The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (191 page)

Thus, we end our attempt at telling this story of mighty men in such a little room. Unfortunately, we could not bring them their due glory. In the short time in which he lived, our hero was a great warrior and created the world’s greatest garden, France, leaving his son, Henry the Sixth, as ruler. While many had their hands in his affairs, France was lost and England at civil war, which has been portrayed on this stage before. So, please accept this play with your fair minds.

William Shakespeare’s

In Plain and Simple English

KING HENRY the Sixth

DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector

DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France

THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, great-uncle to the King

HENRY BEAUFORT, great-uncle to the King, Bishop of Winchester,

 and afterwards Cardinal

JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl, afterwards Duke, of Somerset

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard, late Earl of Cambridge,

 afterwards Duke of York

EARL OF WARWICK

EARL OF SALISBURY

EARL OF SUFFOLK

LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewbury

JOHN TALBOT, his son

EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March

SIR JOHN FASTOLFE

SIR WILLIAM LUCY

SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE

SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE

Mayor of London

WOODVILE, Lieutenant of the Tower

VERNON, of the White-Rose or York faction

BASSET, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction

A Lawyer, Mortimer's Keepers

CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France

REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples

DUKE OF BURGUNDY

DUKE OF ALENCON

BASTARD OF ORLEANS

Governor of Paris

Master-Gunner of Orleans and his Son

General of the French forces in Bordeaux

A French Sergeant  A Porter

An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle

MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to

King Henry

COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE

JOAN LA PUCELLE, Commonly called Joan of Arc

Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers,

Messengers, and Attendants

Fiends appearing to La Pucelle

SCENE: Partly in England, and partly in France

Westminster Abbey.

Dead March. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended

on

by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester,

Protector; the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of

Winchester, Heralds, &c.

BEDFORD.

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!

Comets, importing change of times and states,

Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,

And with them scourge the bad revolting stars

That have consented unto Henry's death!

King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!

England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.

Hang the skies with black, day give way to night!

Comets, showing the change of times and nations,

stream your crystal tails across the sky,

and with them whip the horrid rebellious stars

which agreed to let Henry die!

King Henry the Fifth, too great for a long life!

England never lost such a valuable king.

GLOUCESTER.

England ne'er had a king until his time.

Virtue he had, deserving to command:

His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams:

His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;

His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,

More dazzled and drove back his enemies

Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.

What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:

He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered.

England never had a true king until him.

He had goodness, he deserved to lead:

when he waved his sword it blinded men with its reflection:

his arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;

his sparkling eyes, full of angry fire,

drove back and dazzled his enemies

more than the midday sun shining straight in their faces.

What can I say? There are no words to express his great deeds:

he never moved without conquering.

EXETER.

We mourn in black:  why mourn we not in blood?

Henry is dead and never shall revive:

Upon a wooden coffin we attend,

And death's dishonourable victory

We with our stately presence glorify,

Like captives bound to a triumphant car.

What! shall we curse the planets of mishap

That plotted thus our glory's overthrow?

Or shall we think the subtle-witted French

Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him

By magic verses have contriv'd his end?

We mourn by wearing black: why do we not mourn by shedding blood?

Henry is dead and will never come back:

we are waiting on a wooden coffin,

and death's dishonourable victory

is being glorified by our stately presence,

like prisoners tied to a chariot in a triumph.

What! Are we going to think that unlucky stars

overthrew the glory of our king?

Or do we believe that the cunning French

magicians and sorcerers, through fear of him,

cast magic spells to bring about his death?

WINCHESTER.

He was a king bless'd of the King of kings;

Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day

So dreadful will not be as was his sight.

The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:

The Church's prayers made him so prosperous.

He was a king blessed by Jesus;

the French won't find Judgement Day

as terrible as facing him.

He fought his battles for God:

the prayers of the church ensured his success.

GLOUCESTER.

The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd,

His thread of life had not so soon decay'd:

None do you like but an effeminate prince,

Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe.

The church! Where are they? If the churchmen hadn't prayed,

he would not have died so soon:

all you want is a girlish prince,

whom you can dominate like a schoolboy.

WINCHESTER.

Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art Protector,

And lookest to command the Prince and realm.

Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,

More than God or religious churchmen may.

Gloucester, whatever we want, you are Regent,

and you have command over the Prince and the country.

Your wife is arrogant; she's the one who dominates you,

more than God or religious churchmen can.

GLOUCESTER.

Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh,

And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st,

Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Do not speak of religion, for you love worldly things,

and you never go to church at any time of year,

except to say prayers against your enemies.

BEDFORD.

Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace:

Let's to the altar:  heralds, wait on us:

Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms;

Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead.

Posterity, await for wretched years,

When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck,

Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,

And none but women left to wail the dead.

Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:

Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,

Combat with adverse planets in the heavens!

A far more glorious star thy soul will make