The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (218 page)

SUFFOLK. O, wert thou for myself!  But, Suffolk, stay;

Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;

There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.

Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:

Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,

And natural graces that extinguish art;

Repeat their semblance often on the seas,

That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,

Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.

I wish you were mine! But, stop, Suffolk;

you mustn't wander in that labyrinth;

there are Minotaurs and ugly treason in there.

Tell Henry how wonderful she is:

think of her surpassing virtues,

and her natural graces that excel all art;

keep thinking of them when you are sailing,

so that when you come to kneel at Henry's feet,

you can astonish him out of his wits.

[Exit.]

[Enter York, Warwick, and others.]

YORK.

Bring forth that sorceress condemn'd to burn.

[Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shepherd.]

Bring out that witch who is condemned to burn.

SHEPHERD.

Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!

Have I sought every country far and near,

And now it is my chance to find thee out,

Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I 'll die with thee!

Ah, Joan, this will kill your father completely!

I have looked for you in every place, far and near,

and now I have managed to find you,

is it only to witness your untimely cruel death?

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with you!

PUCELLE.

Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood:

Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.

You useless low and wretched scum!

I come from more noble blood:

you are no father and no friend of mine.

SHEPHERD.

Out, out! My lords, as please you, 'tis not so;

I did beget her, all the parish knows.

Her mother liveth yet, can testify

She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.

Enough of that! My lords, if you please, this is not true;

I fathered her, the whole parish knows it.

Her mother is still alive, and can give evidence

that she was my first child when I was an apprentice.

WARWICK.

Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?

You have no grace! Will you deny your parentage?

YORK.

This argues what her kind of life hath been,

Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

This shows what kind of life she's led,

wicked and  horrible; and now her death will end it.

SHEPHERD.

Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!

God knows thou art a collop of my flesh;

And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:

Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.

Oh, Joan, why do you have to be so obstinate!

God knows that you are made from my flesh;

for your sake I have often cried:

do not deny me, please, gentle Joan.

PUCELLE.

Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man,

Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

Peasant, clear off! You have bribed this man,

on purpose to hide my noble birth.

SHEPHERD.

'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest

The morn that I was wedded to her mother.

Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.

Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time

Of thy nativity!  I would the milk

Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast,

Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!

Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,

I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!

Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?

O, burn her, burn her! hanging is too good.

It's true, I did give a noble to the priest

the morning I married her mother.

Kneel down and take my blessing, my good girl.

Will you not kneel? Now may your birth

be cursed! I wish the milk

your mother gave you when you suckled at her breast

had been  rat poison!

Or otherwise, when you guarded my lambs in the fields,

I wish some hungry wolf had eaten you!

Do you deny your father, damned slut?

Oh, burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good for her.

[Exit.]

YORK.

Take her away; for she hath lived too long,

To fill the world with vicious qualities.

Take her away; she has lived too long,

filling the world with her viciousness.

PUCELLE.

First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,

But issued from the progeny of kings;

Virtuous and holy; chosen from above,

By inspiration of celestial grace,

To work exceeding miracles on earth.

I never had to do with wicked spirits:

But you, that are polluted with your lusts,

Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,

Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,

Because you want the grace that others have,

You judge it straight a thing impossible

To compass wonders but by help of devils.

No, misconceived!  Joan of Arc hath been

A virgin from her tender infancy,

Chaste and immaculate in very thought;

Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused,

Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.

First let me tell you whom you have condemned:

I was not born of a shepherd,

but came from a line of kings;

good and holy; chosen by God,

through the inspiration of heaven,

to do great miracles on earth.

I never associated with wicked spirits:

but you, who are polluted with lust,

stained with the blood of innocents,

corrupted and tainted with a thousand vices,

because you are lacking the grace that others have,

you think it's completely impossible

to work miracles except with the help of devils.

No, you don't understand! Joan of Arc has been

a virgin since she was born:

chaste and immaculate in every thought;

if you spill her maiden blood it will

cry out for revenge at the gates of heaven.

YORK.

Aye, aye:  away with her to execution!

Yes, yes: take her away to be executed!

WARWICK.

And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,

Spare for no faggots, let there be enow:

Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,

That so her torture may be shortened.

And listen, sirs; because she is a girl,

make sure there is a good fire:

put barrels of tar on the execution stake,

so that her torture can be shortened.

PUCELLE.

Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?

Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity,

That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.

I am with child, ye bloody homicides:

Murder not then the fruit within my womb,

Although ye hale me to a violent death.

Will nothing change your stony hearts?

Then, Joan, tell of your illness,

that gives you privileges by law.

I am pregnant, you bloody murderers:

so don't murder the child in my womb,

even though you are dragging me to a violent death.

YORK.

Now heaven forfend! the holy maid with child!

Heaven forbid! The holy maid is pregnant!

WARWICK.

The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:

Is all your strict preciseness come to this?

The greatest miracle that you ever did:

has all your good behaviour come to this?

YORK.

She and the Dauphin have been juggling:

I did imagine what would be her refuge.

She and the Dauphin have been up to no good:

I imagine that this would be her excuse.

WARWICK.

Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live;

Especially since Charles must father it.

Well, carry on; we don't want any bastards to survive;

especially if Charles is the father of it.

PUCELLE.

You are deceived; my child is none of his:

It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.

You are mistaken; my child is not his:

it was Alencon who enjoyed my love.

YORK.

Alencon! that notorious Machiavel!

It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

Alencon! That notorious Machiavelli!

We shall kill it, if it had a thousand lives.

PUCELLE.

O, give me leave, I have deluded you:

'Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I named,

But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd.

Oh, excuse me, I lied to you:

it wasn't Charles or the Duke I mentioned,

but Reignier, King of Naples, who triumphed.

WARWICK.

A married man! that's most intolerable.

A married man! We can't have that.

YORK.

Why, here's a girl!  I think she knows not well

There were so many, whom she may accuse.

Why, here's a girl! I think she's had so many

she doesn't know who to accuse.

WARWICK.

It's sign she hath been liberal and free.

It's obvious she has been very generous with her affections.

YORK.

And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.

Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee:

Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

And yet, by God, she is a pure virgin.