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圣塞巴斯蒂安 Botticelli1473

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十字架上的基督 Velazquez 1633

莎翁原作中理查二世在杀死几个刺杀者后才死亡,影版对这个结局进行了改编。理查二世直接中箭而死,脆弱如十字架上的耶稣,俊美如受难的圣塞巴斯蒂安,影版的结尾少了悲壮,更加深了悲剧性与肉体的受难感。人被抛掷在世界上,纵使作为君主,人也无法控制命运,也要质问世界——质问抛弃自己的神和世界。上帝使我生而为英王,而英王竟然不是我的命运,这是谬论吧,这是玩笑吧,而这竟是不可接受的现实。

理查二世咒骂所有人都是犹大——犹大为了三十个金币出卖耶稣,他和众人约定,他见面亲吻的那个人就是耶稣,大家见他的亲吻就把这个人抓起来。纣王呜呼而问“我不有命在天乎?” 在某种程度上,突然发现自己被抛弃的君王就像一个虔诚信仰自己是救主基督的信徒,某天被钉上十字架才发现自己原来联系不上上帝,于是死亡再也没有其它救赎意义,只留下一地残忍的血,意味着一次杀害。

天命太玄,耶稣如果不救世人则不能死而复活,君王离弃臣民正如耶稣放弃成为救主,于是死亡背后只剩下无边的死亡,再无任何希望。

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犹大之吻 Giotto 1304-1306

清白的良心就像一个温柔的羽毛枕头,然而戴着王冠的头颅不能安睡,成为君主的亨利四世首先从旧王那里学会了无法逃避血腥和阴谋。王冠的本质在空出的中心,黄金与珠宝包围出一片空虚,吞噬一切的空虚、傲慢而隔绝的空虚,权力背后的虚无如同一个圆,周而复始,永无尽时。

————下面是朱生豪译文————

让我们谈谈坟墓,蛆虫,和墓碑吧;让我们以泥土为纸,用我们淋雨的眼睛在大地的胸膛上写下我们的悲哀;让我们找几个遗产管理人,商议我们的遗嘱,——可是这也不必,因为我们除了把一具尸骸还给大地以外,还有什么可以遗留给后人的呢?我们的土地,我们的生命,一切都是波林勃洛克的,只有死亡和掩埋我们骨骼的一抔黄土,才可以称为属于我们自己所有。

为了上帝的缘故,让我们坐在地上,讲些关于国王们的死亡的悲惨的故事;有些是被人废立的,有些是在战场上阵亡的,有些是被他们所废黜的鬼魂们魔祟的,有些是被他们的妻子所毒毙的,有些是在睡梦中被杀的,全都不得善终;

因为在那围绕着一个凡世的国王头上的这顶空洞的王冠之内,正就是死神驻节的宫庭,这妖魔高坐在里边,揶揄他的尊严,姗笑他的荣华,给他一段短短的呼吸的时间,让他在舞台上露一露脸,使他君临万民,受尽众人的敬畏,一眨眼就可以致人于死命,把妄自尊大的思想灌注他的心头,仿佛这包藏着我们生命的血肉的皮囊,是一堵不可摧毁的铜墙铁壁一样;当他这样志得意满的时候,却不知道他的末日已经临近眼前,一枚小小的针就可以刺破他的壁垒,于是再会吧,国王!

戴上你们的帽子;不要把严肃的敬礼施在一个凡人的身上;丢开传统的礼貌,仪式的虚文,因为你们这一向来都把我认错了;像你们一样,我也靠着面包生活,我也有欲望,我也尝味着悲哀,我也需要朋友;既然如此,你们怎么能对我说我是一个国王呢?

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs, Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors and talk of wills. And yet not so; for what can we be queath Save our deposèd bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives and all are Bullingbrook's, And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

For heaven's sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings: How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed, All murdered. For within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the anticsits, Scoffing his stateand grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared and kill with looks, Infusing him with selfand vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable. And humoured thus, Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle walls, and farewell king!

Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence. Throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends. Subjectedthus, How can you say to me, I am a king?