear his image and renew his glories!

 

Women and children being so brave,

while warriors shrink back! Why, this is eternal shame.

O brave young prince! Your famous grandfather

lives again in you; may you live long

to carry his image and renew his glory!

 

SOMERSET.

And he that will not fight for such a hope,

Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,

If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

 

And anyone who won't fight for this course,

go home to bed, and be mocked and stared at

like the owl if it flies in the day.

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