Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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My lord, before I freely speak my mind herein,

You shall not only take the sacrament

To bury mine intents, but also to effect

Whatever I shall happen to devise.

I see your brows are full of discontent,

Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.

Come home with me to supper. I will lay

A plot shall show us all a merry day.

Exeunt

5.1 Enter the Queen, with her Ladies

QUEEN

This way the King will come. This is the way

To Julius Caesar’s ill-erected Tower,

To whose flint bosom my condemned lord

Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.

Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth

Have any resting for her true king’s queen.

Enter Richard ⌈and guard⌉

But soft, but see—or rather do not see—

My fair rose wither. Yet look up, behold,

That you in pity may dissolve to dew,

And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.—

Ah, thou the model where old Troy did stand!

Thou map of honour, thou King Richard’s tomb,

And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn:

Why should hard-favoured grief be lodged in thee,

When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

RICHARD

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul,

To think our former state a happy dream,

From which awaked, the truth of what we are

Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,

To grim necessity, and he and I

Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,

And cloister thee in some religious house.

Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown,

Which our profane hours here have stricken down.

QUEEN

What, is my Richard both in shape and mind

Transformed and weakenèd? Hath Bolingbroke

Deposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?

The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw

And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage

To be o’erpowered; and wilt thou, pupil-like,

Take the correction, mildly kiss the rod,

And fawn on rage with base humility,

Which art a lion and the king of beasts ?

RICHARD

A king of beasts indeed! If aught but beasts,

I had been still a happy king of men.

Good sometimes Queen, prepare thee hence for France.

Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak’st,

As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.

In winter’s tedious nights, sit by the fire

With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales

Of woeful ages long ago betid;

And ere thou bid goodnight, to quit their griefs

Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,

And send the hearers weeping to their beds;

Forwhy the senseless brands will sympathize

The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

And in compassion weep the fire out;

And some will mourn in ashes, some coal black,

For the deposing of a rightful king.

Enter the Earl of Northumberland

NORTHUMBERLAND

My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed.

You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.

And, madam, there is order ta’en for you.

With all swift speed you must away to France.

RICHARD

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

The time shall not be many hours of age

More than it is ere foul sin, gathering head,

Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think,

Though he divide the realm and give thee half,

It is too little helping him to all.

He shall think that thou, which know‘st the way

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

Being ne’er so little urged another way,

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear,

That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both

To worthy danger and deserved death.

NORTHUMBERLAND

My guilt be on my head, and there an end.

Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith.

RICHARD

Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate

A twofold marriage:‘twixt my crown and me,

And then betwixt me and my married wife.

(To the Queen) Let me unkiss the oath ’twixt thee and me—

And yet not so, for with a kiss ‘twas made.

Part us, Northumberland: I towards the north,

Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;

My queen to France, from whence set forth in pomp

She came adorned hither like sweet May,

Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day.

QUEEN

And must we be divided? Must we part?

RICHARD

Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

QUEEN

Banish us both, and send the King with me.

⌈NORTHUMBERLAND⌉

That were some love, but little policy.

QUEEN

Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

RICHARD

So two together weeping make one woe.

Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here.

Better far off than, near, be ne’er the nea’er.

Go count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans.

QUEEN

So longest way shall have the longest moans.

RICHARD

Twice for one step I’ll groan, the way being short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.

Come, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief,

Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.

One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part.

Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.

They kiss

QUEEN

Give me mine own again. ’Twere no good part

To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.

They kiss

So now I have mine own again, be gone,

That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

RICHARD

We make woe wanton with this fond delay.

Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say.

Exeunt FRichard, guarded, and Northumberland at one door, the Queen and her Ladies at another door⌉

5.2 Enter the Duke and Duchess of York

DUCHESS OF YORK

My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,

When weeping made you break the story off,

Of our two cousins’ coming into London.

YORK

Where did I leave?

DUCHESS OF YORK At that sad stop, my lord,

Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ tops

Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.

YORK

Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,

Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,

With slow but stately pace kept on his course,

Whilst all tongues cried ‘God save thee, Bolingbroke!’

You would have thought the very windows spake,

So many greedy looks of young and old

Through casements darted their desiring eyes

Upon his visage, and that all the walls

With painted imagery had said at once,

‘Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!’

Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,

Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed’s neck,

Bespake them thus: ‘I thank you, countrymen’,

And thus still doing, thus he passed along.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?

YORK

As in a theatre the eyes of men,

After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,

Are idly bent on him that enters next,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious,

Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes

Did scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried ‘God save him!’

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home;

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,

Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

His face still combating with tears and smiles,

The badges of his grief and patience,

That had not God for some strong purpose steeled

The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,

And barbarism itself have pitied him.

But heaven hath a hand in these events,

To whose high will we bound our calm contents.

To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,

Whose state and honour I for aye allow.

Enter the Duke of Aumerle

DUCHESS OF YORK

Here comes my son Aumerle.

YORK

Aumerle that was;

But that is lost for being Richard’s friend,

And, madam, you must call him ’Rutland’ now.

I am in Parliament pledge for his truth

And lasting fealty to the new-made King.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?

AUMERLE

Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.

God knows I had as lief be none as one.

YORK

Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,

Lest you be cropped before you come to prime.

What news from Oxford? Hold these jousts and triumphs?

AUMERLE

For aught I know, my lord, they do.

YORK

You will be there, I know.

AUMERLE

If God prevent it not, I purpose so.

YORK

What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom?

Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.

AUMERLE

My lord, ’tis nothing.

YORK

No matter, then, who see it.

I will be satisfied. Let me see the writing.

AUMERLE

I do beseech your grace to pardon me.

It is a matter of small consequence,

Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

YORK

Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.

I fear, I fear!

DUCHESS OF YORK

What should you fear?

‘Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered into

For gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.

YORK

Bound to himself? What doth he with a bond

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.

Boy, let me see the writing.

AUMERLE

I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it.

YORK

I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say.

He plucks it out of Aumerle’s bosom, and reads it

Treason, foul treason ! Villain, traitor, slave !

DUCHESS OF YORK What is the matter, my lord?

YORK

Ho, who is within there? Saddle my horse.—

God for his mercy, what treachery is here I

DUCHESS of YORK Why, what is it, my lord?

YORK

Give me my boots, I say. Saddle my horse.—

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,

I will appeach the villain.

DUCHESS OF YORK What is the matter?

YORK Peace, foolish woman.

DUCHESS OF YORK

I will not peace. What is the matter, son?

AUMERLE

Good mother, be content. It is no more

Than my poor life must answer.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Thy life answer?

YORK

Bring me my boots. I will unto the King.

His man enters with his boots

DUCHESS OF YORK

Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed.

(To York’s man) Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight.

YORK

Give me my boots, I say.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Why, York, what wilt thou do?

Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?

Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?

Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?

And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,

And rob me of a happy mother’s name?

Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?

YORK Thou fond, mad woman,

Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?

A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament,

And interchangeably set down their hands

To kill the King at Oxford.

DUCHESS OF YORK

He shall be none.

We’ll keep him here, then what is that to him?

YORK

Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son

I would appeach him.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Hadst thou groaned for him

As I have done thou wouldst be more pitiful.

But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect

That I have been disloyal to thy bed,

And that he is a bastard, not thy son.

Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind.

He is as like thee as a man may be,

Not like to me or any of my kin,

And yet I love him.

YORK Make way, unruly woman.

Exit ⌈with his man⌉

DUCHESS OF YORK

After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse.

Spur, post, and get before him to the King,

And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.

I’ll not be long behind—though I be old,

I doubt not but to ride as fast as York—

And never will I rise up from the ground

Till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away, be gone I

Exeunt ⌈severally⌉

5.3 Enter Bolingbroke, crowned King Henry, with Harry Percy, and other nobles

KING HENRY

Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?

‘Tis full three months since I did see him last.

If any plague hang over us, ’tis he.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found.

Enquire at London ’mongst the taverns there,

For there, they say, he daily doth frequent

With unrestrained loose companions—

Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes

And beat our watch and rob our passengers—

Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy,

Takes on the point of honour to support

So dissolute a crew.

HARRY PERCY

My lord, some two days since, I saw the Prince,

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

KING HENRY And what said the gallant?

HARRY PERCY

His answer was he would unto the stews,

And from the common’st creature pluck a glove,

And wear it as a favour, and with that

He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.

KING HENRY

As dissolute as desperate. Yet through both

I see some sparks of better hope, which elder days

May happily bring forth.

Enter the Duke of Aumerle, amazed

But who comes here?

AUMERLE Where is the King?

KING HENRY

What means our cousin that he stares and looks so wildly?

AUMERLE (kneeling)

God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty

To have some conference with your grace alone.

KING HENRY (to lords)

Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.

Exeunt all but King Henry and Aumerle

What is the matter with our cousin now?

AUMERLE

For ever may my knees grow to the earth,

My tongue cleave to the roof within my mouth,

Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.

KING HENRY

Intended or committed was this fault?

If on the first, how heinous e’er it be,

To win thy after-love I pardon thee.

AUMERLE (rising)

Then give me leave that I may turn the key,

That no man enter till my tale be done.

KING HENRY

Have thy desire.

Aumerle locks the door.

The Duke of York knocks at the door and crieth

YORK (within) My liege, beware! Look to thyself!

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

King Henry draws his sword

KING HENRY (to Aumerle) Villain, I’ll make thee safe.

AUMERLE

Stay thy revengeful hand! Thou hast no cause to fear.

YORK (knocking within)

Open the door, secure foolhardy King!

Shall I for love speak treason to thy face?

Open the door, or I will break it open.

⌈King Henry⌉ opens the door. Enter the Duke of York

KING HENRY

What is the matter, uncle? Speak,

Recover breath, tell us how near is danger,

That we may arm us to encounter it.

YORK

Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know

The treason that my haste forbids me show.

He gives King Henry the paper

AUMERLE

Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise past.

I do repent me. Read not my name there.

My heart is not confederate with my hand.

YORK

It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.

I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, King.

Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.

Forget to pity him, lest pity prove

A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.

KING HENRY

O, heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,

From whence this stream through muddy passages

Hath held his current and defiled himself,

Thy overflow of good converts to bad,

And thy abundant goodness shall excuse

This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

YORK

So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd,

And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,

As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold.

Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,

Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies.

Thou kill’st me in his life: giving him breath

The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death.

DUCHESS OF YORK (within)

What ho, my liege, for God’s sake let me in!

KING HENRY

What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?

DUCHESS OF YORK (within)

A woman, and thy aunt, great King; ’tis I.

Speak with me, pity me! Open the door!

A beggar begs that never begged before.

KING HENRY

Our scene is altered from a serious thing,

And now changed to ‘The Beggar and the King’.

My dangerous cousin, let your mother in.

I know she is come to pray for your foul sin.

Aumerle opens the door. Enter the Duchess of York

YORK

If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,

More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.

This festered joint cut off, the rest rest sound.

This let alone will all the rest confound.

DUCHESS OF YORK (kneeling)

O King, believe not this hard-hearted man.

Love loving not itself, none other can.

YORK

Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?

DUCHESS OF YORK

Sweet York, be patient.—Hear me, gentle liege.

KING HENRY

Rise up, good aunt.

DUCHESS OF YORK Not yet, I thee beseech.

Forever will I kneel upon my knees,

And never see day that the happy sees,

Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy

By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.

AUMERLE (kneeling)

Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee.

YORK (kneeling)

Against them both my true joints bended be.

Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face.

His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest.

His words come from his mouth; ours from our

breast.

He prays but faintly, and would be denied;

We pray with heart and soul, and all beside.

His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;

Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow.

His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;

Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.

Our prayers do outpray his; then let them have

That mercy which true prayer ought to have.

⌈KING HENRY⌉

Good aunt, stand up.

DUCHESS OF YORK Nay, do not say ‘Stand up’.

Say ‘Pardon’ first, and afterwards ‘Stand up’.

An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,

‘Pardon’ should be the first word of thy speech.

I never longed to hear a word till now.

Say ‘Pardon’, King. Let pity teach thee how.

The word is short, but not so short as sweet;

No word like ’Pardon’ for kings’ mouths so meet.

YORK

Speak it in French, King: say ‘Pardonnez-moi’.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord

That sets the word itself against the word!

Speak ‘Pardon’ as ’tis current in our land;

The chopping French we do not understand.

Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there;

Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,

That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,

Pity may move thee ’Pardon’ to rehearse.

KING HENRY

Good aunt, stand up.

DUCHESS OF YORK I do not sue to stand.

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

KING HENRY

I pardon him as God shall pardon me.

⌈York and Aumerle rise⌉

DUCHESS OF YORK

O, happy vantage of a kneeling knee!

Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again.

Twice saying pardon doth not pardon twain,

But makes one pardon strong.

KING HENRY

I pardon him

With all my heart.

DUCHESS OF YORK (rising) A god on earth thou art.

KING HENRY

But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot,

With all the rest of that consorted crew,

Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.

Good uncle, help to order several powers

To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are.

They shall not live within this world, I swear,

But I will have them if I once know where.

Uncle, farewell; and cousin, so adieu.

Your mother well hath prayed; and prove you true.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Come, my old son. I pray God make thee new.

Exeunt ⌈King Henry at one door; York, the Duchess of York, and Aumerle at another door⌉

5.4 Enter Sir Piers Exton, and his Men

EXTON

Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake?

‘Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?’

Was it not so?

⌈FIRST⌉ MAN Those were his very words.

EXTON

‘Have I no friend?’ quoth he. He spake it twice,

And urged it twice together, did he not?

⌈SECOND⌉ MAN He did.

EXTON

And speaking it, he wishtly looked on me,

As who should say ‘I would thou wert the man

That would divorce this terror from my heart’,

Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let’s go.

I am the King’s friend, and will rid his foe.

Exeunt

5.5 Enter Richard, alone

RICHARD

I have been studying how I may compare

This prison where I live unto the world;

And for because the world is populous,

And here is not a creature but myself,

I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer it out.

My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,

My soul the father, and these two beget

A generation of still-breeding thoughts;

And these same thoughts people this little world

In humours like the people of this world.

For no thought is contented. The better sort,

As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed

With scruples, and do set the faith itself

Against the faith, as thus: ‘Come, little ones’,

And then again,

‘It is as hard to come as for a camel

To thread the postern of a small needle’s eye.’

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails

May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;

And for they cannot, die in their own pride.

Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves

That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,

Nor shall not be the last—like seely beggars,

Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame

That many have, and others must, set there;

And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

Bearing their own misfortunes on the back

Of such as have before endured the like.

Thus play I in one person many people,

And none contented. Sometimes am I king;

Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,

And so I am. Then crushing penury

Persuades me I was better when a king.

Then am I kinged again, and by and by

Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,

And straight am nothing. But whate’er I be,

Nor I, nor any man that but man is,

With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased

With being nothing.

The music plays

Music do I hear.

Ha, ha; keep time! How sour sweet music is

When time is broke and no proportion kept.

So is it in the music of men’s lives.

And here have I the daintiness of ear

To check time broke in a disordered string;

But for the concord of my state and time

Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me,

For now hath time made me his numb‘ring clock.

My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar

Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch

Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,

Is pointing still in cleansing them from tears.

Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is

Are clamorous groans that strike upon my heart,

Which is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans

Show minutes, hours, and times. But my time

Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,

While I stand fooling here, his jack of the clock.

This music mads me. Let it sound no more,

For though it have holp madmen to their wits,

In me it seems it will make wise men mad.

⌈The music ceases⌉

Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me,

For ’tis a sign of love, and love to Richard

Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Enter a Groom of the stable

GROOM

Hail, royal Prince!

RICHARD

Thanks, noble peer.

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.

What art thou, and how com’st thou hither,

Where no man never comes but that sad dog

That brings me food to make misfortune live?

GROOM

I was a poor groom of thy stable, King,

When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,

With much ado at length have gotten leave

To look upon my sometimes royal master’s face.

O, how it erned my heart when I beheld

In London streets, that coronation day,

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,

That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,

That horse that I so carefully have dressed!

RICHARD

Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,

How went he under him?

GROOM

So proudly as if he disdained the ground.

RICHARD

So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back.

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.

Would he not stumble, would he not fall down-

Since pride must have a fall—and break the neck

Of that proud man that did usurp his back?

Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,

Since thou, created to be awed by man,

Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,

And yet I bear a burden like an ass,

Spur-galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper to Richard, with meat

KEEPER (to Groom)

Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay.

RICHARD (to Groom)

If thou love me, ’tis time thou wert away.

GROOM

What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

Exit

KEEPER

My lord, will’t please you to fall to?

RICHARD

Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

KEEPER

My lord, I dare not. Sir Piers of Exton,

Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary.

RICHARD (striking the Keeper)

The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee I

Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

KEEPER Help, help, help!

Exton and his men rush in

RICHARD

How now! What means death in this rude assault?

He seizes a weapon from a man, and kills him

Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.

He kills another

Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

Here Exton strikes him down

RICHARD

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire

That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand

Hath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.

Mount, mount, my soul; thy seat is up on high,

Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.

He dies

EXTON

As full of valour as of royal blood.

Both have I spilt. O, would the deed were good I

For now the devil that told me I did well

Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.

This dead King to the living King I’ll bear.

Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.

Exeunt ⌈Exton with Richard’s body at one door, and his men with the other bodies at another door⌉