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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      Room for the headsman.

      DUCHESS

      [sinks down]

       Oh!

       [The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder is seen passing the corridor, followed by Monks bearing candles.]

      GUIDO

      Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this poison.

       I do not fear the headsman, but I would die

       Not on the lonely scaffold.

       But here,

       Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell!

       [Goes to the table and takes the goblet up.] What, art thou empty?

       [Throws it to the ground.]

       O thou churlish gaoler,

       Even of poisons niggard!

      DUCHESS

      [faintly]

       Blame him not.

      GUIDO

      O God! you have not drunk it, Beatrice?

       Tell me you have not?

      DUCHESS

      Were I to deny it,

       There is a fire eating at my heart

       Which would find utterance.

      GUIDO

      O treacherous love,

       Why have you not left a drop for me?

      DUCHESS

      No, no, it held but death enough for one.

      GUIDO

      Is there no poison still upon your lips,

       That I may draw it from them?

      DUCHESS

      Why should you die?

       You have not spilt blood, and so need not die:

       I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die.

       Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood?

       Who said that? I forget.

      GUIDO

      Tarry for me,

       Our souls will go together.

      DUCHESS

      Nay, you must live.

       There are many other women in the world

       Who will love you, and not murder for your sake.

      GUIDO

      I love you only.

      DUCHESS

      You need not die for that.

      GUIDO

      Ah, if we die together, love, why then

       Can we not lie together in one grave?

      DUCHESS

      A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed.

      GUIDO

      It is enough for us

      DUCHESS

      And they will strew it

       With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs:

       I think there are no roses in the grave,

       Or if there are, they all are withered now

       Since my Lord went there.

      GUIDO

      Ah! dear Beatrice,

       Your lips are roses that death cannot wither.

      DUCHESS

      Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips

       Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes

       Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms,

       Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart?

      GUIDO

      I do not care: Death has no power on love.

       And so by Love’s immortal sovereignty

       I will die with you.

      DUCHESS

      But the grave is black,

       And the pit black, so I must go before

       To light the candles for your coming hither.

       No, no, I will not die, I will not die.

       Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave;

       Stand between me and the angel of death,

       And wrestle with him for me.

       [Thrusts GUIDO in front of her with his back to the audience.]

       I will kiss you,

       When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial,

       To stay the workings of this poison in me?

       Are there no rivers left in Italy

       That you will not fetch me one cup of water

       To quench this fire?

      GUIDO

      O God!

      DUCHESS

      You did not tell me

       There was a drought in Italy, and no water:

       Nothing but fire.

      GUIDO

      O Love!

      DUCHESS

      Send for a leech,

       Not him who stanched my husband, but another

       We have no time: send for a leech, I say:

       There is an antidote against each poison,

       And he will sell it if we give him money.

       Tell him that I will give him Padua,

       For one short hour of life: I will not die.

       Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me,

       This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know

       It was such pain to die: I thought that life

       Had taken all the agonies to itself;

       It seems it is not so.

      GUIDO

      O damnéd stars

       Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, and bid

       The moon, your mistress, shine no more tonight.

      DUCHESS

      Guido, why are we here? I think this room

       Is poorly furnished for a marriage chamber.

       Let us get hence at once. Where are the horses?

       We should be on our way to Venice now.

       How cold the night is! We must ride faster.

       [The Monks begin to chant outside.]

       Music! It should be merrier; but grief

       Is of the fashion now - I know not why.

       You must not weep: do we not love each other? -

       That is enough. Death, what do you here?

       You were not bidden to this table, sir;

       Away, we have no need of you: I tell you