Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира (Честертон, Грин) - страница 102

На первую страницу

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
Следующая страница