Читать книгу King Richard the Second - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 2

  KING RICHARD. Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster,

    Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,

    Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,

    Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal,

    Which then our leisure would not let us hear,

    Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

  GAUNT. I have, my liege.

  KING RICHARD. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him

    If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice,

    Or worthily, as a good subject should,

    On some known ground of treachery in him?

  GAUNT. As near as I could sift him on that argument,

    On some apparent danger seen in him

    Aim'd at your Highness-no inveterate malice.

  KING RICHARD. Then call them to our presence: face to face

    And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

    The accuser and the accused freely speak.

    High-stomach'd are they both and full of ire,

    In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

  BOLINGBROKE. Many years of happy days befall

    My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

  MOWBRAY. Each day still better other's happiness

    Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

    Add an immortal title to your crown!

  KING RICHARD. We thank you both; yet one but flatters us,

    As well appeareth by the cause you come;

    Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.

    Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object

    Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

  BOLINGBROKE. First-heaven be the record to my speech!

    In the devotion of a subject's love,

    Tend'ring the precious safety of my prince,

    And free from other misbegotten hate,

    Come I appellant to this princely presence.

    Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,

    And mark my greeting well; for what I speak

    My body shall make good upon this earth,

    Or my divine soul answer it in heaven-

    Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,

    Too good to be so, and too bad to live,

    Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,

    The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

    Once more, the more to aggravate the note,

    With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;

    And wish-so please my sovereign-ere I move,

    What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove.

  MOWBRAY. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal.

    'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

    The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

    Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;

    The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this.

    Yet can I not of such tame patience boast

    As to be hush'd and nought at an to say.

    First, the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me

    From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;

    Which else would post until it had return'd

    These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

    Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

    And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

    I do defy him, and I spit at him,

    Call him a slanderous coward and a villain;

    Which to maintain, I would allow him odds

    And meet him, were I tied to run afoot

    Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

    Or any other ground inhabitable

    Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.

    Meantime let this defend my loyalty-

    By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie

  BOLINGBROKE. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,

    Disclaiming here the kindred of the King;

    And lay aside my high blood's royalty,

    Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.

    If guilty dread have left thee so much strength

    As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop.

    By that and all the rites of knighthood else

    Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,

    What I have spoke or thou canst worst devise.

  MOWBRAY. I take it up; and by that sword I swear

    Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder

    I'll answer thee in any fair degree

    Or chivalrous design of knightly trial;

    And when I mount, alive may I not light

    If I be traitor or unjustly fight!

  KING RICHARD. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?

    It must be great that can inherit us

    So much as of a thought of ill in him.

  BOLINGBROKE. Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true-

    That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles

    In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers,

    The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments

    Like a false traitor and injurious villain.

    Besides, I say and will in battle prove-

    Or here, or elsewhere to the furthest verge

    That ever was survey'd by English eye-

    That all the treasons for these eighteen years

    Complotted and contrived in this land

    Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.

    Further I say, and further will maintain

    Upon his bad life to make all this good,

    That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,

    Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

    And consequently, like a traitor coward,

    Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood;

    Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,

    Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,

    To me for justice and rough chastisement;

    And, by the glorious worth of my descent,

    This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

  KING RICHARD. How high a pitch his resolution soars!

    Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?

  MOWBRAY. O, let my sovereign turn away his face

    And bid his ears a little while be deaf,

    Till I have told this slander of his blood

    How God and good men hate so foul a liar.

  KING RICHARD. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and cars.

    Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,

    As he is but my father's brother's son,

    Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow,

    Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood

    Should nothing privilege him nor partialize

    The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.

    He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:

    Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

  MOWBRAY. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,

    Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.

    Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais

    Disburs'd I duly to his Highness' soldiers;

    The other part reserv'd I by consent,

    For that my sovereign liege was in my debt

    Upon remainder of a dear account

    Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:

    Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death-

    I slew him not, but to my own disgrace

    Neglected my sworn duty in that case.

    For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,

    The honourable father to my foe,

    Once did I lay an ambush for your life,

    A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul;

    But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament

    I did confess it, and exactly begg'd

    Your Grace's pardon; and I hope I had it.

    This is my fault. As for the rest appeal'd,

    It issues from the rancour of a villain,

    A recreant and most degenerate traitor;

    Which in myself I boldly will defend,

    And interchangeably hurl down my gage

    Upon this overweening traitor's foot

    To prove myself a loyal gentleman

    Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom.

    In haste whereof, most heartily I pray

    Your Highness to assign our trial day.

  KING RICHARD. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me;

    Let's purge this choler without letting blood-

    This we prescribe, though no physician;

    Deep malice makes too deep incision.

    Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed:

    Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

    Good uncle, let this end where it begun;

    We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

  GAUNT. To be a make-peace shall become my age.

    Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.

  KING RICHARD. And, Norfolk, throw down his.

  GAUNT. When, Harry, when?

    Obedience bids I should not bid again.

  KING RICHARD. Norfolk, throw down; we bid.

    There is no boot.

  MOWBRAY. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot;

    My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:

    The one my duty owes; but my fair name,

    Despite of death, that lives upon my grave

    To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.

    I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffl'd here;

    Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,

    The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood

    Which breath'd this poison.

  KING RICHARD. Rage must be withstood:

    Give me his gage-lions make leopards tame.

  MOWBRAY. Yea, but not change his spots. Take but my shame,

    And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,

    The purest treasure mortal times afford

    Is spotless reputation; that away,

    Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

    A jewel in a ten-times barr'd-up chest

    Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.

    Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;

    Take honour from me, and my life is done:

    Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;

    In that I live, and for that will I die.

  KING RICHARD. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.

  BOLINGBROKE. O, God defend my soul from such deep sin!

    Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight?

    Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height

    Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue

    Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong

    Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear

    The slavish motive of recanting fear,

    And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,

    Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.

  KING RICHARD. We were not born to sue, but to command;

    Which since we cannot do to make you friends,

    Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,

    At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day.

    There shall your swords and lances arbitrate

    The swelling difference of your settled hate;

    Since we can not atone you, we shall see

    Justice design the victor's chivalry.

    Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms

    Be ready to direct these home alarms. Exeunt