Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира - [63]

Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.

There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here

To make the blessèd period of this peace.

Buckingham

And, in good time,

Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the duke.

^{Enter Ratcliffe and Richard.}

Richard

Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen;

And princely peers, a happy time of day.

King Edward

Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.

Brother, we have done deeds of charity,

Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,

Between these swelling wrong-incensèd peers.

Richard

A blessèd labour, my most sovereign lord.

Among this princely heap, if any here

By false intelligence or wrong surmise

Hold me a foe; if I unwittingly or in my rage

Have aught committed that is hardly borne

By any in this presence, I desire

To reconcile me to his friendly peace.

ʼTis death to me to be at enmity;

I hate it and desire all good men’s love.

First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,

Which I will purchase with my duteous service;

Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

If ever any grudge were lodged between us;

Of you and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,

That all without desert have frowned on me;

Of you, Lord Woodville, and Lord Scales, of you;

Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen, indeed of all.

I do not know that Englishman alive

With whom my soul is any jot at odds

More than the infant that is born tonight

I thank my God for my humility.

Elizabeth

A holy day shall this be kept hereafter.

I would to God all strifes were well compounded.

My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness

To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

Richard

Why, madam, have I offered love for this,

To be so flouted in this royal presence?

Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?

^{They all start.}

You do him injury to scorn his corpse.

King Edward

Who knows not he is dead?

Who knows he is?

Elizabeth

All-seeing heaven, what a world is this?

Buckingham

Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

Dorset

Ay, my good lord, and no one in the presence

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

King Edward

Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.

Richard

But he (poor man) by your first order died,

And that a wingèd Mercury did bear;

Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,

That came too lag to see him burièd.

God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,

Nearer in bloody thoughts and not in blood,

Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,

And yet go current from suspicion.

Enter Stanley earl of Derby.

Stanley

A boon, my sovereign, for my service done.

King Edward

I prithee, peace, my soul is full of sorrow.

Stanley

I will not rise unless your highness hear me.

King Edward

Then speak at once what is it thou requests.

Stanley

The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant’s life,

Who slew today a riotous gentleman

Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

King Edward

Have a tongue to doom my brother’s death,

And shall the same give pardon to a slave?

My brother killed no man; his fault was thought,

And yet his punishment was bitter death.

Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)

Kneeled at my feet, and bade me be advised?

Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?

Who told me how the poor soul did forsake

The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?

Who told me, in the field ’at Tewksbury

When Oxford had me down, he rescued me

And said ʼDear brother, live, and be a king’?

Who told me, when we both lay in the field,

Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me

Even in his garments and gave himself

(All thin and naked) to the numb cold night?

All this from my remembrance brutish wrath

Sinfully plucked, and not a man of you

Had so much grace to put it in my mind.

But when your carters or your waiting vassals

Have done a drunken slaughter and defaced

The precious image of our dear redeemer,

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon,

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.

But for my brother not a man would speak,

Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself

For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all

Have been beholding to him in his life,

Yet none of you would once beg for his life.

O God, I fear thy justice will take hold

On me and you, and mine, and yours, for this.

Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.

Ah, poor Clarence!

^{Exeunt some with King and Queen.}

Richard

This is the fruit of rashness. Marked you not

How that the guilty kindred of the queen

Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence’ death?

Oh, they did urge it still unto the king.

God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go

To comfort Edward with our company?

Buckingham

We wait upon your grace.

^Exeunt.

Акт I

Сцена 1

^{Входит Ричард, герцог Глостер. Он один.}

Ричард

Днесь стужу наших бедствий превратил

Не отсвет солнца, отпрыск Йорка — в лето,

И толща мрачных туч над домом Йорков

Навек исчезла в море слез чужих.

Днесь на челе у нас венцы победны,

Доспехи снятые блестят с домашних стен,

Труба зовет на пир, а не на битву,

Сменился ратный строй отрадой танцев.

Днесь мрачный дух войны не хмурит брови —

Чем прыгать на стального скакуна,

Чтобы пугать противников ужасных,

В покои дам он ловко проскользнет,

Чтобы прельщаться томным звуком лютни.

Но я не создан для таких забав,

Не отражусь я в зеркале любовном;

Я отчеканен грубо, и не стать мне