Название | The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition |
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Автор произведения | ОÑкар Уайльд |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 4064066051815 |
Thou God that punishest all broken oaths,
And bid some angel write this oath in fire,
That from this hour, till my dear father’s murder
In blood I have revenged, I do forswear
The noble ties of honourable friendship,
The noble joys of dear companionship,
Affection’s bonds, and loyal gratitude,
Ay, more, from this same hour I do forswear
All love of women, and the barren thing
Which men call beauty -
[The organ peals in the Cathedral, and under a canopy of cloth of silver tissue, borne by four pages in scarlet, the DUCHESS OF PADUA comes down the steps; as she passes across their eyes meet for a moment, and as she leaves the stage she looks back at GUIDO, and the dagger falls from his hand.]
Oh! who is that?
A CITIZEN The Duchess of Padua!
END OF ACT I.
ACT II
SCENE
A state room in the Ducal Palace, hung with tapestries representing the Masque of Venus; a large door in the centre opens into a corridor of red marble, through which one can see a view of Padua; a large canopy is set (R.C.) with three thrones, one a little lower than the others; the ceiling is made of long gilded beams; furniture of the period, chairs covered with gilt leather, and buffets set with gold and silver plate, and chests painted with mythological scenes. A number of the courtiers is out on the corridor looking from it down into the street below; from the street comes the roar of a mob and cries of ‘Death to the Duke’: after a little interval enter the Duke very calmly; he is leaning on the arm of Guido Ferranti; with him enters also the Lord Cardinal; the mob still shouting.
DUKE
No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her!
Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good.
MAFFIO [excitedly]
Your Grace, there are two thousand people there
Who every moment grow more clamorous.
DUKE Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs!
People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing;
The only men I fear are silent men.
[A yell from the people.]
You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love me.
[Another yell.] Go, Petrucci,
And tell the captain of the guard below
To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir?
Do what I bid you.
[Exit PETRUCCI.]
CARDINAL I beseech your Grace
To listen to their grievances.
DUKE [sitting on his throne]
Ay! the peaches
Are not so big this year as they were last.
I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal,
I thought you spake of peaches.
[A cheer from the people.]
What is that?
GUIDO [rushes to the window]
The Duchess has gone forth into the square,
And stands between the people and the guard,
And will not let them shoot.
DUKE The devil take her!
GUIDO [still at the window]
And followed by a dozen of the citizens
Has come into the Palace.
DUKE [starting up]
By Saint James,
Our Duchess waxes bold!
BARDI Here comes the Duchess.
DUKE Shut that door there; this morning air is cold.
[They close the door on the corridor.]
[Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed Citizens.]
DUCHESS [flinging herself upon her knees]
I do beseech your Grace to give us audience.
DUKE What are these grievances?
DUCHESS
Alas, my Lord,
Such common things as neither you nor I,
Nor any of these noble gentlemen,
Have ever need at all to think about;
They say the bread, the very bread they eat,
Is made of sorry chaff.
FIRST CITIZEN
Ay! so it is,
Nothing but chaff.
DUKE
And very good food too,
I give it to my horses.
DUCHESS [restraining herself]
They say the water,
Set in the public cisterns for their use,
[Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,]
To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned.
DUKE They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome.
SECOND CITIZEN
Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs
Take at the city gate are grown so high
We cannot buy wine.
DUKE
Then you should bless the taxes
Which make you temperate.
DUCHESS
Think, while we sit
In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty
Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives
Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily
And no word said.
THIRD CITIZEN
Ay! marry, that is true,
My little son died yesternight from hunger;
He was but six years old; I am so poor,
I cannot bury him.
DUKE
If you are poor,
Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty
Is one of the Christian virtues,
[Turns to the CARDINAL.]
Is it not?
I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues,
Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates
For preaching voluntary poverty.
DUCHESS
Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous;
While we sit here within a noble house
[With shaded porticoes against the sun,
And walls and roofs to keep the winter out],