Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

Шекспир Уильям

Rivers

We wait upon your grace.

^{Exeunt all but Glouceter.}

Richard

I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulls, Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham, And tell them ’tis the queen and her allies That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it, and withal whet me To be revenged on Rivers, Dorset, Grey. But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture Tell them that God bids us do good for evil. And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stolen out of holy writ. And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

^{Enter two Murderers.}

But, soft, here come my executioners — How now, my hardy, stout, resolv`ed mates, Are you now going to dispatch this thing?

First Murderer

We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant That we may be admitted where he is.

Richard

Well thought upon, I have it here about me. When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate. Do not hear him plead, For Clarence is well spoken and perhaps May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.

First Murderer

Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers. Be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

Richard

Your eyes drop millstones, when fools’ eyes fall tears. I like you, lads. About your business straight. Go, go, dispatch.

Murderers

We will, my noble lord.

^Exeunt.

Scene 4

^{Enter Clarence and Keeper.}

Keeper

Why looks your grace so heavily today?

Clarence

Oh, I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night Though ’twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time.

Keeper

What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me.

Clarence

Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, And, in my company my brother Gloucester, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches. There we looked toward England And cited up a thousand heavy times During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befallen us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown, What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears, What sights of ugly death within mine eyes. Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks, Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men’s skulls, and in the holes Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept, As ’twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, Which wooed the slimy bottom of the deep And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.

Keeper

Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clarence

Methought I had, and often did I strive To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood Stopped in my soul and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast and wandering air, But smothered it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Keeper

Awaked you not in this sore agony?

Clarence

No, no, my dream was lengthened after life. Oh, then began the tempest to my soul. I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that sour ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger-soul Was my great father-in-law, renown`ed Warwick, Who spake aloud, ’What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?’ And so he vanished. Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud, ’Clarence is come: false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury. Seize on him, furies, take him unto torment.’ With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environed me, and howl`ed in mine ears Such hideous cries that with the very noise I trembling waked, and for a season after Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.

Keeper

No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you. I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clarence

Ah keeper, keeper, I have done these things Which now bear evidence against my soul For Edward’s sake, and see how he requites me. O God, if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in me alone. Oh, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children. Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile. My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Keeper

I will, my lord. God give your grace good rest.

^{Enter Brakenbury, the Lieutenant.}

Brakenbury

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honour for an inward toil, And for unfelt imaginations They often feel a world of restless cares; So that between their titles and low name There’s nothing differs but the outward fame.

^{Enter two Murderers.}

First Murderer

Ho, who’s here?

Brakenbury

What wouldst thou, fellow? And how cam’st thou hither?

Second Murderer

I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Brakenbury

What, so brief?

First Murderer

’Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let him see our commission, and talk no more.