The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (963 page)

Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been

The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;

Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.

Of your mere own: all these are portable,

With other graces weigh'd.

This greed you speak of goes deeper

than the lust, and it will remain longer,

unlike lust. It has been the end to many kings.

Still, don’t worry. Scotland has a great number

of riches to satisfy you. These things can easily

be dealt with, and your strengths outweigh them.

MALCOLM

But I have none: the king-becoming graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,

Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,

Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,

I have no relish of them, but abound

In the division of each several crime,

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,

Uproar the universal peace, confound

All unity on earth.

But I don’t have any of the graces kings

require, like justice, truth, self-restraint,

stableness, generosity, mercy, humbleness,

devotion, patience, courage, strength—I have

none of them, but I have plenty of each

of the vices which act out in every way.

Don’t doubt it: if I had the power, I would

throw harmony to hell, upset the universal

peace, and defeat all unity on earth.

MACDUFF

O Scotland, Scotland!

Oh, Scotland! Scotland!

MALCOLM

If such a one be fit to govern, speak:

I am as I have spoken.

If you think such a person as me is fit

to rule, then say so. I am what I say I am.

MACDUFF

Fit to govern!

No, not to live. O nation miserable,

With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,

Since that the truest issue of thy throne

By his own interdiction stands accursed,

And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father

Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,

Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,

Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!

These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself

Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,

Thy hope ends here!

Fit to govern!

You are not even fit to live! Oh, miserable nation

with an untitled bloody-handed tyrant on the throne,

when will you see wholesome days again,

since the true birthright of the throne, by his

own admission, is cursed and a disgrace to his own

family. Your royal father, Duncan, was worthy

of being a saint. Your mother, the queen, was on

her knees in prayer more often than on her feet,

she felt so indifferent to worldly things. Good-bye!

These evils you say you have in yourself have

driven me out of Scotland. Oh, my heart.

The hope ends here!

MALCOLM

Macduff, this noble passion,

Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts

To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth

By many of these trains hath sought to win me

Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me

From over-credulous haste: but God above

Deal between thee and me! for even now

I put myself to thy direction, and

Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure

The taints and blames I laid upon myself,

For strangers to my nature. I am yet

Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,

Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,

At no time broke my faith, would not betray

The devil to his fellow and delight

No less in truth than life: my first false speaking

Was this upon myself: what I am truly,

Is thine and my poor country's to command:

Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,

Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,

Already at a point, was setting forth.

Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness

Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

Macduff, this noble outburst on your part reveals

your integrity. It’s wiped away the dark doubts

that were in my soul, and has restored thoughts

of you as truthful and honest. The devil, Macbeth,

has often tried to win me to his side with skills

of deception. Because of that, I try to be wise

and not believe too quickly. But with God’s blessing,

I would join with you. I take back all the things

I just told you about me. The faults I listed

are not in me. I am still a virgin, I’ve never lied.

I hardly care about the things I own, let alone

the possessions of others. I’ve never gone back

on my word, would not betray the devil himself,

and take as much pleasure in truth as I do in life.

Telling you the things I told you was my first lie.

Who I truly am is ready to be at your poor

country’s command. Indeed, before you came

here, old Siward and ten thousand soldiers

were already gathered and setting forth.

Now we can fight together, and may the chance

of success equal that of our justified dispute.

Why are you not saying anything?

MACDUFF

Such welcome and unwelcome things at once

'Tis hard to reconcile.

Such welcome and unwelcome things at once

is hard to come to terms with.

Enter a Doctor

MALCOLM

Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?

We’ll speak more soon.

Is King Edward coming out?

Doctor

Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls

That stay his cure: their malady convinces

The great assay of art; but at his touch—

Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--

They presently amend.

Yes, sir. There are a lot of sick people in

need of his cure. Their illness puzzles

modern medicine, but when he lays

his hands on them, the power invested

in him by heaven cures them.

MALCOLM

I thank you, doctor.

Thank you, doctor.

Exit Doctor

MACDUFF

What's the disease he means?

What disease does he mean?

MALCOLM

'Tis call'd the evil:

A most miraculous work in this good king;

Which often, since my here-remain in England,

I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,

Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,

All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,

The mere despair of surgery, he cures,

Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,

Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,

To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,

And sundry blessings hang about his throne,

That speak him full of grace.

It’s called ‘the evil.’

I’ve seen him do miraculous acts since I’ve been

in England. How he obtains help from heaven,

only he knows. But people with all sorts of symptoms—

swollen and full of ulcers, pitiful to look at,

beyond the help of surgery—he cures.

He hangs a golden stamp around their neck

and says holy prayers. It’s said that this ability

to heal will be passed along the royal lineage.

Along with this, he has the gift of being able

to see the future, and other sorts of gifts, as well.

He seems a king graced by God.

Enter ROSS

MACDUFF

See, who comes here?

Who is that coming here?

MALCOLM

My countryman; but yet I know him not.

He’s from Scotland, but I don’t know him yet.

MACDUFF

My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

My gentle cousin, welcome here.

MALCOLM

I know him now. Good God, betimes remove

The means that makes us strangers!

I recognize him now. Good God, it’s time

to remove the interventions that make us strangers!

ROSS

Sir, amen.

So be it, sir.

MACDUFF

Stands Scotland where it did?

Is Scotland still as it was?

ROSS

Alas, poor country!

Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot

Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,

But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;

Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air

Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems

A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell

Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives

Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying or ere they sicken.

Poor country! It’s almost afraid to know itself.

It cannot be called our mother any longer; it is our grave.

Where nobody smiles except those who know nothing.

Where sighs and groans and shrieks are made with

no notice. Where violent sorrow seems like ectasy.

When the bells ring for the funeral, people rarely

ask who it is. Good men die before the flowers

in their caps wilt. They die before they sicken.

MACDUFF

O, relation

Too nice, and yet too true!

Oh, my relative. Your report is nicely delivered, and too true.

MALCOLM

What's the newest grief?

What’s the latest news?

ROSS

That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:

Each minute teems a new one.

News an hour old disproves the speaker.

Every minute brings new news.

MACDUFF

How does my wife?

How is my wife?

ROSS

Why, well.

She is well.

MACDUFF

And all my children?

And all of my children?

ROSS

Well too.

They are also well.

MACDUFF

The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

The tyrant has not disturbed their peace?

ROSS

No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

No, they were well and at peace when I left them.

MACDUFF