Великий трагик Ричард Бербедж (ок.1567-1619), первый исполнитель главных ролей в шекспировских трагедиях (а также художник), желает, чтобы ему выражали уважение подольше, и вышел на бис.
А я перевела полностью тот текст погребальной элегии в его честь, фрагмент которого перевела раньше. Элегия длинная, но эмоциональная. Конечно, должна способствовать доброй памяти о своем герое и его торжеству над забвением. Во всяком случае, свидетельствует о зрительской любви.
Источник текста оригинала:
Payne Collier J. Memoirs of the principal actors in the plays of Shakespeare. London: Printed for the Shakespeare Society. 1846. P. 52-55.
A Funerall Elegye on the Death of the famous Actor Richard Burbage who died on Saturday in Lent 13 March 1619
Some skilful limner help me! If not so,
Some sad tragedian to express my woe!
Alas! he's gone, that could the best, both limn
And act my grief; and 'tis for only him
That I invoke this strange assistance to it,
And on the point invoke himself to do it;
For none but Tully Tully's praise can tell,
And no man act a grief, or act so well.
He's gone, and with him what a world are dead,
Friends, every one, and what a blank instead!
Take him for all in all, he was a man
Not to be match'd, and no age ever can.
No more young Hamlet, though but scant of breath,
Shall cry "Revenge!" for his dear father's death.
Poor Romeo never more shall tears beget
For Juliet's love and cruel Capulet:
Harry shall not be seen as king or prince,
They died with thee, dear Dick, [and not long since]
Not to revive again. Jeronimo
Shall cease to mourn his son Horatio:
They cannot call thee from thy naked bed
By horrid outcry; and Antonio's dead.
Edward shall lack a representative;
And Crookback, as befits, shall cease to live.
Tyrant Macbeth, with unwash'd, bloody hand,
We vainly now may hope to understand.
Brutus and Marcius henceforth must be dumb,
For ne'er thy like upon the stage shall come,
To charm the faculty of ears and eyes,
Unless we could command the dead to rise.
Vindex is gone, and what a loss was he!
Frankford, Brachiano, and Malevole.
Heart-broke Philaster, and Amintas too,
Are lost for ever; with the red-hair' d Jew,
Which sought the bankrupt merchant's pound of flesh,
By woman-lawyer caught in his own mesh.
What a wide world was in that little space,
Thyself a world the Globe thy fittest place!
Thy stature small, but every thought and mood
Might throughly from thy face be understood;
And his whole action he could change with ease
From ancient Lear to youthful Pericles.
But let me not forget one chiefest part,
Wherein, beyond the rest, he mov'd the heart;
The grieved Moor, made jealous by a slave,
Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave,
Then slew himself upon the bloody bed.
All these and many more are with him dead.
Hereafter must our Poets cease to write.
Since thou art gone, dear Dick, a tragic night
Will wrap our black-hung stage: he made a Poet,
And those who yet remain full surely know it,
For, having Burbage to give forth each line,
It fill'd their brain with fury more divine.
Oft have I seen him leap into the grave,
Suiting the person, which he seem'd to have,
Of a mad lover, with so true an eye,
That there I would have sworn he meant to die.
Oft have I seen him play this part in jest
So lively that spectators, and the rest
Of his sad crew, whilst he but seem'd to bleed,
Amazed, thought even then he died in deed.
O let not me be check'd, and I shall swear
E'en yet it is a false report I hear,
And think that he, that did so truly feign
Is still but dead in jest, to live again.
But now this part he acts, not plays; 'tis known
Other he play's, but acted hath his own,
England's great Roscius! for what was Roscius
Was unto Rome, that Burbage was to us!
How did his speech become him, and his pace
Suit with his speech, and every action grace
Them both alike, whilst not a word did fall
Without just weight to ballast it withal.
Hadst thou but spoke to Death, and us'd thy power
Of thy enchanting tongue, at that first hour
Of his assault, he had let fall his dart
And been quite charm'd by thy all-charming art.
This Death well knew, and to prevent this wrong
He first made seizure of thy wondrous tongue;
Then on the rest: 'twas easy; by degrees
The slender ivy tops the smallest trees.
Poets, whose glory whilom 'twas to hear
Your lines go well express'd, henceforth forbear,
And write no more; or if you do, let't be
In comic scenes, since tragic parts, you see,
Die
Читать далее...