Читать книгу Polonius - Victor Cilinca - Страница 11

ACT I

SCENE 4

POLONIUS, DAISY.

POLONIUS

Have you got Her Royal Highness’ collar ready?

DAIS

Yes. She will look more beautiful than ever. The starched white collar hides her delicate double chin wonderfully.

POLONIUS

Let everything be ready! I hope that Master Stocking and Master Sock have already warmed up the divine tights for the night?

DAISY

It goes without saying, sir.

POLONIUS

Very well. Come, let me pinch your cheek, dear! (pinches her). Right. What do you know about my daughter? What are Ophelia’s whereabouts?

DAISY

Your child, shaken by so much reading, is resting in her maiden bower. I suppose she’s practising music, just before going to bed.

POLONIUS

You suppose? What have I ordered you to do?

DAISY

Yes, sir! She doesn’t leave the house anymore, hasn’t received any letters or notes!

POLONIUS

Er...the Prince...has he written anything more to her?

DAISY

Little and hastily, but I have confiscated everything!

POLONIUS

(aside) Little and hastily? Why, in the old days I used to write often! I still have a copy of each letter. But we, the generation of sacrifice, the heroes that built the chain of fortresses we now give up, one by one, to the Norwegians, were full of respect in our letters. We used to write in verse and sign, “He who loves you, doesn’t need to sign.” (to DAISY) Does he bring the letters himself?

DAISY

No, sometimes a servant does it, sometimes a guard, sometimes an actor or a double Norwegian spy. A man has just brought the latest.

POLONIUS

A man? What do you mean “a man”? Whose man is he?

DAISY

I don’t think he belongs to anyone.

POLONIUS

Then he’s unborn. Everyone belongs to someone, especially in politics and administration! (aside) How churlish! To entrust secret letters to someone! What if the newspapers find out again?

DAISY

(aside) The story is notorious anyway. (loud) He’s a poor foreigner, coming from who knows what country that is poorer and has more thieves than ours.

POLONIUS

I’ll have him arrested for one reason or another. It’s a disgrace what’s happening in our high society! In fact, Hamlet’s is only the third royal generation. My family, though, has given a wealth of famous counsellors—even Noah must have had an ancestor of Master Polonius watching over his beasts! There have been so many kings of humble origin raised to the top of the table by some mob rebellion! A wave of boors pushed them to the throne hall, and once there they clawed to the throne and clung to it as the tide ebbed back. But we are the neck that guides the royal head in the right direction! Sometimes a king forgets, or doesn’t know, that he is just a king, subject to those subjects in high positions, like I. We, our clan, had an honourable cupbearer at Louis’ Court (counts on his fingers), a great chef at Charlemagne’s kitchens, a most reliable guard at Constantine the Great’s throne, and an impoverished, though brave, sword-bearer in Caesar’s army. Some Polonius most probably sat at Jesus’ table too—the Last Supper wasn’t called that for nothing. People of humble origin show their true colours even after three generations. Prince Hamlet doesn’t face me openly, yet tries to seduce my daughter, encroaching on her virtue....

DAISY

(aside) That’s one way of putting it.

POLONIUS

(shaking off his glorious memories) Have you confiscated the letter?

DAISY

(taking it out from her bosom) Here it is. Poor child, I fully understand her—she hasn’t even had a good look at him! Only once or twice, in passing. She keeps his picture at her bosom, in his mourning clothes which fit him so well, with a loathsome skull in his hand, having on its back the words, “To be or not to be?” What a question!

POLONIUS

Well at her age, girls are diddled quickly and cured slowly!

DAISY

But she’s seen him only once or twice!

POLONIUS

Too much! Or too little—I wish she’d seen him daily, she might have got over it if she had known the real Hamlet. I’m afraid that neither she nor I will be able to say “No” someday.