The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ These are strange Questions.

       IAILOR.

       I doe not thinke she was very well, for now

       You make me minde her, but this very day

       I ask’d her questions, and she answered me

       So farre from what she was, so childishly,

       So sillily, as if she were a foole,

       An Inocent, and I was very angry.

       But what of her, Sir?

       WOOER.

       Nothing but my pitty;

       But you must know it, and as good by me

       As by an other that lesse loves her—

       IAILOR.

       Well, Sir.

       1. FRIEND.

       Not right?

       2. FRIEND.

       Not well?

       WOOER.

       No, Sir, not well.

       Tis too true, she is mad.

       1. FRIEND.

       It cannot be.

       WOOER.

       Beleeve, you’l finde it so.

       IAILOR.

       I halfe suspected

       What you (have) told me: the gods comfort her:

       Either this was her love to Palamon,

       Or feare of my miscarrying on his scape,

       Or both.

       WOOER.

       Tis likely.

       IAILOR.

       But why all this haste, Sir?

       WOOER.

       Ile tell you quickly. As I late was angling

       In the great Lake that lies behind the Pallace,

       From the far shore, thicke set with reedes and Sedges,

       As patiently I was attending sport,

       I heard a voyce, a shrill one, and attentive

       I gave my eare, when I might well perceive

       T’was one that sung, and by the smallnesse of it

       A boy or woman. I then left my angle

       To his owne skill, came neere, but yet perceivd not

       Who made the sound, the rushes and the Reeds

       Had so encompast it: I laide me downe

       And listned to the words she sung, for then,

       Through a small glade cut by the Fisher men,

       I saw it was your Daughter.

       IAILOR.

       Pray, goe on, Sir?

       WOOER.

       She sung much, but no sence; onely I heard her

       Repeat this often: ‘Palamon is gone,

       Is gone to’th wood to gather Mulberies;

       Ile finde him out to morrow.’

       1. FRIEND.

       Pretty soule.

       WOOER.

       ‘His shackles will betray him, hee’l be taken,

       And what shall I doe then? Ile bring a beavy,

       A hundred blacke eyd Maides, that love as I doe,

       With Chaplets on their heads of Daffadillies,

       With cherry-lips, and cheekes of Damaske Roses,

       And all wee’l daunce an Antique fore the Duke,

       And beg his pardon.’ Then she talk’d of you, Sir;

       That you must loose your head to morrow morning,

       And she must gather flowers to bury you,

       And see the house made handsome: then she sung

       Nothing but ‘Willow, willow, willow,’ and betweene

       Ever was, ‘Palamon, faire Palamon,’

       And ‘Palamon was a tall yong man.’ The place

       Was knee deepe where she sat; her careles Tresses

       A wreathe of bull-rush rounded; about her stucke

       Thousand fresh water flowers of severall cullors,

       That me thought she appeard like the faire Nimph

       That feedes the lake with waters, or as Iris

       Newly dropt downe from heaven; Rings she made

       Of rushes that grew by, and to ‘em spoke

       The prettiest posies: ‘Thus our true love’s tide,’

       ‘This you may loose, not me,’ and many a one:

       And then she wept, and sung againe, and sigh’d,

       And with the same breath smil’d, and kist her hand.

       2. FRIEND.

       Alas, what pitty it is!

       WOOER.

       I made in to her.

       She saw me, and straight sought the flood; I sav’d her,

       And set her safe to land: when presently

       She slipt away, and to the Citty made,

       With such a cry and swiftnes, that, beleeve me,

       Shee left me farre behinde her; three or foure

       I saw from farre off crosse her, one of ‘em

       I knew to be your brother; where she staid,

       And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her, [Enter

       Brother, Daughter, СКАЧАТЬ