Выбери любимый жанр

Вы читаете книгу

Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

Казавчинская Тамара Яковлевна

Выбрать книгу по жанру

Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Разное

Техника

Автомобили и ПДД

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии

оксана2018-11-27

Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур

К книге

Professor2018-11-27

Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!

К книге

Vera.Li2016-02-21

Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг

К книге

ст.ст.2018-05-15

И что это было?

К книге

Наталья222018-11-27

Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни

К книге

Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира - Казавчинская Тамара Яковлевна - Страница 37

Изменить размер шрифта:

Clarence

By heaven, I think there is no man secure

But the queen’s kindred and night-walking heralds

That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.

Heard you not what an humble suppliant

Lord Hastings was for her delivery?

Richard

Humbly complaining to her deity

Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.

I’ll tell you what, I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the king,

To be her men and wear her livery.

The jealous, o’er-worn widow and herself,

Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen,

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

Brakenbury

I beseech your graces both to pardon me;

His majesty hath straitly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with your brother.

Richard

Even so. And please your worship, Brakenbury,

You may partake of any thing we say.

We speak no treason, man. We say the king

Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen

Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous.

We say that Shore’s wife hath a pretty foot,

A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue,

And that the queen’s kindred are made gentlefolks.

How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?

Brakenbury

With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.

Richard

Naught to do with Mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her (excepting one)

Were best to do it secretly alone.

Brakenbury

What one, my lord?

Richard

Her husband, knave. Wouldst thou betray me?

Brakenbury

I do beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal

Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

Clarence

We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Richard

We are the queen’s abjects and must obey.

Brother, farewell. I will unto the king,

And whatsoe’er you will employ me in,

I will perform it to enfranchise you.

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood

Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clarence

I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Richard

Well, your imprisonment shall not be long.

I will deliver you or else Lie for you.

Meantime, have patience.

Clarence

I must perforce. Farewell.

Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and guards.

Richard

Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne’er return.

Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so

That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,

If heaven will take the present at our hands.

But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?

Enter Lord Hastings.

Hastings

Good time of day unto my gracious lord.

Richard

As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain.

Well are you welcome to this open air.

How hath your lordship brooked imprisonment?

Hastings

With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must.

But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks

That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Richard

No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too,

For they that were your enemies are his

And have prevailed as much on him as you.

Hastings

More pity that the eagles should be mewed

While kites and buzzards play at liberty.

Richard

What news abroad?

Hastings

No news so bad abroad as this at home:

The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,

And his physicians fear him mightily.

Richard

Now by Saint John, that news is bad indeed.

Oh, he hath kept an evil diet long

And over-much consumed his royal person.

ʼTis very grievous to be thought upon.

Where is he, in his bed?

Hastings

He is.

Richard

Go you before, and I will follow you.

Exit Hastings.

He cannot live, I hope, and must not die

Till George be packed with post-horse up to heaven.

I’ll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence

With lies well steeled with weighty arguments,

And if I fail not in my deep intent,

Clarence hath not another day to live:

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy

And leave the world for me to bustle in!

For then I’ll marry Warwick’s youngest daughter.

What though I killed her husband and her father?

The readiest way to make the wench amends

Is to become her husband and her father,

The which will I, not all so much for love

As for another secret close intent

By marrying her which I must reach unto.

But yet I run before my horse to market.

Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and reigns;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains.