Oscar Wilde: The Complete Works. Knowledge house. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

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with him enters also the Lord Cardinal; the mob still shouting.

      duke

      No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her!

      Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good.

      maffio [excitedly]

      Your Grace, there are two thousand people there

      Who every moment grow more clamorous.

      ·38· duke

      Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs!

      People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing;

      The only men I fear are silent men.

      [A yell from the people.]

      You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love me.

      [Another yell.]

      Go, Petrucci,

      And tell the captain of the guard below

      To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir?

      Do what I bid you.

      [Exit Petrucci.]

      cardinal

      I beseech your Grace

      To listen to their grievances.

      duke [sitting on his throne]

      Ay! the peaches

      Are not so big this year as they were last.

      I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal,

      I thought you spake of peaches.

      [A cheer from the people.]

      What is that?

      ·39· guido [rushes to the window]

      The Duchess has gone forth into the square,

      And stands between the people and the guard,

      And will not let them shoot.

      duke

      The devil take her!

      guido [still at the window]

      And followed by a dozen of the citizens

      Has come into the Palace.

      duke [starting up]

      By Saint James,

      Our Duchess waxes bold!

      bardi

      Here comes the Duchess.

      duke

      Shut that door there; this morning air is cold.

      [They close the door on the corridor.]

      [Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed Citizens.]

      duchess [flinging herself upon her knees]

      I do beseech your Grace to give us audience.

      ·40· duke

      What are these grievances?

      duchess

      Alas, my Lord,

      Such common things as neither you nor I,

      Nor any of these noble gentlemen,

      Have ever need at all to think about;

      They say the bread, the very bread they eat,

      Is made of sorry chaff.

      first citizen

      Ay! so it is,

      Nothing but chaff.

      duke

      And very good food too,

      I give it to my horses.

      duchess [restraining herself]

      They say the water,

      Set in the public cisterns for their use,

      [Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,]

      To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned.

      duke

      They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome.

      ·41· second citizen

      Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs

      Take at the city gate are grown so high

      We cannot buy wine.

      duke

      Then you should bless the taxes

      Which make you temperate.

      duchess

      Think, while we sit

      In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty

      Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives

      Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily

      And no word said.

      third citizen

      Ay! marry, that is true,

      My little son died yesternight from hunger;

      He was but six years old; I am so poor,

      I cannot bury him.

      duke

      If you are poor,

      Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty

      ·42· Is one of the Christian virtues,

      [Turns to the Cardinal.]

      Is it not?

      I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues,

      Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates

      For preaching voluntary poverty.

      duchess

      Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous;

      While we sit here within a noble house

      [With shaded porticoes against the sun,

      And walls and roofs to keep the winter out],

      There are many citizens of Padua

      Who in vile tenements live so full of holes,

      That the chill rain, the snow, and the rude blast,

      Are tenants also with them; others sleep

      Under the arches of the public bridges

      All through the autumn nights, till the wet mist

      Stiffens their limbs, and fevers come, and so——

      duke

      And so they go to Abraham’s bosom, Madam.

      They should thank me for sending them to Heaven,

      ·43· If they are wretched here.

      [To the Cardinal.]

      Is it not said

      Somewhere in Holy Writ, that every man

      Should be contented with that state of life

      God calls him to? Why should I change their state,

      Or meddle with an all-wise providence,

      Which has apportioned that some men should starve,

      And others surfeit? I did not make the world.

      first citizen

      He hath a hard heart.