Тамара Казавчинская - Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?

To, to, to —

You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

 Are you drawn forth among a world of men
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where are the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? Or who pronounced
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence’ death
Before I be convict by course of law?
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope for any goodness,
By Christ’s dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart and lay no hands on me.
The deed you undertake is damnable.

Erroneous vassals! The great King of kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded
That thou shalt do no murder. Will you then
Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man’s?
Take heed, for he holds vengeance in his hand
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee
For false forswearing and for murder, too.
Thou didst receive the holy sacrament to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

And, like a traitor to the name of God,
Didst break that vow, and with thy treacherous blade
Unripped’st the bowels of thy sovereign’s son.

How canst thou urge God’s dreadful law to us
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?

Alas! For whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake.
He sends you not to murder me for this,
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avengèd for the deed,
Oh, know you yet, he doth it publicly.
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm.
He needs no indirect nor lawless course
To cut off those that have offended him.

Who made thee, then, a bloody minister
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?

Thy brother’s love, our duty, and thy faults
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

If you do love my brother, hate not me.
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you be hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

Oh, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear.
Go you to him from me.

Tell him, when that our princely father York
Blessed his three sons with his victorious arm,
He little thought of this divided friendship.
Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep.

Right, as snow in harvest.
Come, you deceive yourself,
ʼTis he that sent us to destroy you here.

It cannot be, for he bewept my fortune,
He hugged me in his arms, and swore with sobs
That he would labour my delivery.

Why, so he doth, when he delivers you
From this earth’s thraldom to the joys of heaven.

Have you that holy feeling in your souls,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind.
That you will war with God by murdering me?
O sirs, consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.

                  Relent, and save your souls,
Which of you, if you were a prince’s son,
Being pent from liberty, as am I now,
If two such murderers as yourself came to you,
Would not entreat for life as you would beg,
Were you in my distress?

Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks.
Oh, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side and entreat for me;
A begging prince what beggar pities not?

Take that, and that.
(Stabs him.)
                    If all this will not do,
I’ll drown you in the malmsey butt within.

A bloody deed, and desperately dispatched.
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous murder.

How now? what mean’st thou, that thou help’st me not?
By heavens, the duke shall know how slack you have been.

I would he knew that I had saved his brother.
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say,
For I repent me that the duke is slain.

So do not I. Go, coward as thou art.
Well, I’ll go hide the body in some hole
Till that the duke take order for his burial;
And when I have my meed, I must away,
For this will out, and then I must not stay.

Why, so. Now have I done a good day’s work.
You peers, continue this united league.
I every day expect an embassage
From my redeemer to redeem me hence.
And more to peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers and Hastings, take each other’s hand.
Dissemble not your hatred; swear your love.

By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate,
And with my hand I seal my true heart’s love.

Take heed you dally not before your king,
Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
Confound your hidden falsehood and award
Either of you to be the other’s end.

Madam, yourself are not exempt from this,
Nor you, son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you;
You have been factious one against the other,
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand,
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Here, Hastings, I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine.

This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be unviolable.

Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife’s allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your grace, but with all duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love.
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assurèd that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile
Be he unto me. This do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love to you or yours.

A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here
To make the blessèd period of this peace.