The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ SPEED.

       ‘Here follow her vices.’

       LAUNCE.

       Close at the heels of her virtues.

       SPEED. ‘Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.’

       LAUNCE.

       Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast.

       Read on.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She hath a sweet mouth.’

       LAUNCE.

       That makes amends for her sour breath.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She doth talk in her sleep.’

       LAUNCE.

       It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She is slow in words.’

       LAUNCE. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a woman’s only virtue. I pray thee, out with’t; and place it for her chief virtue.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She is proud.’

       LAUNCE. Out with that too: it was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She hath no teeth.’

       LAUNCE.

       I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She is curst.’

       LAUNCE.

       Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She will often praise her liquor.’

       LAUNCE. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She is too liberal.’

       LAUNCE. Of her tongue she cannot, for that’s writ down she is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that I’ll keep shut. Now of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

       SPEED. ‘Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.’

       LAUNCE. Stop there; I’ll have her; she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more.

       SPEED.

       ‘Item, She hath more hair than wit’—

       LAUNCE. More hair than wit it may be; I’ll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What’s next?

       SPEED.

       ‘And more faults than hairs.’—

       LAUNCE.

       That’s monstrous! O, that that were out!

       SPEED.

       ‘And more wealth than faults.’

       LAUNCE. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I’ll have her; an if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,—

       SPEED.

       What then?

       LAUNCE. Why, then will I tell thee,—that thy master stays for thee at the North-gate.

       SPEED.

       For me?

       LAUNCE. For thee! ay, who art thou? He hath stay’d for a better man than thee.

       SPEED.

       And must I go to him?

       LAUNCE. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn.

       SPEED.

       Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters!

       [Exit.]

       LAUNCE. Now will he be swing’d for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave that will thrust himself into secrets! I’ll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction.

       [Exit.]

       SCENE 2. The same. A room in the DUKE’S palace.

       [Enter DUKE and THURIO.]

       DUKE.

       Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you

       Now Valentine is banish’d from her sight.

       THURIO.

       Since his exile she hath despis’d me most,

       Forsworn my company and rail’d at me,

       That I am desperate of obtaining her.

       DUKE.

       This weak impress of love is as a figure

       Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat

       Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.

       A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,

       And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.

       [Enter PROTEUS.]

       How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman,

       According to our proclamation, gone?

       PROTEUS.

       Gone, my good lord.

       DUKE.

       My daughter takes his going grievously.

       PROTEUS.

       A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.

       DUKE.

       So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.

       Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee,—

       For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,—

       Makes me the better to confer with thee.

       PROTEUS.

       Longer than I prove loyal СКАЧАТЬ