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William Shakespeare : Complete Collection. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

William Shakespeare : Complete Collection - William Shakespeare


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      Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

       Sil.

      What’s your will?

       Pro.

      That I may compass yours.

       Sil.

      You have your wish: my will is even this,

      That presently you hie you home to bed.

      Thou subtile, perjur’d, false, disloyal man,

      Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,

      To be seduced by thy flattery,

      That hast deceiv’d so many with thy vows?

      Return, return, and make thy love amends.

      For me (by this pale queen of night I swear),

      I am so far from granting thy request,

      That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,

      And by and by intend to chide myself

      Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

       Pro.

      I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;

      But she is dead.

      Jul. [Aside.]

      ’Twere false, if I should speak it;

      For I am sure she is not buried.

       Sil.

      Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend

      Survives; to whom (thyself art witness)

      I am betroth’d; and art thou not asham’d

      To wrong him with thy importunacy?

       Pro.

      I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

       Sil.

      And so suppose am I; for in [his] grave

      Assure thyself my love is buried.

       Pro.

      Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

       Sil.

      Go to thy lady’s grave and call hers thence,

      Or at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

      Jul. [Aside.]

      He heard not that.

       Pro.

      Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,

      Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,

      The picture that is hanging in your chamber;

      To that I’ll speak, to that I’ll sigh and weep;

      For since the substance of your perfect self

      Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;

      And to your shadow will I make true love.

      Jul. [Aside.]

      If ’twere a substance, you would sure deceive it,

      And make it but a shadow, as I am.

       Sil.

      I am very loath to be your idol, sir;

      But since your falsehood shall become you well

      To worship shadows and adore false shapes,

      Send to me in the morning, and I’ll send it;

      And so, good rest.

       Pro.

      As wretches have o’ernight

      That wait for execution in the morn.

       [Exeunt Proteus and Silvia.]

      Jul. Host, will you go?

      Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.

      Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?

      Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think ’tis almost day.

       Jul.

      Not so; but it hath been the longest night

      That e’er I watch’d, and the most heaviest.

       [Exeunt.]

       ¶

       Enter Eglamour.

       Egl.

      This is the hour that Madam Silvia

      Entreated me to call and know her mind.

      There’s some great matter she’ld employ me in.

      Madam, madam!

       [Enter] Silvia [above at her window].

       Sil.

      Who calls?

       Egl.

      Your servant and your friend;

      One that attends your ladyship’s command.

       Sil.

      Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow.

       Egl.

      As many, worthy lady, to yourself.

      According to your ladyship’s impose,

      I am thus early come to know what service

      It is your pleasure to command me in.

       Sil.

      O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman—

      Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not—

      Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish’d:

      Thou art not ignorant what dear good will

      I bear unto the banish’d Valentine,

      Nor how my father would enforce me marry

      Vain Thurio, whom my very soul [abhors].

      Thyself hast lov’d, and I have heard thee say

      No grief did ever come so near thy heart

      As when thy lady and thy true-love died,

      Upon whose grave thou vow’dst pure chastity.

      Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,

      To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;

      And for the ways are dangerous to pass,

      I do desire thy worthy company,

      Upon whose faith and honor I repose.

      Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour,

      But think upon my grief, a lady’s grief,

      And on the justice of my flying hence,

      To keep me from a most unholy match,

      Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.

      I do desire thee, even from a heart

      As full of


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