Читать книгу Cymbeline (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 29

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.

Cym. Againe: and bring me word how ‘tis with her,

A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;

A madnesse, of which her life’s in danger: Heauens,

How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen,

The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene

Vpon a desperate bed, and in a time

When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,

So needfull for this present? It strikes me, past

The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,

Who needs must know of her departure, and

Dost seeme so ignorant, wee’l enforce it from thee

By a sharpe Torture

Pis. Sir, my life is yours,

I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris,

I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,

Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes,

Hold me your loyall Seruant

Lord. Good my Liege,

The day that she was missing, he was heere;

I dare be bound hee’s true, and shall performe

All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten,

There wants no diligence in seeking him,

And will no doubt be found

Cym. The time is troublesome:

Wee’l slip you for a season, but our iealousie

Do’s yet depend

Lord. So please your Maiesty,

The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,

Are landed on your Coast, with a supply

Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent

Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,

I am amaz’d with matter

Lord. Good my Liege,

Your preparation can affront no lesse

Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you’re ready:

The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,

That long to moue

Cym. I thanke you: let’s withdraw

And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not

What can from Italy annoy vs, but

We greeue at chances heere. Away.

Exeunt.

Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Master, since

I wrote him Imogen was slaine. ‘Tis strange:

Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise

To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I

What is betide to Cloten, but remaine

Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:

Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true.

These present warres shall finde I loue my Country,

Euen to the note o’th’ King, or Ile fall in them:

All other doubts, by time let them be cleer’d,

Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer’d.

Enter.