King John - Уильям Шекспир 2 стр.

  KING PHILIP. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
    Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
    Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart
    And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
    By this brave duke came early to his grave;
    And for amends to his posterity,
    At our importance hither is he come
    To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
    And to rebuke the usurpation
    Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.
    Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
  ARTHUR. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death
    The rather that you give his offspring life,
    Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
    I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
    But with a heart full of unstained love;
    Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.
  KING PHILIP. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?
  AUSTRIA. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss
    As seal to this indenture of my love:
    That to my home I will no more return
    Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France,
    Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
    Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides
    And coops from other lands her islanders-
    Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
    That water-walled bulwark, still secure
    And confident from foreign purposes-
    Even till that utmost corner of the west
    Salute thee for her king. Till then, fair boy,
    Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
  CONSTANCE. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,
    Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength
    To make a more requital to your love!
  AUSTRIA. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords
    In such a just and charitable war.
  KING PHILIP. Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent
    Against the brows of this resisting town;
    Call for our chiefest men of discipline,
    To cull the plots of best advantages.
    We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
    Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood,
    But we will make it subject to this boy.
  CONSTANCE. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
    Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood;
    My Lord Chatillon may from England bring
    That right in peace which here we urge in war,
    And then we shall repent each drop of blood
    That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.

  KING PHILIP. A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish,
    Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.
    What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
    We coldly pause for thee. Chatillon, speak.
  CHATILLON. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege
    And stir them up against a mightier task.
    England, impatient of your just demands,
    Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds,
    Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time
    To land his legions all as soon as I;
    His marches are expedient to this town,
    His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
    With him along is come the mother-queen,
    An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;
    With her the Lady Blanch of Spain;
    With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd;
    And all th' unsettled humours of the land-
    Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
    With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens-
    Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
    Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
    To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
    In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits
    Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er
    Did never float upon the swelling tide
    To do offence and scathe in Christendom. [Drum
beats]
    The interruption of their churlish drums
    Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand;
    To parley or to fight, therefore prepare.
  KING PHILIP. How much unlook'd for is this expedition!
  AUSTRIA. By how much unexpected, by so much
    We must awake endeavour for defence,
    For courage mounteth with occasion.
    Let them be welcome then; we are prepar'd.

  KING JOHN. Peace be to France, if France in peace permit
    Our just and lineal entrance to our own!
    If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven,
    Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
    Their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven!
  KING PHILIP. Peace be to England, if that war return
    From France to England, there to live in peace!
    England we love, and for that England's sake
    With burden of our armour here we sweat.
    This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
    But thou from loving England art so far
    That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,
    Cut off the sequence of posterity,
    Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
    Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
    Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face:
    These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his;
    This little abstract doth contain that large
    Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time
    Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.
    That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
    And this his son; England was Geffrey's right,
    And this is Geffrey's. In the name of God,
    How comes it then that thou art call'd a king,
    When living blood doth in these temples beat
    Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest?
  KING JOHN. From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
    To draw my answer from thy articles?
  KING PHILIP. From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts
    In any breast of strong authority
    To look into the blots and stains of right.
    That judge hath made me guardian to this boy,
    Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
    And by whose help I mean to chastise it.
  KING JOHN. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
  KING PHILIP. Excuse it is to beat usurping down.
  ELINOR. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?
  CONSTANCE. Let me make answer: thy usurping son.
  ELINOR. Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king,
    That thou mayst be a queen and check the world!
  CONSTANCE. My bed was ever to thy son as true
    As thine was to thy husband; and this boy
    Liker in feature to his father Geffrey
    Than thou and John in manners-being as Eke
    As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
    My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think
    His father never was so true begot;
    It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother.
  ELINOR. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
  CONSTANCE. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.
  AUSTRIA. Peace!
  BASTARD. Hear the crier.
  AUSTRIA. What the devil art thou?
  BASTARD. One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
    An 'a may catch your hide and you alone.
    You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
    Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard;
    I'll smoke your skin-coat an I catch you right;
    Sirrah, look to 't; i' faith I will, i' faith.
  BLANCH. O, well did he become that lion's robe
    That did disrobe the lion of that robe!
  BASTARD. It lies as sightly on the back of him
    As great Alcides' shows upon an ass;
    But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back,
    Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.
  AUSTRIA. What cracker is this same that deafs our ears
    With this abundance of superfluous breath?
    King Philip, determine what we shall do straight.
  KING PHILIP. Women and fools, break off your conference.
    King John, this is the very sum of all:
    England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
    In right of Arthur, do I claim of thee;
    Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms?
  KING JOHN. My life as soon. I do defy thee, France.
    Arthur of Britaine, yield thee to my hand,
    And out of my dear love I'll give thee more
    Than e'er the coward hand of France can win.
    Submit thee, boy.
  ELINOR. Come to thy grandam, child.
  CONSTANCE. Do, child, go to it grandam, child;
    Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will
    Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig.
    There's a good grandam!
  ARTHUR. Good my mother, peace!
    I would that I were low laid in my grave:
    I am not worth this coil that's made for me.
  ELINOR. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
  CONSTANCE. Now shame upon you, whe'er she does or no!
    His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames,
    Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
    Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee;
    Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd
    To do him justice and revenge on you.
  ELINOR. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!
  CONSTANCE. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth,
    Call not me slanderer! Thou and thine usurp
    The dominations, royalties, and rights,
    Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest son's son,
    Infortunate in nothing but in thee.
    Thy sins are visited in this poor child;
    The canon of the law is laid on him,
    Being but the second generation
    Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
  KING JOHN. Bedlam, have done.
  CONSTANCE. I have but this to say-
    That he is not only plagued for her sin,
    But God hath made her sin and her the plague
    On this removed issue, plagued for her
    And with her plague; her sin his injury,
    Her injury the beadle to her sin;
    All punish'd in the person of this child,
    And all for her-a plague upon her!
  ELINOR. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
    A will that bars the title of thy son.
  CONSTANCE. Ay, who doubts that? A will, a wicked will;
    A woman's will; a cank'red grandam's will!
  KING PHILIP. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate.
    It ill beseems this presence to cry aim
    To these ill-tuned repetitions.
    Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
    These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak
    Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's.

  CITIZEN. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls?
  KING PHILIP. 'Tis France, for England.
  KING JOHN. England for itself.
    You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects-
  KING PHILIP. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,
    Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle-
  KING JOHN. For our advantage; therefore hear us first.
    These flags of France, that are advanced here
    Before the eye and prospect of your town,
    Have hither march'd to your endamagement;
    The cannons have their bowels full of wrath,
    And ready mounted are they to spit forth
    Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls;
    All preparation for a bloody siege
    And merciless proceeding by these French
    Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
    And but for our approach those sleeping stones
    That as a waist doth girdle you about
    By the compulsion of their ordinance
    By this time from their fixed beds of lime
    Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
    For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
    But on the sight of us your lawful king,
    Who painfully with much expedient march
    Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
    To save unscratch'd your city's threat'ned cheeks-
    Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle;
    And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
    To make a shaking fever in your walls,
    They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke,
    To make a faithless error in your cars;
    Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
    And let us in-your King, whose labour'd spirits,
    Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
    Craves harbourage within your city walls.
  KING PHILIP. When I have said, make answer to us both.
    Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
    Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
    Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
    Son to the elder brother of this man,
    And king o'er him and all that he enjoys;
    For this down-trodden equity we tread
    In warlike march these greens before your town,
    Being no further enemy to you
    Than the constraint of hospitable zeal
    In the relief of this oppressed child
    Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
    To pay that duty which you truly owe
    To him that owes it, namely, this young prince;
    And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
    Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up;
    Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
    Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven;
    And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
    With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd,
    We will bear home that lusty blood again
    Which here we came to spout against your town,
    And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
    But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
    'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
    Can hide you from our messengers of war,
    Though all these English and their discipline
    Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
    Then tell us, shall your city call us lord
    In that behalf which we have challeng'd it;
    Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
    And stalk in blood to our possession?
  CITIZEN. In brief: we are the King of England's subjects;
    For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
  KING JOHN. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.
  CITIZEN. That can we not; but he that proves the King,
    To him will we prove loyal. Till that time
    Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world.
  KING JOHN. Doth not the crown of England prove the King?
    And if not that, I bring you witnesses:
    Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed-
  BASTARD. Bastards and else.
  KING JOHN. To verify our title with their lives.
  KING PHILIP. As many and as well-born bloods as those-
  BASTARD. Some bastards too.
  KING PHILIP. Stand in his face to contradict his claim.
  CITIZEN. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
    We for the worthiest hold the right from both.
  KING JOHN. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls
    That to their everlasting residence,
    Before the dew of evening fall shall fleet
    In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!
  KING PHILIP. Amen, Amen! Mount, chevaliers; to arms!
  BASTARD. Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since
    Sits on's horse back at mine hostess' door,
    Teach us some fence! [To AUSTRIA] Sirrah, were I at home,
    At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,
    I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
    And make a monster of you.
  AUSTRIA. Peace! no more.
  BASTARD. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar!
  KING JOHN. Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth
    In best appointment all our regiments.
  BASTARD. Speed then to take advantage of the field.
  KING PHILIP. It shall be so; and at the other hill
    Command the rest to stand. God and our right!

  FRENCH HERALD. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates
    And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in,
    Who by the hand of France this day hath made
    Much work for tears in many an English mother,
    Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground;
    Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
    Coldly embracing the discoloured earth;
    And victory with little loss doth play
    Upon the dancing banners of the French,
    Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,
    To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
    Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours.

  ENGLISH HERALD. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells:
    King John, your king and England's, doth approach,
    Commander of this hot malicious day.
    Their armours that march'd hence so silver-bright
    Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood.
    There stuck no plume in any English crest
    That is removed by a staff of France;
    Our colours do return in those same hands
    That did display them when we first march'd forth;
    And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come
    Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
    Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.
    Open your gates and give the victors way.
  CITIZEN. Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold
    From first to last the onset and retire
    Of both your armies, whose equality
    By our best eyes cannot be censured.
    Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows;
    Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power;
    Both are alike, and both alike we like.
    One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even,
    We hold our town for neither, yet for both.