Читать книгу Beaumont & Fletchers Works (2 of 10) – the Humourous Lieutenant - Beaumont Francis - Страница 3
ACTUS PRIMUS. SCENA PRIMA
SCENA II
ОглавлениеEnter Demetrius, and Celia.
Cel. Must ye needs go?
Dem. Or stay with all dishonour.
Cel. Are there not men enough to fight?
Dem. Fie Celia. This ill becomes the noble love you bear me; Would you have your love a coward?
Cel. No; believe Sir, I would have him fight, but not so far off from me.
Dem. Wouldst have it thus? or thus?
Cel. If that be fighting—
Dem. Ye wanton fool: when I come home again I'le fight with thee, at thine own weapon Celia, And conquer thee too.
Cel. That you have done already, You need no other Arms to me, but these Sir; But will you fight your self Sir?
Dem. Thus deep in bloud wench, And through the thickest ranks of Pikes.
Cel. Spur bravely Your firie Courser, beat the troops before ye, And cramb the mouth of death with executions.
Dem. I would do more than these: But prethee tell me, Tell me my fair, where got'st thou this male Spirit? I wonder at thy mind.
Cel. Were I a man then, You would wonder more.
Dem. Sure thou wouldst prove a Souldier, And some great Leader.
Cel. Sure I should do somewhat; And the first thing I did, I should grow envious, Extreamly envious of your youth, and honour.
Dem. And fight against me?
Cel. Ten to one, I should do it.
Dem. Thou wouldst not hurt me?
Cel. In this mind I am in I think I should be hardly brought to strike ye, Unless 'twere thus; but in my mans mind—
Dem. What?
Cel. I should be friends with you too, Now I think better.
Dem. Ye are a tall Souldier:
Here, take these, and these;
This gold to furnish ye, and keep this bracelet;
Why do you weep now?
You a masculine Spirit?
Cel. No, I confess, I am a fool, a woman: And ever when I part with you—
Dem. You shall not, These tears are like prodigious signs, my sweet one, I shall come back, loaden with fame, to honour thee.
Cel. I hope you shall:
But then my dear Demetrius,
When you stand Conquerour, and at your mercy
All people bow, and all things wait your sentence;
Say then your eye (surveying all your conquest)
Finds out a beautie, even in sorrow excellent,
A constant face, that in the midst of ruine
With a forc'd smile, both scorns at fate, and fortune:
Say you find such a one, so nobly fortified,
And in her figure all the sweets of nature?
Dem. Prethee, No more of this, I cannot find her.
Cel. That shews as far beyond my wither'd beauty; And will run mad to love ye too.
Dem. Do you fear me, And do you think, besides this face, this beauty, This heart, where all my hopes are lock'd—
Cel. I dare not: No sure, I think ye honest; wondrous honest. Pray do not frown, I'le swear ye are.
Dem. Ye may choose.
Cel. But how long will ye be away?
Dem. I know not.
Cel. I know you are angry now: pray look upon me: I'le ask no more such questions.
Dem. The Drums beat, I can no longer stay.
Cel. They do but call yet: How fain you would leave my Company?
Dem. I wou'd not, Unless a greater power than love commanded, Commands my life, mine honour.
Cel. But a little.
Dem. Prethee farewel, and be not doubtfull of me.
Cel. I would not have ye hurt: and ye are so ventrous—
But good sweet Prince preserve your self, fight nobly,
But do not thrust this body, 'tis not yours now,
'Tis mine, 'tis only mine: do not seek wounds, Sir,
For every drop of blood you bleed—
Dem. I will Celia, I will be carefull.
Cel. My heart, that loves ye dearly.
Dem. Prethee no more, we must part: [Drums a March. Hark, they march now.
Cel. Pox on these bawling Drums: I am sure you'l kiss me, But one kiss? what a parting's this?
Dem. Here take me,
And do what thou wilt with me, smother me;
But still remember, if your fooling with me,
Make me forget the trust—
Cel. I have done: farewel Sir, Never look back, you shall not stay, not a minute.
Dem. I must have one farewel more.
Cel. No, the Drums beat; I dare not slack your honour; not a hand more, Only this look; the gods preserve, and save ye.
