Henry VI, Part 3 Translation Act 5, Scene 2
Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringing forth WARWICK wounded
KING EDWARD IV
So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
KING EDWARD IV
So, lie there, Warwick. Die, and our fear will die with you. Warwick was a creature that scared all of us. Now, Montague, get ready. I am looking for you, so that Warwick's bones can keep your bones company.
Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world: The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had Even now forsake me, and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body's length. Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Ah, who is here? Come to me, whether you are a friend or an enemy and tell me who won—York or Warwick? Why do I ask that? My torn body, my blood, my weakness, and my sick heart all demonstrate that I am about to die. And, when I die, my enemy will be victorious. Just like this, the tree surrenders to the axe, a tree whose branches offered shelter to the princely eagle, under whose shade the pouncing lion slept. A tree whose top branches were taller than an oak and kept low bushes safe from the powerful winds of winter. The light of my eyes is dimming under the black veil of death. These eyes used to be as bright as the sun in the middle of the day, which illuminates all the secret treacheries in the world. My wrinkles are now filled with blood; they used to be compared to the graves of kings. Because what king could I not dig a grave for? And who would dare dig mine when I angrily furrowed my brow? Ah, now my glory is smeared with dust and blood! My parks, my garden paths, my palaces! I had it all. But they are all gone now and nothing is left of my lands but my body. What is all that pomp and circumstance, greatness and power but earth and dust? No matter how well we live, we must all die.
Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET
Ah, Warwick, Warwick! Wert thou as we are. We might recover all our loss again; The queen from France hath brought a puissant power: Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly!
Ah, Warwick, Warwick! If only you were standing strong like us. We might get back what we have lost. The queen has brought a powerful army from France. We have just heard the news. Ah, if only you could escape death!
Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand. And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
I wouldn't if I could. Oh, Montague, sweet friend, if you are there, take my hand. And kiss me to keep my dying soul from passing through my lips! You don't love me, because, if you did, friend, your tears would wash away this cold thick blood that makes my lips stick together and won't let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I'll be dead.
Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last; And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.' And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, That mought not be distinguished; but at last I well might hear, delivered with a groan, 'O, farewell, Warwick!'
Ah, Warwick! Montague has died too. And until his last breath, he cried out for Warwick and said, "Send my love to my brave comrade." And he would have said more and he did speak more, but it sounded like the echoes in a tomb. We couldn't make out what he was saying, but in the end, I imagined I could hear him saying, with a groan, "Oh, goodbye, Warwick!"
Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves;For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.
Let my soul rest in peace! Go, lords and save yourselves. Now Warwick says goodbye to you and may we all meet in heaven.
Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!
Let's go, let's go! Let's meet the queen's great army!
Here they bear away his body. Exeunt