The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (727 page)

BOOK: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
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as for the future, I don't worry about it.

Now, there's a prize!

 

Clown

Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod

yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred

shorn. what comes the wool to?

 

Let me see: every eleven fleeces makes a tod; every tod

pays a pound and a shilling; fifteen hundred

sheep sheared, how much does that come to?  

 

AUTOLYCUS

[Aside]

If the springe hold, the cock's mine.

 

If the trap works, this bird is mine.

 

Clown

I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am

I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound

of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will

this sister of mine do with rice? But my father

hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it

on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for

the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good

ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but

one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to

horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden

pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note;

nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I

may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of

raisins o' the sun.

 

I need an abacus for it. Let me see; what should

I buy for our sheep shearing celebrations? Three pounds

 of sugar, five pounds of currents, rice–what does

that sister of my mine want with rice? But my father

has put her in charge of the feast, and she does it

well. She has made me twenty-four bouquets for

the shearers, all harmonious singers, and very good

ones; but most of them are tenors and basses; there is only

one treble amongst them and he's a puritan who sings psalms

accompanied by the hornpipe. I must have saffron to colour the apple pies;

mace; dates, no no dates–that's not on my list; seven

nutmegs; one or two ginger roots, but I can scrounge those;

four pounds of prunes, and the same of sun-dried raisins.

 

AUTOLYCUS

O that ever I was born!

 

Grovelling on the ground

 

Alas that I was ever born!

 

Clown

I' the name of me!

 

Well, for the life of me!

 

AUTOLYCUS

O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and

then, death, death!

 

Oh, help me, help me! Just tear off these rags; and

then, give me death, death!

 

Clown

Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay

on thee, rather than have these off.

 

Alas, poor soul! You need more rags to put

round you, rather than take these ones off.

 

AUTOLYCUS

O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more

than the stripes I have received, which are mighty

ones and millions.

 

Oh sir, their foulness upsets me more

than the blows I have been given, of which

I've had millions of severe ones.

 

Clown

Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a

great matter.

 

Alas, poor man! A million beatings is a

serious business.

 

AUTOLYCUS

I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel

ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon

me.

 

I have been robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and clothes

taken from me, and these horrible things put on me.

 

Clown

What, by a horseman, or a footman?

 

Was the robber mounted or on foot?

 

AUTOLYCUS

A footman, sweet sir, a footman.

 

He was a footpad, sweet sir, a footpad.

 

Clown

Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he

has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat,

it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand,

I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.

 

Indeed, these garments he has left with you show that

he was a footpad: if this is the coat of a horseman

it's seen a lot of service. Give me your hand,

I'll help you: come on, give me your hand.

 

AUTOLYCUS

O, good sir, tenderly, O!

 

Oh, good sir, gently, oh!

 

Clown

Alas, poor soul!

 

Alas, poor soul!

 

AUTOLYCUS

O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my

shoulder-blade is out.

 

Oh, good sir, gently, good sir! I fear, sir, I've

dislocated my collarbone.

 

Clown

How now! canst stand?

 

How's that! Can you stand?

 

AUTOLYCUS

[Picking his pocket]

Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha' done me

a charitable office.

 

Gently, dear sir; dear sir, gently. You have done me

a great favour.

 

Clown

Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

 

Have you no money? I can give you a little.

 

AUTOLYCUS

No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have

a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence,

unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or

any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you;

that kills my heart.

 

No, good sweet sir; no, I beg you, sir: I have

kinsman not more than three quarters of a mile away,

whom I was going to see; he should give me money, or

anything I want: please don't offer me any money;

that would break my heart.

 

Clown

What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?

 

What sort of chap was the one who robbed you?

 

AUTOLYCUS

A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with

troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the

prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his

virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

 

A fellow, sir, whom I have seen running a booth

at the fair; I know that he was once a servant of the

prince: I don't know, good sir, which of his virtues

it was for, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

 

Clown

His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped

out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay

there; and yet it will no more but abide.

 

His vices, you should say; they don't whip virtue

out of the court: they love to keep it

there; but it only stops for a moment.

 

AUTOLYCUS

Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he

hath been since an ape-bearer; then a

process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a

motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's

wife within a mile where my land and living lies;

and, having flown over many knavish professions, he

settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.

 

Yes, I should say vices, sir. I know this man well: since

then he has been a monkey trainer; then a

process server, a bailiff;

then he acquired a puppet show about the prodigal son,

 and married a tinker's wife within a mile of my land and estate;

and, having tried many dodgy professions, he

took up villainy: some call him Autolycus.

 

Clown

Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts

wakes, fairs and bear-baitings.

 

Damn him! A tinker and a thief, I swear: he hangs around

festivals, fairs and the bear baiting.

 

AUTOLYCUS

Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that

put me into this apparel.

 

Very true, sir; him, sir, him; that's the scoundrel who

dressed me like this.

 

Clown

Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had

but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run.

 

There is no more cowardly rascal in all of Bohemia: if you had

just stood tall and spat at him, he'd have run away.

 

AUTOLYCUS

I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am

false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant

him.

 

I must confess to you, sir, I am not a fighter: I am

a terrible coward in that way; and I'm sure that he knew that.

 

Clown

How do you now?

 

How are you now?

 

AUTOLYCUS

Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and

walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace

softly towards my kinsman's.

 

Dear sir, much better than I was; I can stand and

walk: I will now say goodbye, and walk

gently to my kinsman's.

 

Clown

Shall I bring thee on the way?

 

Do you want me to come with you?

 

AUTOLYCUS

No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.

 

No, kind faced sir; no, sweet sir.

 

Clown

Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our

sheep-shearing.

 

Then goodbye: I must go and buy spices for our

sheep shearing festival.

 

AUTOLYCUS

Prosper you, sweet sir!

 

Exit Clown

Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice.

I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I

make not this cheat bring out another and the

shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name

put in the book of virtue!

 

Sings

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,

And merrily hent the stile-a:

A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

 

Exit

May you be blessed, sweet sir!

 

There's not enough in your purse to buy your spices.

I'll come to your sheep shearing too; if I

can't make this trick lead on to another and

fleece those shearers, let me be struck off

the thieves' register and my name

be written in the book of good men!

 

Jog on, jog on, along the footpath,

and merrily jump the stile:

a merry heart can go all day,

the sad heart tires in a mile.

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