Беспокойное бессмертие: 450 лет со дня рождения Уильяма Шекспира

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.

^Embrace.

King Edward

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.

Buckingham

And, in good time,
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the duke.

^{Enter Ratcliffe and Richard.}

Richard

Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen;
And princely peers, a happy time of day.

King Edward

Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
Brother, we have done deeds of charity,
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensèd peers.

Richard

A blessèd labour, my most sovereign lord.
Among this princely heap, if any here
By false intelligence or wrong surmise
Hold me a foe; if I unwittingly or in my rage
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace.
ʼTis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it and desire all good men’s love.
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodged between us;
Of you and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frowned on me;
Of you, Lord Woodville, and Lord Scales, of you;
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen, indeed of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born tonight
I thank my God for my humility.

Elizabeth

A holy day shall this be kept hereafter.
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

Richard

Why, madam, have I offered love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?

^{They all start.}

You do him injury to scorn his corpse.

King Edward

Who knows not he is dead?
Who knows he is?

Elizabeth

All-seeing heaven, what a world is this?

Buckingham

Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

Dorset

Ay, my good lord, and no one in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

King Edward

Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.

Richard