Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

 And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
Oh, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee the troubler of the poor world’s peace.
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul.
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv’st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends.
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils.
Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog,
Thou that wast sealed in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell.
Thou slander of thy heavy mother’s womb,
Thou loath`ed issue of thy father’s loins,
Thou rag of honour, thou detested —

Richard

               Margaret.

Margaret

Richard.

Richard

Ha?

Margaret

I call thee not.

Richard

I cry thee mercy then, for I did think
That thou hadst called me all these bitter names.

Margaret

Why so I did, but looked for no reply.
Oh, let me make the period to my curse.

Richard

’Tis done by me, and ends in ’Margaret’.

Elizabeth

Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.

Margaret

Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune,
Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet’st a knife to kill thyself.
The time will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse that poisonous bunch-backed toad.

Hastings

False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.

Margaret

Foul shame upon you. You have all moved mine.

Rivers

Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

Margaret

To serve me well, you all should do me duty,
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects;
Oh, serve me well and teach yourselves that duty.

Dorset

Dispute not with her. She is lunatic.

Margaret

Peace, master marquess, you are malapert.
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
Oh, that your young nobility could judge
What ’twere to lose it and be miserable.
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Richard

Good counsel, marry. Learn it, learn it, marquess.

Dorset

It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me.

Richard

Ay, and much more. But I was born so high.
Our aerie buildeth in the cedar’s top,
And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.

Margaret

And turns the sun to shade, alas, alas.
Witness my son, now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aerie buildeth in our aerie’s nest.
O God that seest it, do not suffer it;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so.

Buckingham

Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.

Margaret