The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (968 page)

BOOK: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
13.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

That was not born of woman? Such a one

Am I to fear, or none.

 

They have tied me to a stake. I cannot run.

Bear-like, I must fight.

Who is he that was not born of a woman?

That is the only one I am to fear.

 

Enter YOUNG SIWARD

YOUNG SIWARD

What is thy name?

 

What is your name?

 

MACBETH

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

 

You’ll be afraid once you hear it.

 

YOUNG SIWARD

No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name

Than any is in hell.

 

No, I won’t, even if it’s the worst name

than any that is in hell.

 

MACBETH

My name's Macbeth.

 

My name is Macbeth.

 

YOUNG SIWARD

The devil himself could not pronounce a title

More hateful to mine ear.

 

The devil himself does not have a name

that I hate more to hear.

 

MACBETH

No, nor more fearful.

 

No, and the devil’s name wouldn’t be more frightening.

 

YOUNG SIWARD

Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword

I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

 

You lie, hated tyrant. I will prove to you

with my sword that I am not afraid of you.

 

They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain

 

MACBETH

Thou wast born of woman

But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,

Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

 

You were born of a woman.

I laugh at weapons waved

by a man who was born of a woman.

 

Exit

 

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF

 

MACDUFF

That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!

If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,

My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.

I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms

Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,

Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge

I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;

By this great clatter, one of greatest note

Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!

And more I beg not.

 

The noise comes from over there. Tyrant, show your face!

If you are killed and I do not make the stroke that kills you.

my wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me forever.

I cannot waste my time fighting foot soldiers

who are paid to carry their swords. It’s either you,

Macbeth, or I will put my sword away un-used.

That’s where you should be, by the great noise

coming from there it sounds like someone

of note is being announced. Let me find him!

I will not ask for more.

 

Exit. Alarums

 

Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD

 

SIWARD

This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:

The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;

The noble thanes do bravely in the war;

The day almost itself professes yours,

And little is to do.

 

Come this way, my lord. The castle has been

surrendered. The tyrant’s people fight

for both sides. The noble thanes are

fighting bravely. Victory is near, and

there is little more to do.

 

MALCOLM

We have met with foes

That strike beside us.

 

We have met with foes who fight as if they are with us.

 

SIWARD

Enter, sir, the castle.

 

Enter the castle, sir.

 

Exeunt. Alarums

Another Part of the F
ield.

 

Enter MACBETH

 

MACBETH

Why should I play the Roman fool, and die

On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes

Do better upon them.

 

Why should I play the Roman fool, and die

by my own sword? As long as I sees others living,

the wounds will be better on them.

 

Enter MACDUFF

 

MACDUFF

Turn, hell-hound, turn!

 

Turn around, you hell-hound, turn around!

 

MACBETH

Of all men else I have avoided thee:

But get thee back; my soul is too much charged

With blood of thine already.

 

Of all the men I’ve avoided seeing, it is you.

But go away, now—my soul is already charged

with the blood of your entire family.

 

MACDUFF

I have no words:

My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain

Than terms can give thee out!

 

I have nothing to say. My voice is in my sword.

You are more evil than any words could say.

 

They fight

 

MACBETH

Thou losest labour:

As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air

With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:

Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;

I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,

To one of woman born.

 

You waste your labor.

You might as well try to slash the air

with your sword. You will not make me bleed.

I live a charmed life, and it will not yield

to a man born of woman.

 

MACDUFF

Despair thy charm;

And let the angel whom thou still hast served

Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb

Untimely ripp'd.

 

Lose hope about that charm, Macbeth.

Let the evil spirit who served you with that information

tell you: Macduff was ripped from his mother’s womb

prematurely.

 

MACBETH

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,

For it hath cow'd my better part of man!

And be these juggling fiends no more believed,

That palter with us in a double sense;

That keep the word of promise to our ear,

And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.

 

Curse you for telling me this! It has made

me into a coward! These deceptive evil spirits

are not to be believed. They talk insincerely

in a way that makes no sense. They made

promises to me, then dashed my hopes.

I won’t fight with you.

 

MACDUFF

Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:

We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,

Painted on a pole, and underwrit,

'Here may you see the tyrant.'

 

Then give up, you coward,

and live to be a freak in a show

to be looked at all the time like

other monsters. We’ll post a likeness

of you on a pole with the words underneath:

‘You can see the tyrant here.’

 

MACBETH

I will not yield,

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,

And to be baited with the rabble's curse.

Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,

And thou opposed, being of no woman born,

Yet I will try the last. Before my body

I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,

And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

 

I will not yield to you, only to kiss

the ground at young Malcolm’s feet,

or tormented by the common people.

Yes, Birnam wood did come to Dunsinane,

and I am fighting a man not born of woman.

Still, I will fight to the end. I put up my shield

to battle you. Come on, Macduff, and damned

be the one who cries first ‘Stop, enough!’

 

Exeunt, fighting. Alarums

Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers

 

MALCOLM

I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

 

I wish the friends we miss could have survived.

 

SIWARD

Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

 

Some are lost in every battle, but by the ones

I see, this victory didn’t cost much in lives.

 

MALCOLM

Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

 

Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

 

ROSS

Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:

He only lived but till he was a man;

The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd

In the unshrinking station where he fought,

But like a man he died.

 

Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier’s debt.

He only lived until he was a man, and no sooner

was his skill as a fighter obvious in the fearless

way he fought—he died like a man.

 

SIWARD

Then he is dead?

 

So he is dead?

 

ROSS

Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow

Must not be measured by his worth, for then

It hath no end.

 

Yes, and he has been brought off the field. Your grief

should not be measured by his worth, or it will never end.

 

SIWARD

Had he his hurts before?

 

Was he wounded on the front?

 

ROSS

Ay, on the front.

 

Yes, on the front.

 

SIWARD

Why then, God's soldier be he!

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so, his knell is knoll'd.

 

Well then, he is God’s soldier!

If I had as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them a better death.

So, his funeral bell shall be rung.

 

MALCOLM

He's worth more sorrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

 

He is worth more grief than that.

I will spend it for him.

 

Other books

Goody Two Shoes (Invertary Book 2) by Henderson, Janet Elizabeth
The Bar Code Rebellion by Suzanne Weyn
Creating Harmony by Viola Grace
Belong to You by Cheyenne McCray
The Last Kind Word by David Housewright
Ravenous Dusk by Goodfellow, Cody
Skin Walkers Conn by Susan A. Bliler