The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: 150+ Titles in One Edition. Oscar Wilde. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Oscar Wilde
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 9788027237197
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You bring me but cold comfort.

      CARDINAL

      Nay, my son,

       For the great power of our mother Church,

       Ends not with this poor bubble of a world,

       Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith,

       For if the sinner doth repentant die,

       Our prayers and holy masses much avail

       To bring the guilty soul from purgatory.

      DUCHESS

      And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord

       With that red star of blood upon his heart,

       Tell him I sent thee hither.

      GUIDO

      O dear God!

      MORANZONE

      This is the woman, is it, whom you loved?

      CARDINAL

      Your Grace is very cruel to this man.

      DUCHESS

      No more than he was cruel to her Grace.

      CARDINAL

      Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes.

      DUCHESS

      I got no mercy, and I give it not.

       He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone,

       He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field,

       He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast,

       He hath withered up all kindness at the root;

       My life is as some famine murdered land,

       Whence all good things have perished utterly:

       I am what he hath made me.

       [The DUCHESS weeps.]

      JEPPO

      Is it not strange

       That she should so have loved the wicked Duke?

      MAFFIO

      It is most strange when women love their lords,

       And when they love them not it is most strange.

      JEPPO

      What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci!

      MAFFIO

      Ay! I can bear the ills of other men,

       Which is philosophy.

      DUCHESS

      They tarry long,

       These greybeards and their council; bid them come;

       Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart

       Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed,

       That I here care to live; God knows my life

       Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that,

       I would not die companionless, or go

       Lonely to Hell.

       Look, my Lord Cardinal,

       Canst thou not see across my forehead here,

       In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge?

       Fetch me some water, I will wash it off:

       ‘Twas branded there last night, but in the daytime

       I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal?

       Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain:

       Give me a knife; not that one, but another,

       And I will cut it out.

      CARDINAL

      It is most natural

       To be incensed against the murderous hand

       That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord.

      DUCHESS

      I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand;

       But it will burn hereafter.

      CARDINAL

      Nay, the Church

       Ordains us to forgive our enemies.

      DUCHESS

      Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it.

       They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well.

       [Enter the LORD JUSTICE.]

      LORD JUSTICE

      Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege,

       We have long pondered on the point at issue,

       And much considered of your Grace’s wisdom,

       And never wisdom spake from fairer lips -

      DUCHESS

      Proceed, sir, without compliment.

      LORD JUSTICE

      We find,

       As your own Grace did rightly signify,

       That any citizen, who by force or craft

       Conspires against the person of the Liege,

       Is ipso facto outlaw, void of rights

       Such as pertain to other citizens,

       Is traitor, and a public enemy,

       Who may by any casual sword be slain

       Without the slayer’s danger; nay, if brought

       Into the presence of the tribunal,

       Must with dumb lips and silence reverent

       Listen unto his well-deserved doom,

       Nor has the privilege of open speech.

      DUCHESS

      I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily;

       I like your law: and now I pray dispatch

       This public outlaw to his righteous doom;

       What is there more?

      LORD JUSTICE

      Ay, there is more, your Grace.

       This man being alien born, not Paduan,

       Nor by allegiance bound unto the Duke,

       Save such as common nature doth lay down,

       Hath, though accused of treasons manifold,

       Whose slightest penalty is certain death,

       Yet still the right of public utterance

       Before the people and the open court;

       Nay, shall be much entreated by the Court,

       To make some formal pleading for his life,

       Lest his own city, righteously incensed,

       Should with an unjust trial tax our state,

       And wars spring up against the commonwealth:

       So merciful are the laws of Padua

       Unto the stranger living in her gates.

      DUCHESS

      Being of my Lord’s household, is he stranger here?

      LORD JUSTICE

      Ay, until seven years of service spent

       He cannot be a Paduan citizen.

      GUIDO

      I