Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира - [55]

Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell.

Thou hadst but power over his mortal body;

His soul thou canst not have. Therefore be gone.

Richard

Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

Anne

Foul devil, for God’s sake hence, and trouble us not,

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,

Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,

Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.

O gentlemen, see, see, dead Henry’s wounds

Open their còngealed mouths and bleed afresh.

Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity,

For ʼtis thy presence that exhales this blood

From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells.

Thy deeds inhuman and unnatural

Provokes this deluge most unnatural.

O God, which this blood madʼst, revenge his death.

O earth, which this blood drinkʼstʼrevenge his death.

Either heavʼn with lightning strike the murdʼrer dead,

Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick,

As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood,

Which his hell-governed arm hath butcherèd.

Richard

Lady, you know no rules of charity,

Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Anne

Villain, thou knowʼst no law of God nor man.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

Richard

But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

Anne

Oh, wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

Richard

More wonderful, when angels are so angry.

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

Of these supposèd crimes to give me leave

By circumstance but to acquit myself.

Anne

Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,

Of these known evils but to give me leave

By circumstance to curse thy cursèd self.

Richard

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No èxcuse current but to hang thyself.

Richard

By such despair I should accuse myself.

Anne

And by despairing, shalst thou stand excused

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,

Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Richard

Say that I slew them not.

Anne

Then say they were not slain.

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

Richard

I did not kill your husband.

Anne

Why, then he is alive.

Richard

Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward’s hands.

Anne

In thy foul throat thou liest. Queen Margaret saw

Thy murd’rous falchion smoking in his blood,

The which thou once didst bend against her breast,

But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Richard

I was provokèd by her sland’rous tongue,

That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne

Thou wast provokèd by thy bloody mind,

Which never dream’st on aught but butcheries.

Didst thou not kill this king?

Richard

I grant ye.

Anne

Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then God grant me too

Thou mayst be damnèd for that wicked deed.

Oh, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

Richard

The better for the king of heaven that hath him.

Anne

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

Richard

Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither,

For he was fitter for that place than earth.

Anne

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

Richard

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

Anne

Some dungeon.

Richard

Your bedchamber.

Anne

Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest.

Richard

So will it, madam, till I lie with you.

Anne

I hope so.

Richard

I know so. But gentle Lady Anne,

To leave this keen encounter of our wits

And fall something into a slower method,

Is not the causer of the timeless deaths

Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,

As blameful as the executioner?

Anne

Thou wast the cause and most accursed effect.

Richard

Your beauty was the cause of that effect:

Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world,

So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

Anne

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,

These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Richard

These eyes could never endure sweet beauty’s wreck.

You should not blemish it if I stood by.

As all the world is cheered by the sun,

So I by that. It is my day, my life.

Anne

Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life.

Richard

Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

Anne

I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

Richard

It is a quarrel most unnatural

To be revenged on him that loveth you.

Anne

It is a quarrel just and reasonable

To be revenged on him that killed my husband.

Richard

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband

Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne

His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

Richard

He lives that loves thee better than he could.

Anne

Name him.

Richard

                                        Plantagenet.

Anne

                                    Why, that was he.

Richard

The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

Anne

Where is he?

Richard

                                   Here.

^{[She] spits at him.}

                                 Why dost thou spit at me?

Anne

Would it were mortal poison for thy sake.

Richard

Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Anne

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.

Out of my sight. Thou dost infect mine eyes.

Richard

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

Anne

Would they were basilisks’, to strike thee dead.

Richard

I would they were, that I might die at once,