Читать книгу The Winter's Tale - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 3

  POLIXENES. Nine changes of the wat'ry star hath been

    The shepherd's note since we have left our throne

    Without a burden. Time as long again

    Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks;

    And yet we should for perpetuity

    Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher,

    Yet standing in rich place, I multiply

    With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe

    That go before it.

  LEONTES. Stay your thanks a while,

    And pay them when you part.

  POLIXENES. Sir, that's to-morrow.

    I am question'd by my fears of what may chance

    Or breed upon our absence, that may blow

    No sneaping winds at home, to make us say

    'This is put forth too truly.' Besides, I have stay'd

    To tire your royalty.

  LEONTES. We are tougher, brother,

    Than you can put us to't.

  POLIXENES. No longer stay.

  LEONTES. One sev'night longer.

  POLIXENES. Very sooth, to-morrow.

  LEONTES. We'll part the time between's then; and in that

    I'll no gainsaying.

  POLIXENES. Press me not, beseech you, so.

    There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' th' world,

    So soon as yours could win me. So it should now,

    Were there necessity in your request, although

    'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs

    Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder

    Were in your love a whip to me; my stay

    To you a charge and trouble. To save both,

    Farewell, our brother.

  LEONTES. Tongue-tied, our Queen? Speak you.

  HERMIONE. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until

    You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,

    Charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure

    All in Bohemia's well- this satisfaction

    The by-gone day proclaim'd. Say this to him,

    He's beat from his best ward.

  LEONTES. Well said, Hermione.

  HERMIONE. To tell he longs to see his son were strong;

    But let him say so then, and let him go;

    But let him swear so, and he shall not stay;

    We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.

    [To POLIXENES] Yet of your royal presence I'll

    adventure the borrow of a week. When at Bohemia

    You take my lord, I'll give him my commission

    To let him there a month behind the gest

    Prefix'd for's parting. – Yet, good deed, Leontes,

    I love thee not a jar o' th' clock behind

    What lady she her lord. – You'll stay?

  POLIXENES. No, madam.

  HERMIONE. Nay, but you will?

  POLIXENES. I may not, verily.

  HERMIONE. Verily!

    You put me off with limber vows; but I,

    Though you would seek t' unsphere the stars with oaths,

    Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,

    You shall not go; a lady's 'verily' is

    As potent as a lord's. Will go yet?

    Force me to keep you as a prisoner,

    Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees

    When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?

    My prisoner or my guest? By your dread 'verily,'

    One of them you shall be.

  POLIXENES. Your guest, then, madam:

    To be your prisoner should import offending;

    Which is for me less easy to commit

    Than you to punish.

  HERMIONE. Not your gaoler then,

    But your kind. hostess. Come, I'll question you

    Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys.

    You were pretty lordings then!

  POLIXENES. We were, fair Queen,

    Two lads that thought there was no more behind

    But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

    And to be boy eternal.

  HERMIONE. Was not my lord

    The verier wag o' th' two?

  POLIXENES. We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' th' sun

    And bleat the one at th' other. What we chang'd

    Was innocence for innocence; we knew not

    The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd

    That any did. Had we pursu'd that life,

    And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd

    With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven

    Boldly 'Not guilty,' the imposition clear'd

    Hereditary ours.

  HERMIONE. By this we gather

    You have tripp'd since.

  POLIXENES. O my most sacred lady,

    Temptations have since then been born to 's, for

    In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;

    Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes

    Of my young playfellow.

  HERMIONE. Grace to boot!

    Of this make no conclusion, lest you say

    Your queen and I are devils. Yet, go on;

    Th' offences we have made you do we'll answer,

    If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us

    You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not

    With any but with us.

  LEONTES. Is he won yet?

  HERMIONE. He'll stay, my lord.

  LEONTES. At my request he would not.

    Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st

    To better purpose.

  HERMIONE. Never?

  LEONTES. Never but once.

  HERMIONE. What! Have I twice said well? When was't before?

    I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's

    As fat as tame things. One good deed dying tongueless

    Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.

    Our praises are our wages; you may ride's

    With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere

    With spur we heat an acre. But to th' goal:

    My last good deed was to entreat his stay;

    What was my first? It has an elder sister,

    Or I mistake you. O, would her name were Grace!

    But once before I spoke to th' purpose- When?

    Nay, let me have't; I long.

  LEONTES. Why, that was when

    Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,

    Ere I could make thee open thy white hand

    And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter

    'I am yours for ever.'

  HERMIONE. 'Tis Grace indeed.

    Why, lo you now, I have spoke to th' purpose twice:

    The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;

    Th' other for some while a friend.

                                  [Giving her hand to POLIXENES]

  LEONTES. [Aside] Too hot, too hot!

    To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

    I have tremor cordis on me; my heart dances,

    But not for joy, not joy. This entertainment

    May a free face put on; derive a liberty

    From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,

    And well become the agent. 'T may, I grant;

    But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers,

    As now they are, and making practis'd smiles

    As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as 'twere

    The mort o' th' deer. O, that is entertainment

    My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,

    Art thou my boy?

  MAMILLIUS. Ay, my good lord.

  LEONTES. I' fecks!

    Why, that's my bawcock. What! hast smutch'd thy nose?

    They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, Captain,

    We must be neat- not neat, but cleanly, Captain.

    And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,

    Are all call'd neat. – Still virginalling

    Upon his palm? – How now, you wanton calf,

    Art thou my calf?

  MAMILLIUS. Yes, if you will, my lord.

  LEONTES. Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have,

    To be full like me; yet they say we are

    Almost as like as eggs. Women say so,

    That will say anything. But were they false

    As o'er-dy'd blacks, as wind, as waters- false

    As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes

    No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true

    To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,

    Look on me with your welkin eye. Sweet villain!

    Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam? – may't be?

    Affection! thy intention stabs the centre.

    Thou dost make possible things not so held,

    Communicat'st with dreams- how can this be? -

    With what's unreal thou coactive art,

    And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent

    Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost-

    And that beyond commission; and I find it,

    And that to the infection of my brains

    And hard'ning of my brows.

  POLIXENES. What means Sicilia?

  HERMIONE. He something seems unsettled.

  POLIXENES. How, my lord!

    What cheer? How is't with you, best brother?

  HERMIONE. You look

    As if you held a brow of much distraction.

    Are you mov'd, my lord?

  LEONTES. No, in good earnest.

    How sometimes nature will betray its folly,

    Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime

    To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines

    Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil

    Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd,

    In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzl'd,

    Lest it should bite its master and so prove,

    As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.

    How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,

    This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,

    Will you take eggs for money?

  MAMILLIUS. No, my lord, I'll fight.

  LEONTES. You will? Why, happy man be's dole! My brother,

    Are you so fond of your young prince as we

    Do seem to be of ours?

  POLIXENES. If at home, sir,

    He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter;

    Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;

    My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all.

    He makes a July's day short as December,

    And with his varying childness cures in me

    Thoughts that would thick my blood.

  LEONTES. So stands this squire

    Offic'd with me. We two will walk, my lord,

    And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,

    How thou lov'st us show in our brother's welcome;

    Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap;

    Next to thyself and my young rover, he's

    Apparent to my heart.

  HERMIONE. If you would seek us,

    We are yours i' th' garden. Shall's attend you there?

  LEONTES. To your own bents dispose you; you'll be found,

    Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling now,

    Though you perceive me not how I give line.

    Go to, go to!

    How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!

    And arms her with the boldness of a wife

    To her allowing husband!

    Gone already!

    Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one!

    Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I

    Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue

    Will hiss me to my grave. Contempt and clamour

    Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been,

    Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;

    And many a man there is, even at this present,

    Now while I speak this, holds his wife by th' arm

    That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence,

    And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by

    Sir Smile, his neighbour. Nay, there's comfort in't,

    Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd,

    As mine, against their will. Should all despair

    That hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind

    Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none;

    It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

    Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis pow'rfull, think it,

    From east, west, north, and south. Be it concluded,

    No barricado for a belly. Know't,

    It will let in and out the enemy

    With bag and baggage. Many thousand on's

    Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy!

  MAMILLIUS. I am like you, they say.

  LEONTES. Why, that's some comfort.

    What! Camillo there?

  CAMILLO. Ay, my good lord.

  LEONTES. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.

                                                  Exit MAMILLIUS

    Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

  CAMILLO. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;

    When you cast out, it still came home.

  LEONTES. Didst note it?

  CAMILLO. He would not stay at your petitions; made

    His business more material.

  LEONTES. Didst perceive it?

    [Aside] They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding,

    'Sicilia is a so-forth.' 'Tis far gone

    When I shall gust it last. – How came't, Camillo,

    That he did stay?

  CAMILLO. At the good Queen's entreaty.

  LEONTES. 'At the Queen's' be't. 'Good' should be pertinent;

    But so it is, it is not. Was this taken

    By any understanding pate but thine?

    For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in

    More than the common blocks. Not noted, is't,

    But of the finer natures, by some severals

    Of head-piece extraordinary? Lower messes

    Perchance are to this business purblind? Say.

  CAMILLO. Business, my lord? I think most understand

    Bohemia stays here longer.

  LEONTES. Ha?

  CAMILLO. Stays here longer.

  LEONTES. Ay, but why?

  CAMILLO. To satisfy your Highness, and the entreaties

    Of our most gracious mistress.

  LEONTES. Satisfy

    Th' entreaties of your mistress! Satisfy!

    Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,

    With all the nearest things to my heart, as well

    My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou

    Hast cleans'd my bosom- I from thee departed

    Thy penitent reform'd; but we have been

    Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

    In that which seems so.

  CAMILLO. Be it forbid, my lord!

  LEONTES. To bide upon't: thou art not honest; or,

    If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward,

    Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining

    From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted

    A servant grafted in my serious trust,

    And therein negligent; or else a fool

    That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,

    And tak'st it all for jest.

  CAMILLO. My gracious lord,

    I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful:

    In every one of these no man is free

    But that his negligence, his folly, fear,

    Among the infinite doings of the world,

    Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,

    If ever I were wilfull-negligent,

    It was my folly; if industriously

    I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,

    Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful

    To do a thing where I the issue doubted,

    Whereof the execution did cry out

    Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear

    Which oft infects the wisest. These, my lord,

    Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty

    Is never free of. But, beseech your Grace,

    Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass

    By its own visage; if I then deny it,

    'Tis none of mine.

  LEONTES. Ha' not you seen, Camillo-

    But that's past doubt; you have, or your eye-glass

    Is thicker than a cuckold's horn- or heard-

    For to a vision so apparent rumour

    Cannot be mute- or thought- for cogitation

    Resides not in that man that does not think-

    My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess-

    Or else be impudently negative,

    To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought- then say

    My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name

    As rank as any flax-wench that puts to

    Before her troth-plight. Say't and justify't.

  CAMILLO. I would not be a stander-by to hear

    My sovereign mistress clouded so, without

    My present vengeance taken. Shrew my heart!

    You never spoke what did become you less

    Than this; which to reiterate were sin

    As deep as that, though true.

  LEONTES. Is whispering nothing?

    Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses?

    Kissing with inside lip? Stopping the career

    Of laughter with a sigh? – a note infallible

    Of breaking honesty. Horsing foot on foot?

    Skulking in corners? Wishing clocks more swift;

    Hours, minutes; noon, midnight? And all eyes

    Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,

    That would unseen be wicked- is this nothing?

    Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;

    The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;

    My is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,

    If this be nothing.

  CAMILLO. Good my lord, be cur'd

    Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;

    For 'tis most dangerous.

  LEONTES. Say it be, 'tis true.

  CAMILLO. No, no, my lord.

  LEONTES. It is; you lie, you lie.

    I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee;

    Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave,

    Or else a hovering temporizer that

    Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,

    Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver

    Infected as her life, she would not live

    The running of one glass.

  CAMILLO. Who does her?

  LEONTES. Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging

    About his neck, Bohemia; who- if I

    Had servants true about me that bare eyes

    To see alike mine honour as their profits,

    Their own particular thrifts, they would do that

    Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou,

    His cupbearer- whom I from meaner form

    Have bench'd and rear'd to worship; who mayst see,

    Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,

    How I am gall'd- mightst bespice a cup

    To give mine enemy a lasting wink;

    Which draught to me were cordial.

  CAMILLO. Sir, my lord,

    I could do this; and that with no rash potion,

    But with a ling'ring dram that should not work

    Maliciously like poison. But I cannot

    Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,

    So sovereignly being honourable.

    I have lov'd thee-

  LEONTES. Make that thy question, and go rot!

    Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,

    To appoint myself in this vexation; sully

    The purity and whiteness of my sheets-

    Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted

    Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps;

    Give scandal to the blood o' th' Prince, my son-

    Who I do think is mine, and love as mine-

    Without ripe moving to 't? Would I do this?

    Could man so blench?

  CAMILLO. I must believe you, sir.

    I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't;

    Provided that, when he's remov'd, your Highness

    Will take again your queen as yours at first,

    Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing

    The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms

    Known and allied to yours.

  LEONTES. Thou dost advise me

    Even so as I mine own course have set down.

    I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.

  CAMILLO. My lord,

    Go then; and with a countenance as clear

    As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia

    And with your queen. I am his cupbearer;

    If from me he have wholesome beverage,

    Account me not your servant.

  LEONTES. This is all:

    Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart;

    Do't not, thou split'st thine own.

  CAMILLO. I'll do't, my lord.

  LEONTES. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. Exit

  CAMILLO. O miserable lady! But, for me,

    What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner

    Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't

    Is the obedience to a master; one

    Who, in rebellion with himself, will have

    All that are his so too. To do this deed,

    Promotion follows. If I could find example

    Of thousands that had struck anointed kings

    And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since

    Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one,

    Let villainy itself forswear't. I must

    Forsake the court. To do't, or no, is certain

    To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now!

    Here comes Bohemia.

  POLIXENES. This is strange. Methinks

    My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?

    Good day, Camillo.

  CAMILLO. Hail, most royal sir!

  POLIXENES. What is the news i' th' court?

  CAMILLO. None rare, my lord.

  POLIXENES. The King hath on him such a countenance

    As he had lost some province, and a region

    Lov'd as he loves himself; even now I met him

    With customary compliment, when he,

    Wafting his eyes to th' contrary and falling

    A lip of much contempt, speeds from me;

    So leaves me to consider what is breeding

    That changes thus his manners.

  CAMILLO. I dare not know, my lord.

  POLIXENES. How, dare not! Do not. Do you know, and dare not

    Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts;

    For, to yourself, what you do know, you must,

    And cannot say you dare not. Good Camillo,

    Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror

    Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be

    A party in this alteration, finding

    Myself thus alter'd with't.

  CAMILLO. There is a sickness

    Which puts some of us in distemper; but

    I cannot name the disease; and it is caught

    Of you that yet are well.

  POLIXENES. How! caught of me?

    Make me not sighted like the basilisk;

    I have look'd on thousands who have sped the better

    By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo-

    As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto

    Clerk-like experienc'd, which no less adorns

    Our gentry than our parents' noble names,

    In whose success we are gentle- I beseech you,

    If you know aught which does behove my knowledge

    Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not

    In ignorant concealment.

  CAMILLO. I may not answer.

  POLIXENES. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well?

    I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo?

    I conjure thee, by all the parts of man

    Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least

    Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare

    What incidency thou dost guess of harm

    Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;

    Which way to be prevented, if to be;

    If not, how best to bear it.

  CAMILLO. Sir, I will tell you;

    Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him

    That I think honourable. Therefore mark my counsel,

    Which must be ev'n as swiftly followed as

    I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me

    Cry lost, and so goodnight.

  POLIXENES. On, good Camillo.

  CAMILLO. I am appointed him to murder you.

  POLIXENES. By whom, Camillo?

  CAMILLO. By the King.

  POLIXENES. For what?

  CAMILLO. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,

    As he had seen 't or been an instrument

    To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen

    Forbiddenly.

  POLIXENES. O, then my best blood turn

    To an infected jelly, and my name

    Be yok'd with his that did betray the Best!

    Turn then my freshest reputation to

    A savour that may strike the dullest nostril

    Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd,

    Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection

    That e'er was heard or read!

  CAMILLO. Swear his thought over

    By each particular star in heaven and

    By all their influences, you may as well

    Forbid the sea for to obey the moon

    As or by oath remove or counsel shake

    The fabric of his folly, whose foundation

    Is pil'd upon his faith and will continue

    The standing of his body.

  POLIXENES. How should this grow?

  CAMILLO. I know not; but I am sure 'tis safer to

    Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born.

    If therefore you dare trust my honesty,

    That lies enclosed in this trunk which you

    Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night.

    Your followers I will whisper to the business;

    And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns,

    Clear them o' th' city. For myself, I'll put

    My fortunes to your service, which are here

    By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain,

    For, by the honour of my parents, I

    Have utt'red truth; which if you seek to prove,

    I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer

    Than one condemn'd by the King's own mouth, thereon

    His execution sworn.

  POLIXENES. I do believe thee:

    I saw his heart in's face. Give me thy hand;

    Be pilot to me, and thy places shall

    Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and

    My people did expect my hence departure

    Two days ago. This jealousy

    Is for a precious creature; as she's rare,

    Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,

    Must it be violent; and as he does conceive

    He is dishonour'd by a man which ever

    Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must

    In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me.

    Good expedition be my friend, and comfort

    The gracious Queen, part of this theme, but nothing

    Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;

    I will respect thee as a father, if

    Thou bear'st my life off hence. Let us avoid.

  CAMILLO. It is in mine authority to command

    The keys of all the posterns. Please your Highness

    To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. Exeunt