William Shakespeare - Ultimate Collection: Complete Plays & Poetry in One Volume. William Shakespeare. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Shakespeare
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Besides, my father must be hang’d to morrow

       And that would be a blot i’th businesse.

       Are not you Palamon?

       WOOER.

       Doe not you know me?

       DAUGHTER.

       Yes, but you care not for me; I have nothing

       But this pore petticoate, and too corse Smockes.

       WOOER.

       That’s all one; I will have you.

       DAUGHTER.

       Will you surely?

       WOOER.

       Yes, by this faire hand, will I.

       DAUGHTER.

       Wee’l to bed, then.

       WOOER.

       Ev’n when you will. [Kisses her.]

       DAUGHTER.

       O Sir, you would faine be nibling.

       WOOER.

       Why doe you rub my kisse off?

       DAUGHTER.

       Tis a sweet one,

       And will perfume me finely against the wedding.

       Is not this your Cosen Arcite?

       DOCTOR.

       Yes, sweet heart,

       And I am glad my Cosen Palamon

       Has made so faire a choice.

       DAUGHTER.

       Doe you thinke hee’l have me?

       DOCTOR.

       Yes, without doubt.

       DAUGHTER.

       Doe you thinke so too?

       IAILOR.

       Yes.

       DAUGHTER.

       We shall have many children:—Lord, how y’ar growne!

       My Palamon, I hope, will grow, too, finely,

       Now he’s at liberty: Alas, poore Chicken,

       He was kept downe with hard meate and ill lodging,

       But ile kisse him up againe.

       [Emter a Messenger.]

       MESSENGER.

       What doe you here? you’l loose the noblest sight

       That ev’r was seene.

       IAILOR.

       Are they i’th Field?

       MESSENGER.

       They are.

       You beare a charge there too.

       IAILOR.

       Ile away straight.

       I must ev’n leave you here.

       DOCTOR.

       Nay, wee’l goe with you;

       I will not loose the Fight.

       IAILOR.

       How did you like her?

       DOCTOR.

       Ile warrant you, within these 3. or 4. daies

       Ile make her right againe. You must not from her,

       But still preserve her in this way.

       WOOER.

       I will.

       DOCTOR.

       Lets get her in.

       WOOER.

       Come, sweete, wee’l goe to dinner;

       And then weele play at Cardes.

       DAUGHTER.

       And shall we kisse too?

       WOOER.

       A hundred times.

       DAUGHTER.

       And twenty.

       WOOER.

       I, and twenty.

       DAUGHTER.

       And then wee’l sleepe together.

       DOCTOR.

       Take her offer.

       WOOER.

       Yes, marry, will we.

       DAUGHTER.

       But you shall not hurt me.

       WOOER.

       I will not, sweete.

       DAUGHTER.

       If you doe, Love, ile cry. [Florish. Exeunt]

       Scaena 3. (A Place near the Lists.)

       [Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Perithous: and some Attendants,

       (T. Tucke: Curtis.)]

       EMILIA.

       Ile no step further.

       PERITHOUS.

       Will you loose this sight?

       EMILIA.

       I had rather see a wren hawke at a fly

       Then this decision; ev’ry blow that falls

       Threats a brave life, each stroake laments

       The place whereon it fals, and sounds more like

       A Bell then blade: I will stay here;

       It is enough my hearing shall be punishd

       With what shall happen—gainst the which there is

       No deaffing, but to heare—not taint mine eye

       With dread sights, it may shun.

       PERITHOUS.

       Sir, my good Lord,

       Your Sister will no further.

       THESEUS.

       Oh, she must.

       She shall see deeds of honour in their kinde,

       Which sometime show well, pencild. Nature now

       Shall make and act the Story, the beleife

       Both seald with eye and eare; you must be present,

       You are the victours meede, the price, and garlond

       To crowne the Questions title.

       EMILIA.

       Pardon me;

       If I were there, I’ld winke.

       THESEUS.

       You must be there;

       This Tryall is as t’wer i’th night, and you

       The onely star to shine.

       EMILIA.

       I am extinct;

       There is but envy in that light, which showes

       The one the other: darkenes, which ever was

       The dam of horrour, who do’s stand accurst

       Of many mortall Millions, may even now,

       By casting her blacke mantle over both,

       That neither coulde finde other, get her selfe

       Some part of a good name, and many a murther

       Set off wherto she’s guilty.

       HIPPOLITA.

       You must goe.

       EMILIA.

       In faith, I will not.

       THESEUS.