CYMBELINE. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ My Ladies honor, what became of him,

       I further know not

       Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there

       Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend.

       I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips

       Plucke a hard sentence: Prythee valiant youth

       Deny’t againe

       Gui. I haue spoke it, and I did it

       Cym. He was a Prince

       Gui. A most inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee

       Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me

       With Language that would make me spurne the Sea,

       If it could so roare to me. I cut off’s head,

       And am right glad he is not standing heere

       To tell this tale of mine

       Cym. I am sorrow for thee:

       By thine owne tongue thou art condemn’d, and must

       Endure our Law: Thou’rt dead

       Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord

       Cym. Binde the Offender,

       And take him from our presence

       Bel. Stay, Sir King.

       This man is better then the man he slew,

       As well descended as thy selfe, and hath

       More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens

       Had euer scarre for. Let his Armes alone,

       They were not borne for bondage

       Cym. Why old Soldier:

       Wilt thou vndoo the worth thou art vnpayd for

       By tasting of our wrath? How of descent

       As good as we?

       Arui. In that he spake too farre

       Cym. And thou shalt dye for’t Bel. We will dye all three,

       But I will proue that two one’s are as good

       As I haue giuen out him. My Sonnes, I must

       For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous speech,

       Though haply well for you

       Arui. Your danger’s ours

       Guid. And our good his

       Bel. Haue at it then, by leaue

       Thou hadd’st (great King) a Subiect, who

       Was call’d Belarius

       Cym. What of him? He is a banish’d Traitor

       Bel. He it is, that hath

       Assum’d this age: indeed a banish’d man,

       I know not how, a Traitor

       Cym. Take him hence,

       The whole world shall not saue him

       Bel. Not too hot;

       First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes,

       And let it be confiscate all, so soone

       As I haue receyu’d it

       Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?

       Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy: heere’s my knee:

       Ere I arise, I will preferre my Sonnes,

       Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir,

       These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,

       And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine,

       They are the yssue of your Loynes, my Liege,

       And blood of your begetting

       Cym. How? my Issue

       Bel. So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan)

       Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banish’d:

       Your pleasure was my neere offence, my punishment

       It selfe, and all my Treason that I suffer’d,

       Was all the harme I did. These gentle Princes

       (For such, and so they are) these twenty yeares

       Haue I train’d vp; those Arts they haue, as I

       Could put into them. My breeding was (Sir)

       As your Highnesse knowes: Their Nurse Euriphile

       (Whom for the Theft I wedded) stole these Children

       Vpon my Banishment: I moou’d her too’t,

       Hauing receyu’d the punishment before

       For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie,

       Excited me to Treason. Their deere losse,

       The more of you ‘twas felt, the more it shap’d

       Vnto my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir,

       Heere are your Sonnes againe, and I must loose

       Two of the sweet’st Companions in the World.

       The benediction of these couering Heauens

       Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthie

       To in-lay Heauen with Starres

       Cym. Thou weep’st, and speak’st:

       The Seruice that you three haue done, is more

       Vnlike, then this thou tell’st. I lost my Children,

       If these be they, I know not how to wish

       A payre of worthier Sonnes

       Bel. Be pleas’d awhile;

       This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,

       Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:

       This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.

       Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt

       In a most curious Mantle, wrought by th’ hand

       Of his СКАЧАТЬ