Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

Anne

What is it?

Richard

That it would please thee leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner And presently repair to Crosby House, Where, after I have solemnly interred At Chertsey monast’ry this noble king And wet his grave with my repentant tears, I will with all expedient duty see you. For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this boon.

Anne

With all my heart, and much it joys me, too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

Richard

Bid me farewell.

Anne

’Tis more than you deserve; But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already.

^{Exeunt two with Anne.}

Richard

Sirs, take up the corpse.

Gentlemen

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Richard

No, to Whitefriars; there attend my coming. Exeunt all but Richard with the corpse. Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long. What, I that killed her husband and his father, To take her in her heart’s extremest hate, With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of my hatred by, Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha! Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, Framed in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and (no doubt) right royal, The spacious world cannot again afford. And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince And made her widow to a woeful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety? On me, that halts and am misshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while. Upon my life, she finds (although I cannot) Myself to be a marv’lous proper man. I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body. Since I am crept in favour with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost. But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave And then return lamenting to my love. Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass.

^Exit.

Scene 3

^{Enter the queen Mother [Elizabeth], lord Rivers, and lord Grey [and the marquess of Dorset].}

Rivers

Have patience, madam. There’s no doubt his majesty Will soon recover his accustomed health.

Grey

In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse. Therefore, for God’s sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry eyes.

Elizabeth

If he were dead, what would betide on me?

Rivers

No other harm but loss of such a lord.

Elizabeth

The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

Grey

The heavens have blessed you with a goodly son To be your comforter when he is gone.

Elizabeth

Ah, he is young, and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, A man that loves not me nor none of you.

Rivers

Is it concluded that he shall be Protector?

Elizabeth

It is determined, not concluded yet, But so it must be if the king miscarry.

^{Enter Buckingham and Stanley Earl of Derby.}

Grey

Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.

Buckingham

Good time of day unto your royal grace.

Stanley

God make your majesty joyful, as you have been.

Elizabeth

The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby, To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. Yet Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stanley

I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers, Or if she be accused on true report, Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds From wayward sickness and no grounded malice.

Rivers

Saw you the king today, my lord of Derby?

Elizabeth

But now the Duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his majesty.

Elizabeth

What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

Buckingham

Madam, good hope. His grace speaks cheerfully.

Elizabeth

God grant him health. Did you confer with him?

Buckingham

Ay, madam. He desires to make atonement Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, And between them and my Lord Chamberlain, And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Elizabeth

Would all were well, but that will never be. I fear our happiness is at the hight.

^{Enter Richard and Hastings.}

Richard

They do me wrong, and I will not endure it. Who is it that complain unto the king That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men’s faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abused By silken, sly, insinuating jacks?

Grey

To who in all this presence speaks your grace?

Richard

To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong? Or thee? Or thee? Or any of your faction? A plague upon you all. His royal grace, Whom God preserve better than you would wish, Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.