Название | KING RICHARD III |
---|---|
Автор произведения | William Shakespeare |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9788027237180 |
[Enter KING RICHARD.]
All health, my sovereign lord!
KING RICHARD
Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?
TYRREL
If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
KING RICHARD
But didst thou see them dead?
TYRREL
I did, my lord.
KING RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
TYRREL
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
KING RICHARD
Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.
TYRREL
I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.]
KING RICHARD
The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match’d in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world goodnight.
Now, for I know the Britagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
[Enter RATCLIFF.]
RATCLIFF
My lord,—
KING RICHARD
Good or bad news, that thou com’st in so bluntly?
RATCLIFF
Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond;
And Buckingham, back’d with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
KING RICHARD
Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come,—I have learn’d that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac’d beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove’s Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. London. Before the Palace
[Enter QUEEN MARGARET.]
QUEEN MARGARET
So, now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk’d
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.—
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?
[Retires.]
[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK.]
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
And be not fix’d in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation!
QUEEN MARGARET
Hover about her; say that right for right
Hath dimm’d your infant morn to agèd night.
DUCHESS
So many miseries have craz’d my voice
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.—
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
QUEEN MARGARET
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst Thou sleep when such a deed was done?
QUEEN MARGARET
When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.
DUCHESS
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurp’d,
Brief abstract and recórd of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,
[Sitting down.]
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
[Sitting down by her.]
QUEEN MARGARET
[Coming forward.]
If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
[Sitting down with them.]
Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine:—
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;
I had a Henry, till a Richard kill’d him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill’d him.
DUCHESS
I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp’st to kill him.
QUEEN MARGARET
Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill’d him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood;
That foul