William Shakespeare - Ultimate Collection: Complete Plays & Poetry in One Volume. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

       So do not you; for you are a light wench.

       ROSALINE.

       Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.

       KATHARINE.

       You weigh me not? O! that’s you care not for me.

       ROSALINE.

       Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’

       PRINCESS.

       Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.

       But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:

       Who sent it? and what is it?

       ROSALINE.

       I would you knew.

       An if my face were but as fair as yours,

       My favour were as great: be witness this.

       Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne;

       The numbers true, and, were the numbering too,

       I were the fairest goddess on the ground:

       I am compar’d to twenty thousand fairs.

       O! he hath drawn my picture in his letter.

       PRINCESS.

       Anything like?

       ROSALINE.

       Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

       PRINCESS.

       Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

       KATHARINE.

       Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

       ROSALINE.

       ‘Ware pencils! how! let me not die your debtor,

       My red dominical, my golden letter:

       O, that your face were not so full of O’s!

       KATHARINE.

       A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows!

       PRINCESS.

       But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?

       KATHARINE.

       Madam, this glove.

       PRINCESS.

       Did he not send you twain?

       KATHARINE.

       Yes, madam; and, moreover,

       Some thousand verses of a faithful lover;

       A huge translation of hypocrisy,

       Vilely compil’d, profound simplicity.

       MARIA.

       This, and these pearl, to me sent Longaville;

       The letter is too long by half a mile.

       PRINCESS.

       I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart

       The chain were longer and the letter short?

       MARIA.

       Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

       PRINCESS.

       We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

       ROSALINE.

       They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

       That same Berowne I’ll torture ere I go.

       O that I knew he were but in by th’ week!

       How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,

       And wait the season, and observe the times,

       And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rimes,

       And shape his service wholly to my hests,

       And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

       So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state

       That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

       PRINCESS.

       None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,

       As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,

       Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school

       And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.

       ROSALINE.

       The blood of youth burns not with such excess

       As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.

       MARIA.

       Folly in fools bears not so strong a note

       As fool’ry in the wise when wit doth dote;

       Since all the power thereof it doth apply

       To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

       [Enter BOYET.]

       PRINCESS.

       Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

       BOYET.

       O! I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her Grace?

       PRINCESS.

       Thy news, Boyet?

       BOYET.

       Prepare, madam, prepare!—

       Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

       Against your peace: Love doth approach disguis’d,

       Armed in arguments; you’ll be surpris’d:

       Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;

       Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

       PRINCESS.

       Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

       That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.

       BOYET.

       Under the cool shade of a sycamore

       I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

       When, lo, to interrupt my purpos’d rest,

       Toward that shade I might behold addrest

       The king and his companions: warily

       I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

       And overheard what you shall overhear;

       That, by and by, disguis’d they will be here.

       Their herald is a pretty knavish page,

       That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage:

       Action and accent did they teach him there;

       ‘Thus must thou speak’ and ‘thus thy body bear,’

       And ever and anon they made a doubt

       Presence majestical would put him out;

       ‘For’ quoth the King ‘an angel shalt thou see;

       Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’

       The boy replied ‘An angel is not evil;

       I should have fear’d her had she been a devil.’

       With that all laugh’d, and clapp’d him on the shoulder,

       Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.

       One rubb’d his elbow, thus, and fleer’d, and swore

       A better speech was never spoke before.

       Another with his finger and his thumb

       Cried ‘Via! we will do’t, come what will come.’

       The third he caper’d, and cried ‘All goes well.’

       The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell.

       With that they all did tumble on the ground,

       With such a zealous laughter, so profound,

       That in this spleen ridiculous appears,