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The Life of Oscar Wilde. Frank Harris
Читать онлайн.Название The Life of Oscar Wilde
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066051839
Автор произведения Frank Harris
Жанр Зарубежная прикладная и научно-популярная литература
Издательство Bookwire
His sermon and his beard want cutting both:
Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text
From holy Jerome?
MORANZONE [bowing]
My liege, there are some matters -
DUKE [interrupting]
Thou need’st make no excuse for missing mass.
Come, gentlemen.
[Exit with his suite into Cathedral.]
GUIDO [after a pause]
So the Duke sold my father;
I kissed his hand.
MORANZONE Thou shalt do that many times.
GUIDO Must it be so?
MORANZONE Ay! thou hast sworn an oath.
GUIDO That oath shall make me marble.
MORANZONE
Farewell, boy,
Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe.
GUIDO I pray thou comest quickly.
MORANZONE
I will come
When it is time; be ready.
GUIDO Fear me not.
MORANZONE
Here is your friend; see that you banish him
Both from your heart and Padua.
GUIDO
From Padua,
Not from my heart.
MORANZONE
Nay, from thy heart as well,
I will not leave thee till I see thee do it.
GUIDO Can I have no friend?
MORANZONE
Revenge shall be thy friend;
Thou need’st no other.
GUIDO Well, then be it so.
[Enter ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.]
ASCANIO Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in everything, for I have drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and kissed the maid who served it. Why, you look as melancholy as a schoolboy who cannot buy apples, or a politician who cannot sell his vote. What news, Guido, what news?
GUIDO Why, that we two must part, Ascanio.
ASCANIO That would be news indeed, but it is not true.
GUIDO
Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio,
And never look upon my face again.
ASCANIO
No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido;
‘Tis true I am a common yeoman’s son,
Nor versed in fashions of much courtesy;
But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be
Your serving man? I will tend you with more love
Than any hired servant.
GUIDO [clasping his hand]
Ascanio!
[Sees MORANZONE looking at him and drops ASCANIO’S hand.]
It cannot be.
ASCANIO
What, is it so with you?
I thought the friendship of the antique world
Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type
Might even in this poor and common age
Find counterparts of love; then by this love
Which beats between us like a summer sea,
Whatever lot has fallen to your hand
May I not share it?
GUIDO Share it?
ASCANIO Ay!
GUIDO No, no.
ASCANIO
Have you then come to some inheritance
Of lordly castle, or of stored-up gold?
GUIDO [bitterly]
Ay! I have come to my inheritance.
O bloody legacy! and O murderous dole!
Which, like the thrifty miser, must I hoard,
And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you,
Let us part here.
ASCANIO
What, shall we never more
Sit hand in hand, as we were wont to sit,
Over some book of ancient chivalry
Stealing a truant holiday from school,
Follow the huntsmen through the autumn woods,
And watch the falcons burst their tasselled jesses,
When the hare breaks from covert.
GUIDO Never more.
ASCANIO Must I go hence without a word of love?
GUIDO You must go hence, and may love go with you.
ASCANIO You are unknightly, and ungenerous.
GUIDO
Unknightly and ungenerous if you will.
Why should we waste more words about the matter
Let us part now.
ASCANIO Have you no message, Guido?
GUIDO
None; my whole past was but a schoolboy’s dream;
To-day my life begins. Farewell.
ASCANIO Farewell [exit slowly.]
GUIDO
Now are you satisfied? Have you not seen
My dearest friend, and my most loved companion,
Thrust from me like a common kitchen knave!
Oh, that I did it! Are you not satisfied?
MORANZONE
Ay! I am satisfied. Now I go hence,
Do not forget the sign, your father’s dagger,
And do the business when I send it to you.
GUIDO Be sure I shall. [Exit LORD MORANZONE.]
GUIDO
O thou eternal heaven!
If there is aught of nature in my soul,
Of gentle pity, or fond kindliness,
Wither it up, blast it, bring it to nothing,
Or if thou wilt not, then will I myself
Cut pity with a sharp knife from my heart
And strangle mercy in her sleep at night
Lest she speak to me. Vengeance there I have it.
Be thou my comrade and my bedfellow,
Sit by my side, ride to the chase with me,
When I am weary sing me pretty songs,
When I am light o’ heart, make jest with me,
And when I dream, whisper into my ear
The dreadful secret of a father’s murder -
Did I say murder? [Draws his dagger.]
Listen, thou terrible God!
Thou God that punishest all broken oaths,
And