Читать книгу King Richard III (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 23

[Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS of YORK, and MARQUIS of DORSET; on the other, ANNE DUCHESS of GLOSTER, leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE’s young daughter.]

DUCHESS

Who meets us here?—my niece Plantagenet,

Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster?

Now, for my life, she’s wandering to the Tower,

On pure heart’s love, to greet the tender princes.—

Daughter, well met.

ANNE

God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day!

QUEEN ELIZABETH

As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

ANNE

No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,

Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Kind sister, thanks; we’ll enter all together:—

And in good time, here the lieutenant comes.

[Enter BRAKENBURY.]

Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,

How doth the prince, and my young son of York?

BRAKENBURY

Right well, dear madam. By your patience,

I may not suffer you to visit them.

The king hath strictly charg’d the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

The king! who’s that?

BRAKENBURY

I mean the lord protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

The Lord protect him from that kingly title!

Hath he set bounds between their love and me?

I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?

DUCHESS

I am their father’s mother; I will see them.

ANNE

Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:

Then bring me to their sights; I’ll bear thy blame,

And take thy office from thee on my peril.

BRAKENBURY

No, madam, no,—I may not leave it so:

I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.

[Exit.]

[Enter STANLEY.]

STANLEY

Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,

And I’ll salute your grace of York as mother

And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.—

[To the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER.]

Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,

There to be crownèd Richard’s royal queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Ah, cut my lace asunder,

That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,

Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!

ANNE

Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

DORSET

Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone!

Death and destruction dog thee at thy heels;

Thy mother’s name is ominous to children.

If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,

And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell:

Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughterhouse,

Lest thou increase the number of the dead;

And make me die the thrall of Margaret’s curse,

Nor mother, wife, nor England’s counted queen.

STANLEY

Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.—

Take all the swift advantage of the hours;

You shall have letters from me to my son

In your behalf, to meet you on the way:

Be not ta’en tardy by unwise delay.

DUCHESS

O ill-dispersing wind of misery!—

O my accursèd womb, the bed of death!

A cockatrice hast thou hatch’d to the world,

Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

STANLEY

Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

ANNE

And I with all unwillingness will go.—

O, would to God that the inclusive verge

Of golden metal that must round my brow

Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain !

Anointed let me be with deadly venom,

And die ere men can say God save the queen!

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory;

To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

ANNE

No, why?—When he that is my husband now

Came to me, as I follow’d Henry’s corse;

When scarce the blood was well wash’d from his hands

Which issued from my other angel husband,

And that dear saint which then I weeping follow’d;

O, when, I say, I look’d on Richard’s face,

This was my wish,—“Be thou,” quoth I, “accurs’d

For making me, so young, so old a widow!

And when thou wedd’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;

And be thy wife,—if any be so mad,—

More miserable by the life of thee

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord’s death!”

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Within so small a time, my woman’s heart

Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov’d the subject of mine own soul’s curse,—

Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest;

For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak’d.

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

ANNE

No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

DORSET

Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!

ANNE

Adieu, poor soul, that tak’st thy leave of it!

DUCHESS

[To DORSET]

Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!—

[To ANNE]

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!—

[To QUEEN ELIZABETH]

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour’s joy wreck’d with a week of teen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Stay yet, look back with me unto the Tower.—

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes

Whom envy hath immur’d within your walls!

Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!

Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow

For tender princes, use my babies well!

So foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell.

[Exeunt.]