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William Shakespeare : Complete Collection. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

William Shakespeare : Complete Collection - William Shakespeare


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the transparent bosom of the deep,

      As doth thy face through tears of mine give light.

      Thou shin’st in every tear that I do weep,

      No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;

      So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.

      Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

      And they thy glory through my grief will show.

      But do not love thyself, then thou [wilt] keep

      My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

      O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel

      No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.”

      How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper.

      Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

       Enter Longaville [with a paper]. The King steps aside.

      What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, ear.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Now in thy likeness, one more fool appear!

       Long.

      Ay me, I am forsworn!

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

      [King] [Aside.]

      In love, I hope—sweet fellowship in shame.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      One drunkard loves another of the name.

       Long.

      Am I the first that have been perjur’d so?

      Ber. [Aside.]

      I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know.

      Thou makest the triumphery, the corner-cap of society,

      The shape of love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

       Long.

      I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move.

      O sweet Maria, empress of my love,

      These numbers will I tear, and write in prose!

      Ber. [Aside.]

      O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose:

      Disfigure not his shop.

       Long.

      This same shall go.

       He reads the sonnet.

      “Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,

      ’Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,

      Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

      Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.

      A woman I forswore, but I will prove,

      Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee.

      My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

      Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace in me.

      Vows are but breath, and breath a vapor is;

      Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,

      Exhal’st this vapor-vow; in thee it is.

      If broken then, it is no fault of mine:

      If by me broke, what fool is not so wise

      To lose an oath to win a paradise?”

      Ber. [Aside.]

      This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity,

      A green goose a goddess; pure, pure [idolatry].

      God amend us, God amend! we are much out a’ th’ way.

       Enter Dumaine [with a paper].

       Long.

      By whom shall I send this?—Company? Stay.

       [Steps aside.]

      Ber. [Aside.]

      “All hid, all hid,” an old infant play.

      Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,

      And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye.

      More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!

      Dumaine transformed! four woodcocks in a dish!

       Dum.

      O most divine Kate!

      Ber. [Aside.]

      O most profane coxcomb!

       Dum.

      By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!

      Ber. [Aside.]

      By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.

       Dum.

      Her amber hairs for foul hath amber coted.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      An amber-color’d raven was well noted.

       Dum.

      As upright as the cedar.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Stoop, I say,

      Her shoulder is with child.

       Dum.

      As fair as day.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Ay, as some days, but then no sun must shine.

       Dum.

      O that I had my wish!

      Long. [Aside.]

      And I had mine!

      King [Aside.]

      And mine too, good Lord!

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?

       Dum.

      I would forget her, but a fever she

      Reigns in my blood, and will rememb’red be.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      A fever in your blood! why then incision

      Would let her out in saucers. Sweet misprision!

       Dum.

      Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.

      Ber. [Aside.]

      Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit.

      Dum. (Reads his sonnet.)

      “On a day—alack the day!—

      Love, whose month is ever May,

      Spied a blossom passing fair

      Playing in the wanton air:

      Through the velvet leaves the wind,

      All unseen, can passage find;

      That


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