Original
Modern English
Here once again we sit, once again crown’d, And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.
Here we sit again, once more crowned, And I hope, looked upon with happy faces.
This ’once again,’ but that your highness pleased, Was once superfluous: you were crown’d before, And that high royalty was ne’er pluck’d off, The faiths of men ne’er stained with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land With any long’d-for change or better state.
This ’once again’ is unnecessary, since your highness was already crowned, And that royal title was never taken away, The loyalty of the people was never shaken; There was no unrest or desire for change.
Therefore, to be possess’d with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
So, to be crowned again with extra grandeur, To protect a title that was already secure, To add gold to gold, to paint a flower that’s already beautiful, To perfume the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another color To the rainbow, or use a light To brighten the beautiful sky, Is a waste and an absurdity.
But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told, And in the last repeating troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
But since it’s your royal will, This act is like telling an old story again, And it gets tiresome when repeated, Especially at such an inappropriate time.
In this the antique and well noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured; And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles and frights consideration, Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion’d robe.
In this, the old, familiar form Is badly distorted; And, like a gust of wind changing the direction of a sail, It causes confusion and doubt, Makes people question what they thought they knew, And leads to suspicion, because it’s so new and different.
When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness; And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch’d.
When workers try to do better than necessary, They end up spoiling their work with greed; And often, trying to excuse a mistake Makes the mistake even worse, because of the excuse, Like patching up a small tear, Which makes the tear more noticeable than before.
To this effect, before you were new crown’d, We breathed our counsel: but it pleased your highness To overbear it, and we are all well pleased, Since all and every part of what we would Doth make a stand at what your highness will.
For this reason, before you were crowned again, We offered our advice: but your highness chose to ignore it, And we are all content, Since everything we wanted is now aligned with your will.
Some reasons of this double coronation I have possess’d you with and think them strong; And more, more strong, then lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with: meantime but ask What you would have reform’d that is not well, And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests.
I have explained some of the reasons for this double coronation, And I think they are strong; And even stronger, my fear is less now, I will share with you: in the meantime, just ask What you would like to change that isn’t right, And you’ll see how willingly I will listen and grant your requests.
Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purpose of all their hearts, Both for myself and them, but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies, heartily request The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument,-- If what in rest you have in right you hold, Why then your fears, which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong, should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman and to choke his days With barbarous ignorance and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise? That the time’s enemies may not have this To grace occasions, let it be our suit That you have bid us ask his liberty; Which for our goods we do no further ask Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, Counts it your weal he have his liberty.
Then I, as one who speaks for these people, To express what’s in all their hearts, Both for myself and for them, but most importantly, For your safety, for which both I and they Devote our best efforts, humbly ask For Arthur’s freedom; whose imprisonment Makes people grumble with dissatisfaction And turn this dangerous conversation into action,-- If what you possess by right is truly yours, Then why do your fears, which are said to follow Wrongdoing, make you lock up Your young relative and cut his life short With cruel ignorance, denying his youth The benefit of good education? So that the enemies of this time can’t use it To their advantage, let it be our request That you allow us to ask for his freedom; Which, for our well-being, we only ask Because our welfare depends on you, and we count on your welfare to ensure he has his freedom.
Let it be so: I do commit his youth To your direction. Hubert, what news with you?
Let it be so: I trust his future To your care. Hubert, what’s the news with you?
This is the man should do the bloody deed; He show’d his warrant to a friend of mine: The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Does show the mood of a much troubled breast; And I do fearfully believe ’tis done, What we so fear’d he had a charge to do.
This is the man who should carry out the bloody deed; He showed his orders to a friend of mine: The look of a wicked, terrible crime Shows in his eyes; his intense gaze Reveals the troubled state of his heart; And I fearfully believe it’s done, What we feared he was ordered to do.
The colour of the king doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds ’twixt two dreadful battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.
The king’s color changes, Going back and forth between his intentions and his conscience, Like messengers caught between two great battles: His emotions are so intense, they must break out.
And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child’s death.
And when they break, I fear it will reveal The terrible corruption of a young child’s death.
We cannot hold mortality’s strong hand: Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead: He tells us Arthur is deceased to-night.
We cannot stop the strong hand of death: Good lords, although my desire to give is alive, The request you make is gone and dead: He tells us Arthur has died tonight.
Indeed we fear’d his sickness was past cure.
We feared his illness was beyond cure.
Indeed we heard how near his death he was Before the child himself felt he was sick: This must be answer’d either here or hence.
We heard how close he was to death Even before the child himself realized he was ill: This must be answered, either here or elsewhere.
Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life?
Why do you look at me like that? Do you think I control fate? Do I have authority over life and death?
It is apparent foul play; and ’tis shame That greatness should so grossly offer it: So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell.
It’s clear there’s foul play; and it’s a disgrace That someone in power should do such a thing: May your game prosper! And farewell.
Stay yet, Lord Salisbury; I’ll go with thee, And find the inheritance of this poor child, His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood which owed the breadth of all this isle, Three foot of it doth hold: bad world the while! This must not be thus borne: this will break out To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt.
Wait, Lord Salisbury; I’ll go with you, And search for the inheritance of this poor child, His small kingdom in a forced grave. The blood that should have covered the whole kingdom, Now only holds three feet of it: what a terrible world! This cannot be accepted: this will lead to More sorrow for all of us, and soon, I fear.
They burn in indignation. I repent: There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others’ death.
They burn with anger. I regret it: There is no solid foundation built on blood, No secure life gained by the death of others.
A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm: Pour down thy weather: how goes all in France?
You have a scared look: where is that color That I have seen on your cheeks before? A sky this dark doesn’t clear up without a storm: Let your storm come: what’s happening in France?
From France to England. Never such a power For any foreign preparation Was levied in the body of a land. The copy of your speed is learn’d by them; For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings come that they are all arrived.
From France to England. Never has such a force Been raised for any foreign cause In the history of this land. They have learned of your quickness; For when you should be told they’re preparing, The news comes that they’ve already arrived.
O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s care, That such an army could be drawn in France, And she not hear of it?
Oh, where has our intelligence been lost? Where has it been sleeping? Where is my mother’s care, That such a big army could be gathered in France, And she not know about it?
My liege, her ear Is stopp’d with dust; the first of April died Your noble mother: and, as I hear, my lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzy died Three days before: but this from rumour’s tongue I idly heard; if true or false I know not.
My king, her ears Are stopped with dust; your noble mother died On the first of April: and, as I’ve heard, my lord, The Lady Constance died mad Three days before: but this I heard from rumor’s mouth And don’t know if it’s true or not.
Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! O, make a league with me, till I have pleased My discontented peers! What! mother dead! How wildly then walks my estate in France! Under whose conduct came those powers of France That thou for truth givest out are landed here?
Hold your speed, dreadful news! Oh, make a deal with me, until I have settled With my discontented nobles! What! mother dead! How terribly unstable my position is in France! Under whose command came the French forces That you say have landed here?
Under the Dauphin.
Under the Dauphin.
Thou hast made me giddy With these ill tidings.
You’ve made me dizzy With this bad news.
Now, what says the world To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff My head with more ill news, for it is full.
Now, what does the world say About your actions? Don’t try to stuff My head with more bad news, it’s already full.
But if you be afeard to hear the worst, Then let the worst unheard fall on your bead.
But if you’re afraid to hear the worst, Then let the worst fall on your head unheard.
Bear with me cousin, for I was amazed Under the tide: but now I breathe again Aloft the flood, and can give audience To any tongue, speak it of what it will.
Bear with me, cousin, for I was stunned By the news: but now I’ve regained my senses And can listen again To whatever you need to say.
How I have sped among the clergymen, The sums I have collected shall express. But as I travell’d hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied; Possess’d with rumours, full of idle dreams, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: And here a prophet, that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels; To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Your highness should deliver up your crown.
How I’ve fared among the clergymen, The money I’ve collected will show. But as I traveled here through the land, I found the people strangely excited; Possessed with rumors, full of pointless fears, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: And here’s a prophet I brought with me From the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many people following him; He sang in rough, harsh rhymes, That, before the next Ascension Day at noon, Your highness would have to give up your crown.
Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?
You foolish dreamer, why did you do that?
Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.
Because I knew the truth would come to pass.
Hubert, away with him; imprison him; And on that day at noon whereon he says I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang’d. Deliver him to safety; and return, For I must use thee.
Hubert, take him away; imprison him; And on that day at noon when he says I will give up my crown, let him be hanged. Take him to safety; and return, For I need you.
O my gentle cousin, Hear’st thou the news abroad, who are arrived?
O my gentle cousin, Have you heard the news, who has arrived?
The French, my lord; men’s mouths are full of it: Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, And others more, going to seek the grave Of Arthur, who they say is kill’d to-night On your suggestion.
The French, my lord; everyone is talking about it: Also, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, With eyes as red as newly-lit fire, And others, too, going to find the grave Of Arthur, who they say was killed tonight Because of your suggestion.
Gentle kinsman, go, And thrust thyself into their companies: I have a way to win their loves again; Bring them before me.
Gentle cousin, go, And join their company: I know a way to win their favor again; Bring them to me.
I will seek them out.
I will seek them out.
Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. O, let me have no subject enemies, When adverse foreigners affright my towns With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, And fly like thought from them to me again.
No, hurry up; get ahead of them. Oh, let me not have enemies among my own people, When foreign enemies are threatening my towns With terrifying displays of strength and attack! Be like Mercury, put wings on your feet, And fly like thought from them to me again.
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
The spirit of the time will teach me to be quick.
Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. Go after him; for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou he.
He spoke like a lively and noble gentleman. Go after him; he may need A messenger between me and the nobles; And you be that messenger.
With all my heart, my liege.
With all my heart, my lord.
My mother dead!
My mother is dead!
My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion.
My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight; Four were fixed, and the fifth moved around The other four in a strange way.
Five moons!
Five moons!
Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously: Young Arthur’s death is common in their mouths: And when they talk of him, they shake their heads And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer’s wrist, Whilst he that hears makes fearful action, With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor’s news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, Told of a many thousand warlike French That were embattailed and rank’d in Kent: Another lean unwash’d artificer Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur’s death.
Old men and women in the streets Are prophesying about it, and it’s dangerous: Young Arthur’s death is all they talk about: And when they mention him, they shake their heads And whisper in each other’s ears; The person speaking grabs the listener’s wrist, And the listener reacts fearfully, With furrowed brows, nodding, rolling eyes. I saw a blacksmith standing with his hammer, like this, While his iron cooled on the anvil, With his mouth wide open, listening to a tailor’s news; The tailor, with his shears and tape measure in his hand, Standing in slippers, which his hasty steps Had carelessly put on the wrong feet, Told of thousands of warlike French Who were gathered and organized in Kent: Another thin, unwashed worker Interrupted him and talked about Arthur’s death.
Why seek’st thou to possess me with these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur’s death? Thy hand hath murder’d him: I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
Why are you trying to fill my mind with these fears? Why do you keep bringing up young Arthur’s death? Your hand killed him: I had a strong reason To wish him dead, but you had no reason to kill him.
No had, my lord! why, did you not provoke me?
No, my lord! Why, didn’t you provoke me?
It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life, And on the winking of authority To understand a law, to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns More upon humour than advised respect.
It’s the curse of kings to be served By slaves who think their moods give them the right To break into the bloody house of life, And at the slightest hint of authority To interpret a law, to understand the meaning Of dangerous power, when maybe it frowns More because of mood than proper respect.
Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
Here’s your hand and seal for what I did.
O, when the last account ’twixt heaven and earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation! How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature mark’d, Quoted and sign’d to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind: But taking note of thy abhorr’d aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villany, Apt, liable to be employ’d in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur’s death; And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.
Oh, when the final account between heaven and earth Is to be made, then this hand and seal Will stand against us to damn us! How often the sight of ways to do bad things Leads to bad deeds being done! If you hadn’t been there, A man marked by nature, chosen to do a shameful deed, This murder wouldn’t have crossed my mind: But seeing your hateful face, Finding you ready for bloody villainy, Willing, ready to be used in danger, I weakly talked to you about Arthur’s death; And you, wanting to please a king, Had no conscience about killing a prince.
My lord--
My lord--
Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause When I spake darkly what I purposed, Or turn’d an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words, Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: But thou didst understand me by my signs And didst in signs again parley with sin; Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently thy rude hand to act The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers: Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns Between my conscience and my cousin’s death.
If you had just shaken your head or paused When I spoke darkly about what I planned, Or looked at me with doubt in your eyes, As if you wanted me to say it plainly, Shame would have struck me dumb, made me stop, And your fears might have made me fearful too: But you understood me by my signs And replied with your own signs of sin; Yes, without hesitation, you let your heart agree, And so your rough hand went on to do The deed that both our tongues found vile to name. Get out of my sight, and never see me again! My nobles leave me; and my kingdom is threatened, Even at my gates, by foreign armies: No, within this very land, This kingdom, this border of blood and breath, Conflict and civil war rage Between my conscience and my cousin’s death.
Arm you against your other enemies, I’ll make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never enter’d yet The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; And you have slander’d nature in my form, Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
Arm yourself against your other enemies, I’ll make peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine Is still a pure and innocent hand, Not stained with the blood of murder. In my heart, no murderous thought has yet entered; And you have slandered nature in my form, Which, however rough on the outside, Hides a nobler mind Than to be the butcher of an innocent child.
Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not, but to my closet bring The angry lords with all expedient haste. I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast.
Is Arthur alive? Oh, hurry to the lords, Spread this news to calm their angry rage, And make them submit to their duty! Forgive what I said about your appearance; My anger was blind, And foul, imaginary eyes of blood Made you look worse than you are. Oh, don’t answer, but bring the angry lords To my chamber with all haste. I beg you, don’t wait; run faster.