Название: CYMBELINE
Автор: Уильям Шекспир
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027234097
isbn:
What Companies are neere: pray you away,
Let me alone with him
Clot. Soft, what are you
That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?
I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?
Gui. A thing
More slauish did I ne’re, then answering
A Slaue without a knocke
Clot. Thou art a Robber,
A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe
Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I
An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge:
Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not
My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
Why I should yeeld to thee?
Clot. Thou Villaine base,
Know’st me not by my Cloathes?
Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall:
Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes,
Which (as it seemes) make thee
Clo. Thou precious Varlet,
My Taylor made them not
Gui. Hence then, and thanke
The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole,
I am loath to beate thee
Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe,
Heare but my name, and tremble
Gui. What’s thy name?
Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine
Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
‘Twould moue me sooner
Clot. To thy further feare,
Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shalt know
I am Sonne to’th’ Queene
Gui. I am sorry for’t: not seeming
So worthy as thy Birth
Clot. Art not afeard?
Gui. Those that I reuerence, those I feare: the Wise:
At Fooles I laugh: not feare them
Clot. Dye the death:
When I haue slaine thee with my proper hand,
Ile follow those that euen now fled hence:
And on the Gates of Luds-Towne set your heads:
Yeeld Rusticke Mountaineer.
Fight and Exeunt.
Enter Belarius and Aruiragus.
Bel. No Companie’s abroad?
Arui. None in the world: you did mistake him sure
Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
But Time hath nothing blurr’d those lines of Fauour
Which then he wore: the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking were as his: I am absolute
‘Twas very Cloten
Arui. In this place we left them;
I wish my Brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell
Bel. Being scarse made vp,
I meane to man; he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors: For defect of iudgement
Is oft the cause of Feare.
Enter Guiderius.
But see thy Brother
Gui. This Cloten was a Foole, an empty purse,
There was no money in’t: Not Hercules
Could haue knock’d out his Braines, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the Foole had borne
My head, as I do his
Bel. What hast thou done?
Gui. I am perfect what: cut off one Clotens head,
Sonne to the Queene (after his owne report)
Who call’d me Traitor, Mountaineer, and swore
With his owne single hand heel’d take vs in,
Displace our heads, where (thanks the Gods) they grow
And set them on Luds-Towne
Bel. We are all vndone
Gui. Why, worthy Father, what haue we to loose,
But that he swore to take our Liues? the Law
Protects not vs, then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant peece of flesh threat vs?
Play Iudge, and Executioner, all himselfe?
For we do feare the Law. What company
Discouer you abroad?
Bel. No single soule
Can we set eye on: but in all safe reason
He must haue some Attendants. Though his Honor
Was nothing but mutation, I, and that
From one bad thing to worse: Not Frenzie,
Not absolute madnesse could so farre haue rau’d
To bring him heere alone: although perhaps
It may be heard at Court, that such as wee
Caue heere, hunt heere, are Outlawes, and in time
May make some stronger head, the which he hearing,
(As it is like him) might breake out, and sweare
Heel’d fetch vs in, yet is’t not probable