The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Уильям Шекспир

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       Not farre, Sir,

       Are there such Games to day?

       1. COUNTREYMAN

       Yes, marry, are there:

       And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe

       Will be in person there.

       ARCITE.

       What pastimes are they?

       2. COUNTREYMAN

       Wrastling, and Running.—Tis a pretty Fellow.

       3. COUNTREYMAN

       Thou wilt not goe along?

       ARCITE.

       Not yet, Sir.

       4. COUNTREYMAN

       Well, Sir,

       Take your owne time: come, Boyes.

       1. COUNTREYMAN

       My minde misgives me;

       This fellow has a veng’ance tricke o’th hip:

       Marke how his Bodi’s made for’t

       2. COUNTREYMAN

       Ile be hangd, though,

       If he dare venture; hang him, plumb porredge,

       He wrastle? he rost eggs! Come, lets be gon, Lads. [Exeunt.]

       ARCITE.

       This is an offerd oportunity

       I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled,

       The best men calld it excellent, and run—

       Swifter the winde upon a feild of Corne

       (Curling the wealthy eares) never flew: Ile venture,

       And in some poore disguize be there; who knowes

       Whether my browes may not be girt with garlands?

       And happines preferre me to a place,

       Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [Exit Arcite.]

      Scaena 4. (Athens. A room in the prison.)

       [Enter Iailors Daughter alone.]

       DAUGHTER.

       Why should I love this Gentleman? Tis odds

       He never will affect me; I am base,

       My Father the meane Keeper of his Prison,

       And he a prince: To marry him is hopelesse;

       To be his whore is witles. Out upon’t,

       What pushes are we wenches driven to,

       When fifteene once has found us! First, I saw him;

       I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;

       He has as much to please a woman in him,

       (If he please to bestow it so) as ever

       These eyes yet lookt on. Next, I pittied him,

       And so would any young wench, o’ my Conscience,

       That ever dream’d, or vow’d her Maydenhead

       To a yong hansom Man; Then I lov’d him,

       Extreamely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him;

       And yet he had a Cosen, faire as he too.

       But in my heart was Palamon, and there,

       Lord, what a coyle he keepes! To heare him

       Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!

       And yet his Songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken

       Was never Gentleman. When I come in

       To bring him water in a morning, first

       He bowes his noble body, then salutes me, thus:

       ‘Faire, gentle Mayde, good morrow; may thy goodnes

       Get thee a happy husband.’ Once he kist me.

       I lov’d my lips the better ten daies after.

       Would he would doe so ev’ry day! He greives much,

       And me as much to see his misery.

       What should I doe, to make him know I love him?

       For I would faine enjoy him. Say I ventur’d

       To set him free? what saies the law then? Thus much

       For Law, or kindred! I will doe it,

       And this night, or to morrow, he shall love me. [Exit.]

      Scaena 5. (An open place in Athens.) [Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a

      Garland, &c.]

       [This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within.]

       THESEUS.

       You have done worthily; I have not seene,

       Since Hercules, a man of tougher synewes;

       What ere you are, you run the best, and wrastle,

       That these times can allow.

       ARCITE.

       I am proud to please you.

       THESEUS.

       What Countrie bred you?

       ARCITE.

       This; but far off, Prince.

       THESEUS.

       Are you a Gentleman?

       ARCITE.

       My father said so;

       And to those gentle uses gave me life.

       THESEUS.

       Are you his heire?

       ARCITE.

       His yongest, Sir.

       THESEUS.

       Your Father

       Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?

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