Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

That it would please thee leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner
And presently repair to Crosby House,
Where, after I have solemnly interred
At Chertsey monast’ry this noble king
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you.
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Anne

With all my heart, and much it joys me, too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

Richard

Bid me farewell.

Anne

                         ʼTis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

^{Exeunt two with Anne.}

Richard

Sirs, take up the corpse.

Gentlemen

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Richard

No, to Whitefriars; there attend my coming.
Exeunt all but Richard with the corpse.
Was ever woman in this humour wooed?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long.
What, I that killed her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by,
Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,
And I no friends to back my suit withal
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since
Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and (no doubt) right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford.
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety?
On me, that halts and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while.
Upon my life, she finds (although I cannot)
Myself to be a marv’lous proper man.
I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass
And entertain a score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body.
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.

^Exit.

Scene 3

^{Enter the queen Mother [Elizabeth], lord Rivers, and lord Grey [and the marquess of Dorset].}

Rivers

Have patience, madam. There’s no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustomed health.

Grey