The Winter’s Tale. Уильям Шекспир. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Уильям Шекспир
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Классическая проза
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007535231
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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, 15

      Than you can put us to’t.

       Polixenes

      No longer stays.

       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, 20

      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 25

      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 30

      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; 35

      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 40

      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. 45

       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 you go yet? 50

      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: 55

      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. 60

      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? 65

       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, 70

      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, 75

      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 80

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