KING RICHARD III. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
To bar my master’s heirs in true descent,
God knows I will not do it to the death.
CATESBY
God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!
HASTINGS
But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence,—
That they which brought me in my master’s hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I’ll send some packing that yet think not on’t.
CATESBY
‘Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
When men are unprepar’d and look not for it.
HASTINGS
O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so ‘twill do
With some men else that think themselves as safe
As thou and I; who, as thou knowest, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.
CATESBY
The princes both make high account of you,—
[Aside]
For they account his head upon the bridge.
HASTINGS
I know they do, and I have well deserv’d it.
[Enter STANLEY.]
Come on, come on; where is your boarspear, man?
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?
STANLEY
My lord, good morrow; and good morrow, Catesby:—
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
I do not like these several councils, I.
HASTINGS
My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours;
And never in my days, I do protest,
Was it so precious to me as ‘tis now;
Think you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?
STANLEY
The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London,
Were jocund and suppos’d their states were sure,—
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust;
But yet, you see, how soon the day o’ercast!
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt;
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward.
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.
HASTINGS
Come, come, have with you.—Wot you what, my lord?
To-day the lords you talk’d of are beheaded.
STANLEY
They, for their truth, might better wear their heads
Than some that have accus’d them wear their hats.—
But come, my lord, let’s away.
[Enter a Pursuivant.]
HASTINGS
Go on before; I’ll talk with this good fellow.
[Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY.]
How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee?
PURSUIVANT
The better that your lordship please to ask.
HASTINGS
I tell thee, man, ‘tis better with me now
Than when thou mett’st me last where now we meet:
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen’s allies;
But now, I tell thee,—keep it to thyself,—
This day those enemies are put to death,
And I in better state than e’er I was.
PURSUIVANT
God hold it, to your honour’s good content!
HASTINGS
Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me.
[Throwing him his purse.]
PURSUIVANT
I thank your honour.
[Exit.]
[Enter a PRIEST.]
PRIEST
Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour.
HASTINGS
I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
I am in your debt for your last exercise;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
[Enter BUCKINGHAM.]
BUCKINGHAM
What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain!
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.
HASTINGS
Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talk of came into my mind.—
What, go you toward the Tower?
BUCKINGHAM
I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there;
I shall return before your lordship thence.
HASTINGS
Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.
BUCKINGHAM
[Aside]
And supper too, although thou knowest it not.—
Come, will you go?
HASTINGS
I’ll wait upon your lordship.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle
[Enter RATCLIFF, with Guard, conducting RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to execution.]
RIVERS
Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,—
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.
GREY
God bless the prince from all the pack of you!
A knot you are of damnèd blood-suckers.
VAUGHAN
You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter
.
RATCLIFF
Despatch; the limit of your lives is out.
RIVERS
O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,
Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
Within the guilty closure of thy walls
Richard the Second here was hack’d to death:
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.
GREY
Now Margaret’s curse is fallen upon our heads,