The Shakespeare Story-Book. Уильям Шекспир

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ He suggested that he should try to please her with poetry and music, and that he should bring musicians, and sing a serenade by night under her chamber window. Thurio said he would put the plan in practice that very night; he knew some gentlemen well skilled in music, and he had a song written that would be just suitable. As for the Duke, he was delighted with the suggestion, and bade them set to work at once to carry it into effect.

      Meanwhile, in Verona, Julia was sorrowing for the absence of Proteus, and at last her longing to see him again grew so keen that she determined to follow him to Milan. Her waiting-maid, Lucetta, who had plenty of shrewd common-sense, tried to persuade her not to go, but Julia would listen to no reason.

      “I feel as if I were dying with starvation until I see him again,” she said. “If you only knew what it is to love anyone, you would know how utterly useless it is to try to argue about it in words.”

      As a young and beautiful lady travelling alone would be likely to attract a good deal of notice, for safety’s sake Julia decided to adopt the dress of a page, and she bade Lucetta procure for her all that was necessary to play the part properly. In vain Lucetta tried to warn her that perhaps Proteus would not be pleased to see her. Many men were fickle and changeable, she said; they often pretended much more affection than they really felt.

      Julia indignantly replied that some men might, but not her Proteus. Her trust in his fidelity was not to be shaken.

      “His words are bonds, his oaths cannot be broken, his love is sincere, his thoughts are stainless, his tears are pure messengers straight from heaven, his heart is as free from fraud as heaven from earth!” she cried.

      “Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him!” said the shrewd waiting-woman.

      So the faithful, loving Julia set out on her journey to Milan. Alas, poor lady, she little knew what a sorry welcome was awaiting her!

      “Alas, poor Lady, desolate and left!”

      Proteus soon found that his scheme for winning Silvia met with small success. He had already been false to Valentine, and now he intended to be false to Sir Thurio; but his treachery was likely to be of little avail. Silvia was far too good and true to be corrupted by his worthless gifts. When he protested his loyalty to her, she twitted him with his falsehood to his absent friend; when he praised her beauty, she bade him remember how he had been forsworn in breaking faith with Julia, whom he loved. But, notwithstanding all her rebuffs and rebukes, the more she spurned Proteus the greater grew his admiration for her; and though he knew well how basely he was acting both to Valentine and Julia, he had not enough strength of mind to turn aside from the temptation.

      That night, in accordance with what they had arranged, Sir Thurio brought a band of musicians, and they sang a charming serenade outside the Duke of Milan’s palace, under Silvia’s chamber. This is the pretty song they sang:

      “Who is Silvia? What is she,

      That all our swains commend her?

      Holy, fair and wise is she;

      The heaven such grace did lend her,

      That she might admired be.

      “Is she kind as she is fair?

      For beauty lives with kindness.

      Love doth to her eyes repair,

      To help him of his blindness.

      And, being help’d, inhabits there.

      “Then to Silvia let us sing,

      That Silvia is excelling;

      She excels each mortal thing

      Upon the dull earth dwelling:

      To her, garlands let us bring.”

      Unknown to Proteus, there was another listener, of whom he little recked.

      Julia, on arriving at Milan, had made inquiries for her faithless lover, and the landlord of the house where she lodged had brought her to this spot to see the man for whom she had been inquiring. Now, in her page’s costume, she was a witness of her lover’s inconstancy. Proteus had sworn a thousand vows of love to her, and yet here he was plainly playing court to another lady! Poor Julia! Sweet as the music was, it had little charm for her; she heard only the jarring discord of her lover’s false words.

      “Doth this Sir Proteus that we speak of often come to visit this gentlewoman?” she asked her host.

      “I tell you what Launce, his man, told me – he loves her beyond all measure,” replied the host.

      “Peace, stand aside, they are going,” said Julia, stepping further back into the shadow; and she heard Proteus say:

      “Sir Thurio, do not fear; I will plead your cause so well that you will own my cunning wit is matchless.”

      “Where do we meet?” asked Sir Thurio, as he prepared to depart with the musicians.

      “At St. Gregory’s Well.”

      “Farewell!”

      And Proteus was left alone as Silvia appeared on the balcony of her window above.

      “Madam, good even to your ladyship,” said Proteus.

      “I thank you for your music, gentlemen. Who was that who spoke?”

      “One, lady, whom – if you knew his true heart – you would quickly learn to know by his voice.”

      “Sir Proteus, as I take it.”

      “Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.”

      “What is your will?”

      “That I may fulfil yours.”

      “You have your wish. My will is this: that you immediately go home to bed, you subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man! Do you think I am so shallow, so witless, as to be won by your flattery – you, who have deceived so many with your vows! Return, return, and make amends to your own lady. As for me, I swear by this moon that I am so far from granting your request that I despise you for your wrongful suit, and could chide myself even for the time I spend in talking to you.”

      “I grant that I did love a lady,” said Proteus, “but she is dead.”

      “Supposing that she is, yet Valentine, your friend, is alive, to whom you yourself are witness that I am betrothed. Are you not ashamed to wrong him with this persistency?”

      “I hear likewise that Valentine is dead.”

      “Imagine, then, that I am also dead; for, be assured, my love is buried in his grave.”

      “Sweet lady, let me take it from the earth.”

      “Go to your own lady’s grave, and call her love thence, or, at least, bury your own in hers.”

      “Madam, if your heart is so pitiless, yet grant me your picture, for the sake of my love. For since you yourself are devoted elsewhere, I am but a shadow, and to your shadow will I give my love.”

      “I am very loath to be your idol, sir, but since it suits your falsehood to admire shadows, send to me in the morning, and I will send the picture. And so, good rest!”

      “As wretches have overnight who wait for execution in the morning,” said Proteus.

      Poor Julia overheard all this conversation СКАЧАТЬ