The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (88 page)

you had a Richard, until a Richard killed him.

DUCHESS.

I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

I had a Richard too, and you killed him;

I had a Rutland too, you helped to kill him.

QUEEN MARGARET.

Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard

kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept

A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death.

That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes

To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,

That foul defacer of God's handiwork,

That excellent grand tyrant of the earth

That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,

Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.

O upright, just, and true-disposing God,

How do I thank thee that this carnal cur

Preys on the issue of his mother's body

And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

You also have a Clarence, and Richard killed him.

From out of the kennel of your womb there has crept

a hell hound that is hunting us all to death.

That dog, that grew teeth before it grew eyes,

to worry lambs and drink their gentle blood,

that foul vandaliser of God's handiwork,

that unparalleled earthly tyrant

who rules in the sore eyes of weeping souls,

that was what your womb unleashed to chase us to our graves.

O upright, just and fair dealing God,

how I thank you that this lusty cur

is preying on his mother's other children

and makes her sit down with her fellow sufferers.

DUCHESS.

O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Oh wife of Harry, do not rejoice in my sorrow!

As God is my witness, I wept for yours.

QUEEN MARGARET.

Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;

The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;

Young York he is but boot, because both they

Match'd not the high perfection of my loss.

Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward;

And the beholders of this frantic play,

Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,

Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.

Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;

Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls

And send them thither. But at hand, at hand,

Ensues his piteous and unpitied end.

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,

To have him suddenly convey'd from hence.

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live and say 'The dog is dead.'

Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,

and I am feeding myself as I see it.

Your Edward who killed my Edward is dead;

the other Edward is dead, to pay for my Edward;

young York is just small change, because together

they did not add up to the high perfection of the one I lost.

Your Clarence is dead who stabbed my Edward;

and the ones who looked on at this vicious event,

the adulterous Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,

have found early deaths in their dark graves.

Richard, the black spy of hell, is still alive;

hell keeps him as its agent to buy souls

and send them there. But soon, soon,

he will meet his terrible and un-pitied end.

Earth is opening, hell burns, devils roar, saints pray,

all wanting him to be suddenly carried away from here.

Don't permit him any more life, dear God, I pray,

so that I can live and say ‘The dog is dead.’

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

O, thou didst prophesy the time would

come

That I should wish for thee to help me curse

That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!

Oh, you did prophesy that the time would come

when I would ask for you to help me curse

that swollen spider, that foul hunchbacked toad!

QUEEN MARGARET.

I Call'd thee then vain flourish of my

fortune;

I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen,

The presentation of but what I was,

The flattering index of a direful pageant,

One heav'd a-high to be hurl'd down below,

A mother only mock'd with two fair babes,

A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag

To be the aim of every dangerous shot,

A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble,

A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?

Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?

Who sues, and kneels, and says 'God save the Queen'?

Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?

Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?

Decline an this, and see what now thou art:

For happy wife, a most distressed widow;

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;

For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues;

For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;

For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;

For she being fear'd of all, now fearing one;

For she commanding all, obey'd of none.

Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about

And left thee but a very prey to time,

Having no more but thought of what thou wast

To torture thee the more, being what thou art.

Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not

Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?

Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke,

From which even here I slip my weary head

And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance;

These English woes shall make me smile in France.

At that time I called you a vain imitation of what I should be;

I called you a poor shadow, a painted queen,

just an imitation of what I had been;

a predictive prologue to the pageant of terrible things to come;

you were one lifted up high, to be hurled down;

a mother mocked by being given two fair babies;

a dream of what you were; a gaudy flag

for every dangerous shot to aim at;

a symbol of dignity; a breath, a bubble;

a joke Queen, just to complete the picture.

Where is your husband now? Where are your brothers?

Where are your two sons? Where do you get happiness?

Who begs, and kneels, and says ‘God save the Queen’?

Where are the bowing peers who flattered you?

Where are the crowds of troops who followed you?

Think about all this, and see what you are now:

the happy wife is now a terribly distressed widow;

the joyful mother who wails for her children;

someone who was begged who is now a humble beggar;

a queen who has become an outcast, her only crown is sorrow;

the one who scorned me is now scorned by me;

the one who was feared by everyone is now afraid of one;

she who used to command everything is now obeyed by no one.

So the wheel of justice has spun around

and left you a victim of time,

left with nothing but memories of what you were

to torture you more, being what you are.

You stole my place, and now do you not

steal your fair share of my sorrow?

Now your proud neck carries half of my burden,

and right now I take away my tired head

and leave you to manage all of it.

Farewell, York's wife, the Queen of sorrowful bad luck;

your English woes will make me smile in France.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile

And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

You are so good at curses, stay a while

and teach me how to curse my enemies!

QUEEN MARGARET.

Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the

days;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,

And he that slew them fouler than he is.

Bett'ring thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;

Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Do not sleep at night, and do not eat in the day;

compare your dead happiness with your living sorrows;

imagine that your babies were sweeter than they were,

and the one who killed them is fouler than he is.

Making your loss seem greater makes the one who caused it seem worse;

thinking of this will teach you how to curse.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

My words are dull; O, quicken them

with thine!

My words are dull; oh, sharpen them with yours!

QUEEN MARGARET.

Thy woes will make them sharp and

pierce like mine.

Your sorrows will sharpen them and make them stab like mine.

Exit

DUCHESS.

Why should calamity be full of words?

Why must disaster be full of words?

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Windy attorneys to their client woes,

Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries,

Let them have scope; though what they will impart

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

They are the windy lawyers of their client sorrows,

airy inheritors of intestate happiness,

the poor breathing speakers of misery,

let them run free; even if what they say

helps nothing else, they can ease the heart.

DUCHESS.

If so, then be not tongue-tied. Go with me,

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother

My damned son that thy two sweet sons smother'd.

The trumpet sounds; be copious in exclaims.

If that's true, then let your speech out. Come with me,

and with a gale of bitter words let’s smother

my damned son who smothered your two sweet sons.

The trumpet sounds; be profligate with your curses.

Enter KING RICHARD and his train, marching with

drums and trumpets

KING RICHARD.

Who intercepts me in my expedition?

Who intercepts me on my journey?

DUCHESS.

O, she that might have intercepted thee,

By strangling thee in her accursed womb,

From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

Oh, she who might have intercepted you

by strangling you in her cursed womb,

and prevented all the slaughters, wretch, you have committed!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Hidest thou that forehead with a golden

crown

Where't should be branded, if that right were right,

The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that crown,

And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?