The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (131 page)

[Enter Lord Bardolph.]

LORD BARDOLPH.

Who keeps the gate here, ho?

[The Porter opens the gate.]

Where is the earl?

Where's the gatekeeper?

Where is the Earl?

PORTER.

What shall I say you are?

Who shall I say you are?

LORD BARDOLPH.

Tell thou the earl

That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.

Go and tell the earl

that Lord Bardolph is waiting for him here.

PORTER.

His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard:

Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,

And he himself will answer.

His Lordship is strolling in the orchard:

if your honour would just like to knock at the gate,

he will answer it himself.

[Enter Northumberland.]

LORD BARDOLPH.

Here comes the earl.

Here comes the Earl.

[Exit Porter.]

NORTHUMBERLAND.

What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem:

The times are wild; contention, like a horse

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose

And bears down all before him.

What's the news, Lord Bardolph? There should be

action being taken every minute:

these are wild times; conflict, like a horse

full of rich food, has madly broken loose,

and is destroying everything

LORD BARDOLPH.

Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

Noble Earl,

I've brought you definite news from Shrewsbury.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Good, an God will!

Please God say it's good news!

LORD BARDOLPH.

As good as heart can wish:

The king is almost wounded to the death;

And, in the fortune of my lord your son,

Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts

Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John,

And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field:

And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,

Is prisoner to your son:  O, such a day,

So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won,

Came not till now to dignify the times,

Since Caesar's fortunes!

As good as the heart could wish for:

the King has been wounded, almost killed;

and as for the fate of my lord your son,

he has killed Prince Harry, and both the Blunts

have been killed by Douglas; young Prince John

fled from the battlefield with Westmorland and Stafford:

and Harry Monmouth's strongman, the great lump Sir John,

is held prisoner by your son: there hasn't been a day

of fighting, of such great victory,

that has so enhanced the glory of the times

since Caesar's triumphs!

NORTHUMBERLAND.

How is this derived?

Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

How did this happen?

Did you see the battle? Have you come from Shrewsbury?

LORD BARDOLPH.

I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,

A gentleman well bred and of good name,

That freely render'd me these news for true.

My Lord, I spoke to someone who came from there,

a well bred gentleman of good family

who gladly told me that this news was true.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent

last Tuesday to discover the news.

[Enter Travers.]

LORD BARDOLPH.

My lord, I over-rode him on the way;

And he is furnish'd with no certainties

More than he haply may retail from me.

My Lord, I overtook him on the way;

he has no other news than what

I have already given you.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?

Now, Travers, what good news do you bring?

TRAVERS.

My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back

With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,

Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard

A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,

That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.

He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him

I did demand what news from Shrewsbury:

He told me that rebellion had bad luck

And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.

With that, he gave his able horse the head,

And bending forward struck his armed heels

Against the panting sides of his poor jade

Up to the rowel-head, and starting so

He seem'd in running to devour the way,

Staying no longer question.

My Lord, Sir John Umfrevile send me back

with happy news; and, having a better horse,

he out rode me. After him a gentleman came

riding hard, almost exhausted with his speed,

who stopped next to me to rest his winded horse.

He asked the way to Chester; and I asked him

what news there was from Shrewsbury:

he told me that the rebellion had suffered misfortunes

and that young Harry Percy's efforts had failed.

Saying that, he gave his vigourous horse its head,

and leaning forward jabbed his spurs

into the panting sides of his poor nag

up to the stops, and galloped off so fast

he seemed to be eating up the road,

he didn't stop for me to ask any more questions.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Ha! Again:

Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?

Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion

Had met ill luck?

Ha! Tell me again:

he said young Harry Percy's efforts had failed?

That Hotspur was Coldspur? That the rebellion

had suffered misfortunes?

LORD BARDOLPH.

My lord, I'll tell you what;

If my young lord your son have not the day,

Upon mine honour, for a silken point

I'll give my barony:  never talk of it.

My lord, I'll tell you what;

if my young lord, your son, has not won,

I'll swap my baronetcy for a silk shoelace,

I swear it: don't believe it.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers

Give then such instances of loss?

Then why should the gentleman who rode past Travers

say the battle was lost?

LORD BARDOLPH.

Who, he?

He was some hilding fellow that had stolen

The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,

Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.

Who was he?

Some worthless fellow who had stolen

the horse he was riding, and, I swear,

was just guessing. Look, here comes more news.

[Enter Morton.]

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,

Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:

So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood

Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

I can read this man's face like a title page,

telling of the tragic story to follow:

his brow is furrowed like a beach

which has been battered by the waves of the storm.

Tell me, Morton, did you come from Shrewsbury?

MORTON.
 

I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;

Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask

To fright our party.

I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble Lord;

where horrible death had shown his worst

face, to terrify our side.

NORTHUMBERLAND.

How doth my son and brother?

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek

Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,

So dull, so dread in look, so woe-begone,

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;

But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,

And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.

This thou wouldst say:  "Your son did thus and thus;

Your brother thus:  so fought the noble Douglas:"

Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:

But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,

Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,

Ending with "Brother, son, and all are dead."

How are my son and brother?

You're shaking; the paleness of your cheeks

tell me what's happened better than speech could.

You are like the man, so faint, so lacking in spirit,

so dull, with such a terrible look, so sad,

who drew back Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

and was going to tell him that half of Troy had burnt down;

but Priam guessed about the fire before he was told,

and I can guess the death of my Percy before you report it.

You're going to say this: “your son did this and that;

your brother did this: this is how the noble Douglas fought:"

filling my greedy ears up with their great deeds:

but in the end my ears will certainly be blocked,

with words which will make me forget all this praise,

you shall end with, “Brother, son and everyone else are dead."

MORTON.

Douglas is living, and your brother, yet:

But, for my lord your son,--

Douglas is alive, and so is your brother:

but as for my lord your son–

NORTHUMBERLAND.

Why, he is dead.

See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!

He that but fears the thing he would not know

Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes

That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;

Tell thou an earl his divination lies,

And I will take it as a sweet disgrace

And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.

Why, he is dead.

See how quickly suspicion speaks to us!

Someone who is frightened by something he doesn't want to know

can instinctively pick up the news from the eyes of others

that tell him what he feared has happened. But speak, Morton;

tell this earl that his guess is wrong,

and I will be delighted to be proved so

and I shall make you rich for contradicting me.

MORTON.

You are too great to be by me gainsaid:

Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.