Читать книгу Cymbeline (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 11

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false,

A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,

That hath her Husband banish’d: O, that Husband,

My supreame Crowne of griefe, and those repeated

Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne,

As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable

Is the desires that’s glorious. Blessed be those

How meane so ere, that haue their honest wills,

Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.

Enter Pisanio, and Iachimo.

Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,

Comes from my Lord with Letters

Iach. Change you, Madam:

The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,

And greetes your Highnesse deerely

Imo. Thanks good Sir,

You’re kindly welcome

Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich:

If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare

She is alone th’ Arabian-Bird; and I

Haue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend:

Arme me Audacitie from head to foote,

Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,

Rather directly fly

Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whose

kindnesses I am

most infinitely

tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your

trust. Leonatus.

So farre I reade aloud.

But euen the very middle of my heart

Is warm’d by’th’ rest, and take it thankefully.

You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I

Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so

In all that I can do

Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:

What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes

To see this vaulted Arch, and the rich Crop

Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish ‘twixt

The firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn’d Stones

Vpon the number’d Beach, and can we not

Partition make with Spectacles so pretious

Twixt faire, and foule?

Imo. What makes your admiration?

Iach. It cannot be i’th’ eye: for Apes, and Monkeys

‘Twixt two such She’s, would chatter this way, and

Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i’th’ iudgment:

For Idiots in this case of fauour, would

Be wisely definit: Nor i’th’ Appetite.

Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos’d

Should make desire vomit emptinesse,

Not so allur’d to feed

Imo. What is the matter trow?

Iach. The Cloyed will:

That satiate yet vnsatisfi’d desire, that Tub

Both fill’d and running: Rauening first the Lambe,

Longs after for the Garbage

Imo. What, deere Sir,

Thus rap’s you? Are you well?

Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,

Desire my Man’s abode, where I did leaue him:

He’s strange and peeuish

Pisa. I was going Sir,

To giue him welcome.

Enter.

Imo. Continues well my Lord?

His health beseech you?

Iach. Well, Madam

Imo. Is he dispos’d to mirth? I hope he is Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,

So merry, and so gamesome: he is call’d

The Britaine Reueller

Imo. When he was heere

He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times

Not knowing why

Iach. I neuer saw him sad.

There is a Frenchman his Companion, one

An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues

A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces

The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,

(Your Lord I meane) laughes from’s free lungs: cries oh,

Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes

By History, Report, or his owne proofe

What woman is, yea what she cannot choose

But must be: will’s free houres languish:

For assured bondage?

Imo. Will my Lord say so?

Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,

It is a Recreation to be by

And heare him mocke the Frenchman:

But Heauen’s know some men are much too blame

Imo. Not he I hope Iach. Not he:

But yet Heauen’s bounty towards him, might

Be vs’d more thankfully. In himselfe ‘tis much;

In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.

Whil’st I am bound to wonder, I am bound

To pitty too

Imo. What do you pitty Sir?

Iach. Two Creatures heartyly

Imo. Am I one Sir?

You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me

Deserues your pitty?

Iach. Lamentable: what

To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace

I’th’ Dungeon by a Snuffe

Imo. I pray you Sir,

Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres

To my demands. Why do you pitty me?

Iach. That others do,

(I was about to say) enioy your-but

It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

Not mine to speake on’t

Imo. You do seeme to know

Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you

Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more

Then to be sure they do. For Certainties

Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,

The remedy then borne. Discouer to me

What both you spur and stop

Iach. Had I this cheeke

To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,

(Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule

To’th’ oath of loyalty. This obiect, which

Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,

Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn’d then)

Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres

That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands

Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as

With labour:) then by peeping in an eye

Base and illustrious as the smoakie light

That’s fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit

That all the plagues of Hell should at one time

Encounter such reuolt

Imo. My Lord, I feare

Has forgot Brittaine

Iach. And himselfe, not I

Inclin’d to this intelligence, pronounce

The Beggery of his change: but ‘tis your Graces

That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,

Charmes this report out

Imo. Let me heare no more Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart

With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady

So faire, and fasten’d to an Emperie

Would make the great’st King double, to be partner’d

With Tomboyes hyr’d, with that selfe exhibition

Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas’d ventures

That play with all Infirmities for Gold,

Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl’d stuffe

As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng’d,

Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you

Recoyle from your great Stocke

Imo. Reueng’d:

How should I be reueng’d? If this be true,

(As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares

Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,

How should I be reueng’d?

Iach. Should he make me

Liue like Diana’s Priest, betwixt cold sheets,

Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes

In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.

I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,

More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,

And will continue fast to your Affection,

Still close, as sure

Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?

Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes

Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue

So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable

Thou would’st haue told this tale for Vertue, not

For such an end thou seek’st, as base, as strange:

Thou wrong’st a Gentleman, who is as farre

From thy report, as thou from Honor: and

Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines

Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?

The King my Father shall be made acquainted

Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,

A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart

As in a Romish Stew, and to expound

His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court

He little cares for, and a Daughter, who

He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?

Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,

The credit that thy Lady hath of thee

Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse

Her assur’d credit. Blessed liue you long,

A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer

Country call’d his; and you his Mistris, onely

For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,

I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance

Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,

That which he is, new o’re: And he is one

The truest manner’d: such a holy Witch,

That he enchants Societies into him:

Halfe all men hearts are his

Imo. You make amends Iach. He sits ‘mongst men, like a defended God;

He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,

More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie

(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur’d

To try your taking of a false report, which hath

Honour’d with confirmation your great Iudgement,

In the election of a Sir, so rare,

Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,

Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you

(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon

Imo. All’s well Sir:

Take my powre i’th’ Court for yours

Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot

T’ intreat your Grace, but in a small request,

And yet of moment too, for it concernes:

Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends

Are partners in the businesse

Imo. Pray what is’t?

Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord

(The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes

To buy a Present for the Emperor:

Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done

In France: ‘tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels

Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,

And I am something curious, being strange

To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you

To take them in protection

Imo. Willingly:

And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since

My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them

In my Bedchamber

Iach. They are in a Trunke

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To send them to you, onely for this night:

I must aboord to morrow

Imo. O no, no Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word

By length’ning my returne. From Gallia,

I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise

To see your Grace

Imo. I thanke you for your paines:

But not away to morrow

Iach. O I must Madam.

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please

To greet your Lord with writing, doo’t to night,

I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall

To’th’ tender of our Present

Imo. I will write:

Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,

And truely yeelded you: you’re very welcome.

Exeunt.