The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (164 page)

BOOK: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
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we will be taking our swords and our native passion

into France: I've heard rumours of it,

and I think the King liked the idea.

Come, shall we go there?

 

[Exeunt.]

 

 

EPILOGUE.

 

Spoken by a Dancer.

 

First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. My fear is, your

displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your

pardons.  If you look for a good speech now, you undo me:  for

what I have to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I

should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the

purpose, and so to the venture.  Be it known to you, as it is very

well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray

your patience for it and to promise you a better. I meant indeed to

pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily

home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised

you I would be and here I commit my body to your mercies:  bate me

some and I will pay you some and, as most debtors do, promise you

infinitely.

 

If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to

use my legs? and yet that were but light payment, to dance out of

your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction,

and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me:  if the

gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the

gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly.

 

One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloy'd with fat

meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it,

and make you merry with fair Katharine of France:  where, for any

thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already a' be

killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this

is not the man.

My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night:

and so kneel down before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.

 

First, my fear; then, my curtsy; last, my speech.

What I fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy is what I must do,

and my speech, is to ask for your pardon. If you're looking for a

good speech now, you'll be disappointed, for what I have to

say I have written myself; and what I should say will,

I fear, make me look bad. But to

get to the point, I'll chance it. You should know that

I was recently here for the end of a disappointing play,

to ask you to excuse me for it, and to

promise you a better one. I meant to pay off that promise

with this; if like an unsuccessful trading voyage it doesn't bring back

a profit, I go bankrupt, and you, my kind creditors,

lose. I promised you I would be here, and here I am

to offer my body to your mercy. Let me off some of my debt,

and I will pay you some, and as most people who owe money do,

I promise you you will be paid sometime: and so I kneel down before you–

but only, in fact, to pray for the Queen.

If I can't get your forgiveness with my words, would you

like me to give you a dance? But that's only a small payment,

to try and dance off your debt. But in order to have a

clear conscience one should do one's best to give any possible payment,

and that's what I want to do. All the gentlewomen here have

forgiven me: if the gentlemen won't, then the gentlemen

do not agree with the gentlewomen, and that's never been

seen in any theatre before.

One more word, I beg you. If you are not too

full up with fatty meat, our humble author will

continue the story, with Sir John in it, and please you

by showing you fair Katherine of France; in that play,

for all I know, Falstaff shall die of a fever, unless

you've already killed him with your harsh opinions; for

Oldcastle died as a martyr, and this isn't as good a man at him. My

tongue is tired; when my legs are too I shall say good night to you.

 

William Shakespeare

 

 

Chorus

 

King Henry V
-Recent crowned king of England.

 

The Dukes of Exeter, Westmorland, Salisbury, and Warwick
-Advisors of King Henry and military leaders.

 

The Dukes of Clarence, Bedford and Gloucester
-Brothers of King Henry

 

The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely
-English Clergymen

 

Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey-
Conspirators against King Henry.

 

York and Suffolk-
Noble cousins.

 

The King of France-
Charles VI.

 

Isabel-
Queen of France.

 

The Dauphin-
Son of the king of France.

 

Catherine-
Daughter of the king of France.

 

French noblemen and military leaders-
Constable of France, the Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Britain, the Duke of Bourbon, the Earl of Grandpre, Lord Rambures, the Duke of Burgandy, and the Governor of Harfleur.

 

Sir Thomas Erpingham-
War veteran serving King Henry.

 

Captain Gower-
Army Captain.

 

Captain Fluellen, Captain Macmorris, and Captain Jamy-
Captains of King Henry’s troops.

 

Ancient Pistol-
London Commoner serving King Henry.

 

Bardolph
-Friend of Pistol.

 

Nim-
London commoner serving King Henry.

 

Boy

 

Michael Williams, John Bates, and Alexander Court-
Common soldiers.

 

Hostess-
Keeper of the Boar’s Head Tavern.

 

Alice
-Maid of Princess Catherine.

 

Montjoy
-French herald.

 

Monsieur le Fer-
French soldier.

 

 

 

 

Chorus

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend

The brightest heaven of invention,

A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,

And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,

Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,

Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire

Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,

The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd

On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth

So great an object. Can this cockpit hold

The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram

Within this wooden O the very casques

That did affright the air at Agincourt?

O, pardon! since a crooked figure may

Attest in little place a million;

And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,

On your imaginary forces work.

Suppose within the girdle of these walls

Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,

Whose high upreared and abutting fronts

The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder;

Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:

Into a thousand parts divide one man,

And make imaginary puissance;

Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them

Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.

For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,

Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,

Turning the accomplishment of many years

Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,

Admit me Chorus to this history;

Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray,

Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

 

With the help of the Muse of fire, we present a kingdom on a stage where princes will act and kings will hold war. We bring to you the vast fields of France on this small stage to represent the frightening scene of Agincourt. Try to imagine two might monarchies separated by an ocean. Overlook the imperfections and imagine the horses when we talk of them with their proud hooves pounding the earth. Focus on the epic story we have summarized for the sake of time. Listen and judge our play.

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