The Complete Apocryphal Works of William Shakespeare - All 17 Rare Plays in One Edition. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

       My very entrails burn for want of drink,

       My bowels cry, Humber, give us some meat.

       But wretched Humber can give you no meat;

       These foul accursed groves afford no meat,

       This fruitless soil, this ground, brings forth no meat.

       The gods, hard hearted gods, yield me no meat.

       Then how can Humber give you any meat?

       [Enter Strumbo with a pitchfork, and a scotch-cap, saying:]

       STRUMBO. How do you, masters, how do you? how have you scaped hanging this long time? Yfaith, I have scaped many a scouring this year; but I thank God I have past them all with a good couragio, couragio, & my wife & I are in great love and charity now, I thank my manhood & my strength. For I will tell you, masters: upon a certain day at night I came home, to say the very truth, with my stomach full of wine, and ran up into the chamber where my wife soberly sat rocking my little baby, leaning her back against the bed, singing lullaby. Now, when she saw me come with my nose foremost, thinking that I had been drunk, as I was indeed, she snatched up a faggot stick in her hand, and came furiously marching towards me with a big face, as though she would have eaten me at a bit; thundering out these words unto me: Thou drunken knave, where hast thou been so long? I shall teach thee how to beknight me an other time; and so she began to play knaves’ trumps. Now, although I trembled, fearing she would set her ten commandments in my face, I ran within her, and taking her lustily by the middle, I carried her valiantly to the bed, and flinging her upon it, flung my self upon her; and there I delighted her so with the sport I made, that ever after she would call me sweet husband, and so banished brawling for ever. And to see the good will of the wench! she bought with her portion a yard of land, and by that I am now become one of the richest men in our parish. Well, masters, what’s a clock? is it now breakfast time; you shall see what meat I have here for my breakfast.

       [Let him sit down and pull out his vittails.]

       HUMBER.

       Was ever land so fruitless as this land?

       Was ever grove so graceless as this grove?

       Was ever soil so barren as this soil?

       Oh no: the land where hungry Fames dwelt

       May no wise equalize this cursed land;

       No, even the climate of the torrid zone

       Brings forth more fruit than this accursed grove.

       Ne’er came sweet Ceres, ne’er came Venus here;

       Triptolemus, the god of husbandmen,

       Ne’er sowed his seed in this foul wilderness.

       The hunger-bitten dogs of Acheron,

       Chased from the ninefold Puriflegiton,

       Have set their footsteps in this damned ground.

       The iron hearted Furies, armed with snakes,

       Scattered huge Hydras over all the plains,

       Which have consumed the grass, the herbs, the trees;

       Which have drunk up the flowing water springs.

       [Strumbo, hearing his voice, shall start up and put meat in his pocket, seeking to hide himself.]

       Thou great commander of the starry sky,

       That guidest the life of every mortal wight,

       From the inclosures of the fleeting clouds

       Fain down some food, or else I faint and die:

       Pour down some drink, or else I faint and die.

       O Jupiter, hast thou sent Mercury

       In clownish shape to minister some food?

       Some meat! some meat! some meat!

       STRUMBO.

       O, alas, sir, ye are deceived. I am not Mercury;

       I am Strumbo.

       HUMBER.

       Give me some meat, villain; give me some meat,

       Or gainst this rock I’ll dash thy cursed brains,

       And rent thy bowels with my bloody hands.

       Give me some meat, villain; give me some meat!

       STRUMBO. By the faith of my body, good fellow, I had rather give an whole oxe than that thou shouldst serve me in that sort. Dash out my brains? O horrible! terrible! I think I have a quarry of stones in my pocket.

       [Let him make as though he would give him some,

       and as he putteth out his hand, enter the ghost of

       Albanact, and strike him on the hand: and so

       Strumbo runs out, Humber following him. Exit.]

       ALBANACT’S GHOST.

       Lo, here the gift of fell ambition,

       Of usurpation and of treachery!

       Lo, here the harms that wait upon all those

       That do intrude themselves in other’s lands,

       Which are not under their dominion.

       [Exit.]