The Dynasts. Томас Харди

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СКАЧАТЬ May we be ready!

      FIRST PASSENGER

       Well, we ought to be. We've had alarms enough, God knows.

       [Some companies of infantry are seen ahead, and the coach presently

       overtakes them.]

      SOLDIERS [singing as they walk]

       We be the King's men, hale and hearty,

       Marching to meet one Buonaparty;

       If he won't sail, lest the wind should blow,

       We shall have marched for nothing, O!

       Right fol-lol!

       We be the King's men, hale and hearty,

       Marching to meet one Buonaparty;

       If he be sea-sick, says “No, no!”

       We shall have marched for nothing, O!

       Right fol-lol!

       [The soldiers draw aside, and the coach passes on.]

      SECOND PASSENGER

       Is there truth in it that Bonaparte wrote a letter to the King last

       month?

      FIRST PASSENGER

       Yes, sir. A letter in his own hand, in which he expected the King

       to reply to him in the same manner.

      SOLDIERS [continuing, as they are left behind]

       We be the King's men, hale and hearty,

       Marching to meet one Buonaparty;

       Never mind, mates; we'll be merry, though

       We may have marched for nothing, O!

       Right fol-lol!

      THIRD PASSENGER

       And was Boney's letter friendly?

      FIRST PASSENGER

       Certainly, sir. He requested peace with the King.

      THIRD PASSENGER

       And why shouldn't the King reply in the same manner?

      FIRST PASSENGER

       What! Encourage this man in an act of shameless presumption, and

       give him the pleasure of considering himself the equal of the King

       of England—whom he actually calls his brother!

      THIRD PASSENGER

       He must be taken for what he is, not for what he was; and if he calls

       King George his brother it doesn't speak badly for his friendliness.

      FIRST PASSENGER

       Whether or no, the King, rightly enough, did not reply in person,

       but through Lord Mulgrave our Foreign Minister, to the effect that

       his Britannic Majesty cannot give a specific answer till he has

       communicated with the Continental powers.

      THIRD PASSENGER

       Both the manner and the matter of the reply are British; but a huge

       mistake.

      FIRST PASSENGER

       Sir, am I to deem you a friend of Bonaparte, a traitor to your

       country—-

      THIRD PASSENGER

       Damn my wig, sir, if I'll be called a traitor by you or any Court

       sycophant at all at all!

       [He unpacks a case of pistols.]

      SECOND PASSENGER

       Gentlemen forbear, forbear! Should such differences be suffered to

       arise on a spot where we may, in less than three months, be fighting

       for our very existence? This is foolish, I say. Heaven alone, who

       reads the secrets of this man's heart, can tell what his meaning and

       intent may be, and if his letter has been answered wisely or no.

       [The coach is stopped to skid the wheel for the descent of the

       hill, and before it starts again a dusty horseman overtakes it.]

      SEVERAL PASSENGERS

       A London messenger! [To horseman] Any news, sir? We are from

       Bristol only.

      HORSEMAN

       Yes; much. We have declared war against Spain, an error giving

       vast delight to France. Bonaparte says he will date his next

       dispatches from London, and the landing of his army may be daily

       expected.

       [Exit horseman.]

      THIRD PASSENGER

       Sir, I apologize. He's not to be trusted! War is his name, and

       aggression is with him!

       [He repacks the pistols. A silence follows. The coach and

       passengers move downwards and disappear towards the coast.]

      SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

       Ill chanced it that the English monarch George

       Did not respond to the said Emperor!

      SPIRIT SINISTER

       I saw good sport therein, and paean'd the Will

       To unimpel so stultifying a move!

       Which would have marred the European broil,

       And sheathed all swords, and silenced every gun

       That riddles human flesh.

      SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

       O say no more;

       If aught could gratify the Absolute

       'Twould verily be thy censure, not thy praise!

      SPIRIT СКАЧАТЬ