CYMBELINE. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ For Imogens deere life, take mine, and though

       ‘Tis not so deere, yet ‘tis a life; you coyn’d it,

       ‘Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery stampe:

       Though light, take Peeces for the figures sake,

       (You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres,

       If you will take this Audit, take this life,

       And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,

       Ile speake to thee in silence.

       Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus, Father to Posthumus, an old man, attyred like a warriour, leading in his hand an ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke before them. Then after other Musicke, followes the two young Leonati (Brothers to Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the warrs. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping.

       Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies: With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries Rates, and Reuenges. Hath my poore Boy done ought but well, whose face I neuer saw: I dy’de whil’st in the Wombe he staide, attending Natures Law. Whose Father then (as men report, thou Orphanes Father art) Thou should’st haue bin, and sheelded him, from this earth-vexing smart

       Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde, but tooke me in my Throwes, That from me was Posthumus ript, came crying ‘mong’st his Foes. A thing of pitty

       Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie, moulded the stuffe so faire: That he deseru’d the praise o’th’ World, as great Sicilius heyre

       1.Bro. When once he was mature for man, in Britaine where was hee That could stand vp his paralell? Or fruitfull obiect bee? In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme his dignitie

       Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt to be exil’d, and throwne From Leonati Seate, and cast from her, his deerest one: Sweete Imogen? Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy, To taint his Nobler hart & braine, with needlesse ielousy, And to become the geeke and scorne o’th’ others vilany? 2 Bro. For this, from stiller Seats we came, our Parents, and vs twaine, That striking in our Countries cause, fell brauely, and were slaine, Our Fealty, & Tenantius right, with Honor to maintaine

       1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath to Cymbeline perform’d: Then Iupiter, y King of Gods, why hast y thus adiourn’d The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolors turn’d?

       Sicil. Thy Christall window ope; looke, looke out, no longer exercise Vpon a valiant Race, thy harsh, and potent iniuries:

       Moth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good, take off his miseries

       Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Mansion, helpe, or we poore Ghosts will cry To’th’ shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity

       Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale, and from thy iustice flye.

       Iupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting vppon an Eagle: hee throwes a Thunderbolt. The Ghostes fall on their knees.

       Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low

       Offend our hearing: hush. How dare you Ghostes

       Accuse the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know)

       Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coasts.

       Poore shadowes of Elizium, hence, and rest

       Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres.

       Be not with mortall accidents opprest,

       No care of yours it is, you know ‘tis ours.

       Whom best I loue, I crosse; to make my guift

       The more delay’d, delighted. Be content,

       Your low-laide Sonne, our Godhead will vplift:

       His Comforts thriue, his Trials well are spent:

       Our Iouiall Starre reign’d at his Birth, and in

       Our Temple was he married: Rise, and fade,

       He shall be Lord of Lady Imogen,

       And happier much by his Affliction made

       This Tablet lay vpon his Brest, wherein

       Our pleasure, his full Fortune, doth confine,

       And so away: no farther with your dinne

       Expresse Impatience, least you stirre vp mine:

       Mount Eagle, to my Palace Christalline.

       Ascends Sicil. He came in Thunder, his Celestiall breath

       Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle

       Stoop’d, as to foote vs: his Ascension is

       More sweet then our blest Fields: his Royall Bird

       Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his Beake,

       As when his God is pleas’d

       All. Thankes Iupiter

       Sic. The Marble Pauement clozes, he is enter’d

       His radiant Roofe: Away, and to be blest

       Let vs with care performe his great behest.

       Vanish

       Post. Sleepe, thou hast bin a Grandsire, and begot

       A Father to me: and thou hast created

       A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorne)

       Gone, they went hence so soone as they were borne:

       And so I am awake. Poore Wretches, that depend

       On Greatnesse, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done,

       Wake, and finde nothing. But (alas) I swerue:

       Many Dreame not to finde, neither deserue,

       And yet are steep’d in Fauours; so am I

       That haue this Golden chance, and know not why:

       What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one,

       Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment

       Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects

       So follow, to be most vnlike our Courtiers,

       As good, as promise.

       Reades.

       When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without seeking finde, and bee embrac’d by a peece of tender Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches, which being dead many yeares, shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plentie. ‘Tis still СКАЧАТЬ