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

by William Shakespeare

  So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;

  'T is but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,

  As one that surfeits thinking on a want.

  I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,

  Adventure to be banished myself;

  And banished I am, if but from thee.

  Go; speak not to me, even now be gone.--

  O, go not yet!--Even thus two friends condemn'd

  Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,

  Loather a hundred times to part than die.

  Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!

  O, let me beg you to stop. Give me your hand,

  so I can cover it with my mournful tears;

  don't let the rain from heaven wet this place,

  to wash away my sad keepsakes.

  Oh, I wish this kiss could be printed on your hand,

  so that you could think of these as being a seal

  through which a thousand sighs are breathed for you!

  So, go, so that I know what my sadness is like;

  I can only imagine it while you are still here,

  like someone who becomes full thinking of their hunger.

  I will have your sentence reversed, or, I promise you,

  I will get myself exiled;

  and I am exiled, if I am separated from you.

  Go, don't speak to me, just go.

  O, don't go! This is how to friends condemned to death

  would embrace and kiss and say goodbye ten thousand times,

  a hundred times more unwilling to part than to die.

  But now farewell; and as you go farewell to life!

  SUFFOLK.

  Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished;

  Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.

  'T is not the land I care for, wert thou thence;

  A wilderness is populous enough,

  So Suffolk had thy heavenly company;

  For where thou art, there is the world itself,

  With every several pleasure in the world,

  And where thou art not, desolation.

  I can no more; live thou to joy thy life,

  Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st.

  So poor Suffolk is exiled ten times;

  once by the King, and nine times by you.

  I don't care about the country, if you were with me;

  a wilderness would have enough company,

  if Suffolk had you with him;

  for where you are, that is where the world is,

  and every pleasure in the world,

  and where you are not, everything is empty.

  I can't say any more; may you live in happiness,

  I will have no joy except for the thought that you are alive.

  [Enter VAUX.]

  QUEEN.

  Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I prithee?

  Where is Vaux going so fast? What news have you?

  VAUX.

  To signify unto his majesty

  That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;

  For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,

  That makes him gasp and stare and catch the air,

  Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth.

  Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost

  Were by his side, sometime he calls the king

  And whispers to his pillow as to him

  The secrets of his overcharged soul;

  And I am sent to tell his majesty

  That even now he cries aloud for him.

  I have to tell his Majesty

  that Cardinal Beaufort is almost dead;

  a sudden terrible sickness took hold of him,

  that makes him gasp and stare and pant,

  blaspheming against God and cursing men on earth.

  Sometimes he talks as if the ghost of Duke Humphrey

  were at his side, sometimes he calls the King

  and whispers to his pillow as if it was him,

  telling him the secrets of his burdened soul;

  and I have been sent to tell his Majesty

  that at this very moment he is crying aloud for him.

  QUEEN.

  Go tell this heavy message to the king.--

  [Exit Vaux.]

  Ay me! what is this world! what news are these!

  But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,

  Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?

  Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,

  And with the southern clouds contend in tears,

  Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows?

  Now get thee hence.

  The king, thou know'st, is coming;

  If thou be found by me; thou art but dead.

  Go and take this sad message to the King.

  Alas! What a world this is! What news this is!

  But why do I grieve for a poor hour's loss,

  leaving out the exile of Suffolk, the treasure of my soul?

  Why do I not just mourn for you, Suffolk,

  and compete with the southern clouds with my tears,

  theirs which grow things on earth, mine which grow my sorrows?

  Now go.

  You know the King is coming;

  if you are found with me, you are dead.

  SUFFOLK.

  If I depart from thee, I cannot live;

  And in thy sight to die, what were it else

  But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?

  Here could I breathe my soul into the air,

  As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe

  Dying with mother's dug between its lips;

  Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad

  And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,

  To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth.

  So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,

  Or I should breathe it so into thy body,

  And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.

  To die by thee were but to die in jest;

  From thee to die were torture more than death.

  O, let me stay, befall what may befall!

  If I leave you, I cannot live;

  if I died looking at you, what would it be like

  apart from a pleasant sleep in your lap?

  I could breathe my last breath here,

  as mild and calm as a newborn baby

  dying with its mother's breast in its lips;

  if I was away from you, I would be raging mad

  and cry out for you to close my eyes,

  to have you shut my lips with your mouth,

  so you could either bring back my fleeing soul,

  or I could breathe it into your body,

  and so it would then live in a sweet heaven.

  To die next to you would to die a happy death;

  to die away from you would be a fate worse than death.

  Oh let me stay, whatever happens!

  QUEEN.

  Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,

  It is applied to a deathful wound.

  To France, sweet Suffolk; let me hear from thee,

  For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe

  I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

  Go! Although parting stings horribly,

  it is like medicine on a deadly wound.

  Go to France, sweet Suffolk; let me hear from you,

  for wherever you go in the world

  my messengers shall seek you out.

  SUFFOLK.

  I go.

  I'm going.

  QUEEN.

  And take my heart with thee.

  And take my heart with you.

  SUFFOLK.

  A jewel, lock'd into the wofull'st cask

  That ever did contain a thing of worth.

  Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;

  This way fall I to death.

  It is a jewel, locked in the shabbiest case


  that ever contained a valuable thing.

  So we part like a split tree;

  I am going this way to death.

  QUEEN.

  This way for me.

  And I go this way.

  [Exeunt severally.]

  [Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed.]

  KING.

  How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

  How is my Lord? Speak, Beaufort, to your sovereign.

  CARDINAL.

  If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

  Enough to purchase such another island,

  So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.

  If you are death, I'll give you all the wealth of England,

  enough to buy another island like it,

  if you will let me live without pain.

  KING.

  Ah, what a sign it is of evil life

  Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

  Alas, what a sign of an evil life it is

  to be so frightened of death!

  WARWICK.

  Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

  Beaufort, it's your sovereign speaking to you.

  CARDINAL.

  Bring me unto my trial when you will.

  Died he not in his bed? where should he die?

  Can I make men live, whether they will or no?

  O, torture me no more! I will confess.--

  Alive again? then show me where he is;

  I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.

  He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.

  Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,

  Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul.--

  Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary

  Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

  Put me on trial when you want.

  Didn't he die in his bed? Where should he die?

  Can I keep men alive, whether they want to live or not?

  Oh, don't torture me any more! I will confess–

  he's alive again? Then show me where he is;

  I'll give a thousand pounds to look at him.

  He has no eyes, they're blinded by the dust.

  Comb down his hair; look, look! It's standing straight up,

  like lime twigs made into a trap for the bird of my soul.

  Bring me a drink; and tell the chemist

  to bring the strong poison that I bought from him.

  KING.

  O Thou eternal Mover of the Heavens,

  Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!

  O, beat away the busy meddling fiend

  That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,

  And from his bosom purge this black despair!

  Oh you great mover of the heavens,

  look pityingly on this wretch!

  Oh, fight off the interfering devil

  who is laying a strong siege to his soul,

  and wash out this black despair from his heart!

  WARWICK.

  See how the pangs of death do make him grin!

  See how the agonies of death make him grin!

  SALISBURY.

  Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.

  Don't serve him; let him go in peace.

  KING.

  Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!--

  Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,

  Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.--

  He dies, and makes no sign.--O God, forgive him!

  Peace on his soul, if good God decrees it!

  Lord Cardinal, if you're thinking of the happiness in heaven,

  hold up your hand, show your hopes.

  He's died, and made no sign. Oh God, forgive him!

  WARWICK.

  So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

  Such a bad death would seem to indicate a terrible life.

  KING HENRY.

  Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.--

  Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;

  And let us all to meditation.

  Refrain from judging, for we are all sinners.

  Close his eyes can draw the curtains;

  let us all go to our prayers.

  [Exeunt.]

  [Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a Captain,

  a Master, a Master's Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and

  others; with them SUFFOLK, and others, prisoners.]

  CAPTAIN.

  The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day

  Is crept into the bosom of the sea;

  And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades

  That drag the tragic melancholy night,

  Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings,

  Clip dead men's graves and from their misty jaws

  Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

  Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize;

  For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,

  Here shall they make their ransom on the sand

  Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.--

  Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;--

  And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;--

  The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

  This bright, revealing and sorrowful day

  has sunk into the sea;

  and now the loud howls of the wolves awake the nags

  that drag in the tragic sorrowful night,

  who, with their sleepy, slow and exhausted wings,

  tear open dead men's graves and from their misty jaws

  breathe foul infectious darkness into the air.

  So bring out the soldiers from our captured ship;

  for, while our ship anchors in the Downs

  they shall pay their ransom on the beach

  or their blood will stain this discoloured shore.

  Master, I give you this prisoner freely;

  and you, his mate, you take your profit from this one;

  the other is your share, Walter Whitmore.

  1 GENTLEMAN.

  What is my ransom, master? let me know.

  What price do you want from me, master? Tell me.

  MASTER.

  A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

  A thousand crowns, or else your life.

  MATE.

  And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

  And the same for you, or you lose yours as well.

  CAPTAIN.

  What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,

  And bear the name and port of gentlemen?--

  Cut both the villains' throats;--for die you shall.

  The lives of those which we have lost in fight

  Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum!

  What, do you think that two thousand pounds is too high a price,

  when you have the name and bearing of gentlemen? You shall die.

  The lives of those we have lost in the fight

  must be balanced by this paltry sum.

  1 GENTLEMAN.

  I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

  I'll pay it, sir; and so spare my life.

  2 GENTLEMAN.

  And so will I, and write home for it straight.

  And so will I, I'll write home for it at once.

  WHITMORE.

  I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,--

  [To Suffolk] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;--

  And so should these, if I might have my will.

  I lost my eye in capturing the ship,

  [to Suffolk] and so, for revenge, you shall die;

  and so would these, if I have my way.

  CAPTAIN.

  Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.

  Don't be so hasty; take the ransom, let him live.

  SUFFOLK.

  Look on my George; I am a gentleman.
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  Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

  Look at my badge; I am a gentleman.

  Charge what you want for me, you will be paid.

  WHITMORE.

  And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.

  How now! why start'st thou? What, doth death affright?

  And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.

  What's this! Why did you jump? What, are you afraid of death?

  SUFFOLK.

  Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.

  A cunning man did calculate my birth

  And told me that by water I should die.

  Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;

  Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded.

  Your name frightens me, it sounds like death.

  A clever man wrote my horoscope

  and told me that I would die by drowning.

  But don't make this a reason for killing me;

  your name is Gaultier, correctly pronounced.

  WHITMORE.

  Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not.

  Never yet did base dishonour blur our name

  But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;

  Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,

  Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,

  And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!

  Gaultier or Walter, I don't care which it is.

  But never has low dishonour insulted my name

  without me wiping the stain away with my sword;

  so, if I ever sell my revenge like a shopkeeper,

  let my soul be broken, my coat of arms torn and vandalised:

  and have me announced as a coward throughout the world.

  SUFFOLK.

  Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,

  The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.