Читать книгу Cymbeline (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 23

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one,

I haue tyr’d my selfe: and for two nights together

Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke,

But that my resolution helpes me: Milford,

When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio shew’d thee,

Thou was’t within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke

Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane,

Where they should be releeu’d. Two Beggers told me,

I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye

That haue Afflictions on them, knowing ‘tis

A punishment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder,

When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse

Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood

Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord,

Thou art one o’th’ false Ones: Now I thinke on thee,

My hunger’s gone; but euen before, I was

At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this?

Heere is a path too’t: ‘tis some sauage hold:

I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine

Ere cleane it o’re-throw Nature, makes it valiant.

Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer

Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who’s heere?

If any thing that’s ciuill, speake: if sauage,

Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.

Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy

But feare the Sword like me, hee’l scarsely looke on’t.

Such a Foe, good Heauens.

Enter.