The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (265 page)

No, and it wasn't your manhood that made you stay.

RICHARD.

Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.

Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain

The execution of my big-swoln heart

Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Northumberland, I respect you.

Stop this talking; I can hardly stop myself

following my aching heart and attacking

that Clifford, that cruel child killer.

CLIFFORD.

I slew thy father; call'st thou him a child?

I killed your father; are you calling him a child?

RICHARD.

Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland,

But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.

Yes, like a horrible and treacherous coward,

in the same way that you killed our young brother Rutland,

but before the sun sets I will make you regret what you've done.

KING HENRY.

Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

That's enough arguing, my lords, listen to me.

QUEEN MARGARET.

Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.

Attack them then, otherwise don't speak.

KING HENRY.

I prithee, give no limits to my tongue;

I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.

Please don't tell me what I can and can't say;

I am a king, and I have the right to speak.

CLIFFORD.

My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.

My lord, the business which has brought us here

cannot be solved with words; so be quiet.

RICHARD.

Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword.

By him that made us all, I am resolv'd

That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Then, executioner, take out your sword.

I swear by God that I believe

that all Clifford's manliness rests in his words.

EDWARD.

Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no?

A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day

That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.

Say, Henry, whether I shall have my rights or not.

a thousand men have breakfasted today

who will never eat dinner unless you give up the crown.

WARWICK.

If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;

For York in justice puts his armour on.

If you deny him, their blood is on your head;

for York has every right to fight.

PRINCE.

If that be right which Warwick says is right,

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

If what Warwick says is right

nothing is wrong, everything is right.

RICHARD.

Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;

For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

Whoever your father is, that is your mother speaking;

I can see that you have your mother's tongue.

QUEEN MARGARET.

But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam,

But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,

Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,

As venom toads or lizards' dreadful stings.

But you are neither like your father nor mother,

you are like a disgusting misshapen cursed thing,

marked out by fate to be avoided,

like a venomous toad or the dreadful stings of a lizard.

RICHARD.

Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,

Whose father bears the title of a king,--

As if a channel should be call'd the sea,--

Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,

To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

Iron of Naples covered over with English gilt,

whose father has the title of the King–

as if the stream should be called the sea–

aren't you ashamed, knowing your ancestry,

to let your tongue betray the lowliness of your heart?

EDWARD.

A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns

To make this shameless callat know herself.--

Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,

Although thy husband may be Menelaus;

And ne'er was Agamemmon's brother wrong'd

By that false woman as this king by thee.

His father revell'd in the heart of France,

And tam'd the king, and made the dauphin stoop;

And, had he match'd according to his state,

He might have kept that glory to this day;

But when he took a beggar to his bed,

And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day,

Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him

That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France

And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride?

Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;

And we, in pity of the gentle king,

Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

A wisp of straw would be worth a thousand crowns

if it helps this shameless peasant to know herself–

Helen of Greece was more beautiful than by far,

although your husband could be Menelaus;

Agamemnon's brother was never so insulted

by that false woman as this king is by you.

His father swept through the heart of France,

and tamed the King, and made the Dauphin bow;

and, if he had married according to his position,

he might still have that glory now;

but when he took a beggar into his bed,

and elevated your poor father with his marriage,

at once the storm clouds started gathering

which washed his father's gains right out of France

and brought rebellion against his crown at home.

What started this storm apart from your pride?

If you had been humble, I wouldn't be claiming this title;

and we, pitying this gentle king,

would have left our claim until another time.

GEORGE.

But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,

And that thy summer bred us no increase,

We set the axe to thy usurping root;

And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,

Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,

We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down

Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.

But when we saw that you were flourishing in our place,

and that you would not share any of your gains with us,

we put the axe to your usurping root;

and though the blade has done us some damage,

you must know that since we have begun to strike

we shall never stop until we have chopped you down

or drowned your growth in our hot blood.

EDWARD.

And in this resolution I defy thee;

Not willing any longer conference,

Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.--

Sound trumpets;--let our bloody colours wave,

And either victory or else a grave!

And with this resolution I defy you;

I don't want to talk any longer,

since you will not let the gentle King speak–

sound the trumpets; let our bloody colours fly,

and let us find victory or otherwise a grave!

QUEEN MARGARET.

Stay, Edward.

Wait, Edward.

EDWARD.

No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay;

These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.

No, argumentative woman, we shall not wait any longer;

these words will cost ten thousand lives today.

[Exeunt.]

[Alarums. Excursions. Enter WARWICK.]

WARWICK.

Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,

I lay me down a little while to breathe;

For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid,

Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,

And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.

Exhausted with work, like a runner in a race,

I shall lay down a little while to catch my breath;

my strong muscles have lost my strength

through the blows they have received, and the ones they've given back,

and, despite my anger, I must rest for a while.

[Enter EDWARD, running.]

EDWARD.

Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death!

For this world frowns and Edward's sun is clouded.

Gentle heaven, smile on me, or let unkind death strike me down!

The world frowns and the sun of Edward is clouded over.

WARWICK.

How now, my lord? what hap? what hope of good?

What's that, my lord? What's going on? What are our chances?

[Enter GEORGE.]

GEORGE.

Our hap is lost, our hope but sad despair;

Our ranks are broke and ruin follows us.

What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?

Everything is lost, we have no hope;

our ranks have broken and destruction pursues us.

What advice do you give? Where shall we run to?

EDWARD.

Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings;

And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.

It's useless to flee, they shall catch us;

we are weak and cannot escape their pursuit.

[Enter RICHARD.]

RICHARD.

Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?

Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,

Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance;

And in the very pangs of death he cried,

Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,

'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!'

So, underneath the belly of their steeds

That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,

The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

Ah Warwick, why have you retreated?

The thirsty earth has drunk the blood of your brother,

which was let out by the steel point of Clifford's lance;