Cymbeline. Уильям Шекспир

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         Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whose

      kindnesses I am

      most infinitely

      tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your

      trust. Leonatus.

      So farre I reade aloud.

      But euen the very middle of my heart

      Is warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully.

      You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I

      Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so

      In all that I can do

         Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:

      What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes

      To see this vaulted Arch, and the rich Crop

      Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixt

      The firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd Stones

      Vpon the number'd Beach, and can we not

      Partition make with Spectacles so pretious

      Twixt faire, and foule?

        Imo. What makes your admiration?

        Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys

      'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, and

      Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:

      For Idiots in this case of fauour, would

      Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.

      Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'd

      Should make desire vomit emptinesse,

      Not so allur'd to feed

         Imo. What is the matter trow?

        Iach. The Cloyed will:

      That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that Tub

      Both fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe,

      Longs after for the Garbage

         Imo. What, deere Sir,

      Thus rap's you? Are you well?

        Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,

      Desire my Man's abode, where I did leaue him:

      He's strange and peeuish

         Pisa. I was going Sir,

      To giue him welcome.

      Enter.

        Imo. Continues well my Lord?

      His health beseech you?

        Iach. Well, Madam

      Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is

         Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,

      So merry, and so gamesome: he is call'd

      The Britaine Reueller

         Imo. When he was heere

      He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times

      Not knowing why

         Iach. I neuer saw him sad.

      There is a Frenchman his Companion, one

      An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues

      A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces

      The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,

      (Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh,

      Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes

      By History, Report, or his owne proofe

      What woman is, yea what she cannot choose

      But must be: will's free houres languish:

      For assured bondage?

        Imo. Will my Lord say so?

        Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,

      It is a Recreation to be by

      And heare him mocke the Frenchman:

      But Heauen's know some men are much too blame

      Imo. Not he I hope

         Iach. Not he:

      But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, might

      Be vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;

      In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.

      Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am bound

      To pitty too

         Imo. What do you pitty Sir?

        Iach. Two Creatures heartyly

         Imo. Am I one Sir?

      You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me

      Deserues your pitty?

        Iach. Lamentable: what

      To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace

      I'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe

         Imo. I pray you Sir,

      Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres

      To my demands. Why do you pitty me?

        Iach. That others do,

      (I was about to say) enioy your- but

      It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

      Not mine to speake on't

         Imo. You do seeme to know

      Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you

      Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more

      Then to be sure they do. For Certainties

      Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,

      The remedy then borne. Discouer to me

      What both you spur and stop

         Iach. Had I this cheeke

      To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,

      (Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule

      To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, which

      Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,

      Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn'd then)

      Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres

      That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands

      Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as

      With labour:) then by peeping in an eye

      Base and illustrious as the smoakie light

      That's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit

      That all the plagues of Hell should at one time

      Encounter such reuolt

         Imo. My Lord, I feare

      Has forgot Brittaine

         Iach. And himselfe, not I

      Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

      The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces

      That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,

      Charmes this report out

      Imo. СКАЧАТЬ