CYMBELINE. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ A Pantler; not so eminent

       Imo. Prophane Fellow:

       Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more,

       But what thou art besides: thou wer’t too base,

       To be his Groome: thou wer’t dignified enough

       Euen to the point of Enuie. If ‘twere made

       Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil’d

       The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated

       For being prefer’d so well

       Clot. The South-Fog rot him Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come

       To be but nam’d of thee. His mean’st Garment

       That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer

       In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee,

       Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?

       Enter Pisanio.

       Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell

       Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently

       Clot. His Garment?

       Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,

       Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman

       Search for a Iewell, that too casually

       Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me

       If I would loose it for a Reuenew,

       Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,

       I saw’t this morning: Confident I am.

       Last night ‘twas on mine Arme; I kiss’d it,

       I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord

       That I kisse aught but he

       Pis. ‘Twill not be lost

       Imo. I hope so: go and search

       Clot. You haue abus’d me:

       His meanest Garment?

       Imo. I, I said so Sir,

       If you will make’t an Action, call witnesse to’t

       Clot. I will enforme your Father

       Imo. Your Mother too:

       She’s my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope

       But the worst of me. So I leaue you Sir,

       To’th’ worst of discontent.

       Enter.

       Clot. Ile be reueng’d:

       His mean’st Garment? Well.

       Enter.

      SCENE IV.

       Enter Posthumus, and Philario.

       Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure

       To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour

       Will remaine her’s

       Phil. What meanes do you make to him?

       Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time,

       Quake in the present winters state, and wish

       That warmer dayes would come: In these fear’d hope

       I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling

       I must die much your debtor

       Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company,

       Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King,

       Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius,

       Will do’s Commission throughly. And I think

       Hee’le grant the Tribute: send th’ Arrerages,

       Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance

       Is yet fresh in their griefe

       Post. I do beleeue

       (Statist though I am none, nor like to be)

       That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare

       The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed

       In our not-fearing-Britaine, then haue tydings

       Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen

       Are men more order’d, then when Iulius Caesar

       Smil’d at their lacke of skill, but found their courage

       Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,

       (Now wingled with their courages) will make knowne

       To their Approuers, they are People, such

       That mend vpon the world.

       Enter Iachimo.

       Phi. See Iachimo Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land;

       And Windes of all the Corners kiss’d your Sailes,

       To make your vessell nimble

       Phil. Welcome Sir

       Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made

       The speedinesse of your returne

       Iachi. Your Lady,

       Is one of the fayrest that I haue look’d vpon

       Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty

       Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts,

       And be false with them

       Iachi. Heere are Letters for you

       Post. Their tenure good I trust

       Iach. ‘Tis very like

       Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court,

       When you were there?

       Iach. He was expected then,

       But not approach’d

       Post. All is well yet,

       Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is’t not

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