The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (286 page)

And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.--

Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!

How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!

You have no children, butchers! if you had,

The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse;

But, if you ever chance to have a child,

Look in his youth to have him so cut off

As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!

Oh Ned! Sweet Ned! Speak to your mother, boy.

Can't you speak? Oh traitors! Murderers!

Those who stabbed Caesar shed no blood,

did no crime and did not deserve blame,

if this horrid deed was nearby to compare with it.

He was a man: this one here was a child,

and men never attack children.

What name can I use that's worse than murderer?

No, no, my heart will burst if I speak;

and I will speak, so that my heart can burst.

Butchers and villains! Bloody cannibals!

What a sweet plant you have cut down before its prime!

You butchers, you have no children! If you had,

the thought of them would have made you hold back;

but, if you ever do have a child,

you shall lose him when he is still a youth,

in the same way that you have dispatched this sweet young prince!

KING EDWARD.

Away with her! go, bear her hence perforce.

Take her away! Go, drag her away.

QUEEN MARGARET.

Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here;

Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death.

What! wilt thou not?--then, Clarence, do it thou.

No, don't take me away, kill me here;

put your sword in me, I'll forgive you for my death.

What! You won't? Then, Clarence, you do it.

CLARENCE.

By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.

By heaven, I wouldn't give you the comfort.

QUEEN MARGARET.

Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do

it.

Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, you do it.

CLARENCE.

Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Didn't you hear me swear that I wouldn't?

QUEEN MARGARET.

Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself;

'T was sin before, but now 't is charity.

What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,

Hard-favour'd Richard?--Richard, where art thou?

Thou art not here; murther is thy alms-deed,

Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back.

Yes, but you are used to breaking your oaths;

it was a sin before, but now it would be a kindness.

What! You won't? Where is the devil's butcher,

hard-faced Richard? Richard, where are you?

You are not here; murder is your form of charity,

you never refuse people asking for bloodshed.

KING EDWARD.

Away, I say! I charge ye, bear her hence.

Take her away, I say! I order you, take her off.

QUEEN MARGARET.

So come to you and yours as to this prince!

May what happened to this prince happen to you and yours!

[She is taken out.]

KING EDWARD.

Where's Richard gone?

Where's Richard gone?

CLARENCE.

To London, all in post, and, as I guess,

To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

To London, in a great hurry, and, I'm guessing,

meaning to shed some blood in the Tower.

KING EDWARD.

He's sudden if a thing comes in his head.

Now march we hence; discharge the common sort

With pay and thanks, and let's away to London,

And see our gentle queen how well she fares.

By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

He acts quickly when he gets an idea.

Let's march there; discharge the common soldiers

with pay and thanks, and let's go to London,

and see how my sweet queen is.

By this time, I hope, she will have a son for me.

[Exeunt.]

[KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the

Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER.]

GLOSTER.

Good day, my lord. What! at your book so hard?

Good day, my lord. What, studying so hard?

KING HENRY.

Ay, my good lord;--my lord, I should say rather.

'T is sin to flatter; 'good' was little better.

Good Gloster and good devil were alike,

And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord.

Yes, my good lord; my lord, I should say.

It's a sin to flatter; “good" was like flattery.

Good Gloucester and the good devil are alike,

and both appalling; so, not good lord.

GLOSTER.

Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer.

Sir, leave us alone; we must talk.

[Exit Lieutenant.]

KING HENRY.

So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,

And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.--

What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

So the careless shepherd runs away from the wolf;

so the harmless sheep first offers his fleece

and then his throat to the knife of the butcher.

What scene of death is Roscius now going to act?

GLOSTER.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;

The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

Suspicion is always in the guilty mind;

the thief sees a constable in every bush.

KING HENRY.

The bird that hath been limed in a bush

With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;

And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,

Have now the fatal object in my eye

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

The bird that has been trapped in a bush

is right to be afraid of every bush;

and I, the unlucky husband of one sweet bird,

am looking at the cause of my poor young

one being trapped and killed.

GLOSTER.

Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete

That taught his son the office of a fowl!

And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

Why, what a stupid idiot that man in Crete was

who taught his son to fly like a bird!

And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drowned.

KING HENRY.

I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;

Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;

The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,

Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea

Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.

Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!

My breast can better brook thy dagger's point

Than can my ears that tragic history.

But wherefore dost thou come? is 't for my life?

I am Daedalus; my poor boy is Icarus;

your father is Minos, who stopped our journey;

the sun that burnt the wings of my sweet boy

is your brother Edward; and you are the sea

whose jealous mouth swallowed up his life.

Ah, kill me with your weapon, not with words!

My chest is better able to stand the point of your dagger

than my ears can stand to hear that tragic story.

But why have you come? Have you come to take my life?

GLOSTER.

Think'st thou I am an executioner?

Do you think I am an executioner?

KING HENRY.

A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;

If murdering innocents be executing,

Why, then thou are an executioner.

I am sure that you are a persecutor;

if murdering innocent people is executing,

then you are an executioner.

GLOSTER.

Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

I killed your son for his arrogance.

KING HENRY.

Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.

And thus I prophesy,--that many a thousand,

Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,

And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's,

And many an orphan's water-standing eye,--

Men for their sons', wives for their husbands' fate,

And orphans for their parents' timeless death,--

Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.

The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;

The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;

Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,

And chatt'ring pies in dismal discord sung.

Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,

And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,

An indigested and deformed lump,

Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,

To signify thou cam'st to bite the world;

And, if the rest be true which I have heard,

Thou cam'st--

If you had been killed when you first showed arrogance,

you wouldn't have been alive to kill a son of mine.

And I prophesy this; that many thousands–

who now do not share any part of my fears,

many old men's sighs and those of widows,

and many tears in the eyes of orphans,

men crying for their sons, wives for their husbands,

and orphans for their parents' untimely death–

will regret the fact that you were ever born.

When you were born an owl shrieked, an evil sign;

the night crow cawed, signalling an unhappy time;

dogs howled, and a terrible storm blew down trees;

the raven sat on the chimney top,

and chattering magpies sang a dismal song.

Your mother felt more than the usual pain of childbirth,

but gave birth to less than a mother would hope for,

an unfinished and deformed lump,

not like the fruits of such a good tree.