第 19 节
作者:
雨来不躲 更新:2021-02-21 14:48 字数:9321
scorn; Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born。 And so I am
awake。 Poor wretches; that depend On greatness' favour; dream as I have
done; Wake and find nothing。 But; alas; I swerve; Many dream not to find;
neither deserve; And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I; That have this
golden chance; and know not why。 What fairies haunt this ground? A book?
O rare one! Be not; as is our fangled world; a garment Nobler than that it
covers。 Let thy effects So follow to be most unlike our courtiers; As good
as promise。
'Reads' 'When as a lion's whelp shall; to himself unknown; without
seeking find; and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a
stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches which; being dead many years; shall
after revive; be jointed to the old stock; and freshly grow; then shall
Posthumus end his miseries; Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and
plenty。'
'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue; and brain not;
either both or nothing; Or senseless speaking; or a speaking such As sense
cannot untie。 Be what it is; The action of my life is like it; which I'll keep;
if but for sympathy。
Re…enter GAOLER
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GAOLER。 Come; sir; are you ready for death? POSTHUMUS。 Over…
roasted rather; ready long ago。 GAOLER。 Hanging is the word; sir; if you
be ready for that; you are well cook'd。 POSTHUMUS。 So; if I prove a
good repast to the spectators; the dish pays the shot。 GAOLER。 A heavy
reckoning for you; sir。 But the comfort is; you shall be called to no more
payments; fear no more tavern bills; which are often the sadness of parting;
as the procuring of mirth。 You come in faint for want of meat; depart
reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much; and sorry
that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the
heavier for being too light; the purse too light; being drawn of heaviness。
O; of this contradiction you shall now be quit。 O; the charity of a penny
cord! It sums up thousands in a trice。 You have no true debitor and creditor
but it; of what's past; is; and to come; the discharge。 Your neck; sir; is pen;
book; and counters; so the acquittance follows。 POSTHUMUS。 I am
merrier to die than thou art to live。 GAOLER。 Indeed; sir; he that sleeps
feels not the toothache。 But a man that were to sleep your sleep; and a
hangman to help him to bed; I think he would change places with his
officer; for look you; sir; you know not which way you shall go。
POSTHUMUS。 Yes indeed do I; fellow。 GAOLER。 Your death has eyes
in's head; then; I have not seen him so pictur'd。 You must either be directed
by some that take upon them to know; or to take upon yourself that which
I am sure you do not know; or jump the after…inquiry on your own peril。
And how you shall speed in your journey's end; I think you'll never return
to tell one。 POSTHUMUS。 I tell thee; fellow; there are none want eyes to
direct them the way I am going; but such as wink and will not use them。
GAOLER。 What an infinite mock is this; that a man should have the best
use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of
winking。
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER。 Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the
King。 POSTHUMUS。 Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made
free。 GAOLER。 I'll be hang'd then。 POSTHUMUS。 Thou shalt be then
freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead。 Exeunt POSTHUMUS and
MESSENGER GAOLER。 Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget
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young gibbets; I never saw one so prone。 Yet; on my conscience; there are
verier knaves desire to live; for all he be a Roman; and there be some of
them too that die against their wills; so should I; if I were one。 I would we
were all of one mind; and one mind good。 O; there were desolation of
gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit; but my wish hath
a preferment in't。 Exit
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CYMBELINE
SCENE V。 Britain。 CYMBELINE'S tent
Enter CYMBELINE; BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS; ARVIRAGUS;
PISANIO; LORDS; OFFICERS; and attendants
CYMBELINE。 Stand by my side; you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne。 Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so
richly fought; Whose rags sham'd gilded arms; whose naked breast Stepp'd
before targes of proof; cannot be found。 He shall be happy that can find
him; if Our grace can make him so。 BELARIUS。 I never saw Such noble
fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought
But beggary and poor looks。 CYMBELINE。 No tidings of him? PISANIO。
He hath been search'd among the dead and living; But no trace of him。
CYMBELINE。 To my grief; I am The heir of his reward; 'To BELARIUS;
GUIDERIUS; and ARVIRAGUS' which I will add To you; the liver; heart;
and brain; of Britain; By whom I grant she lives。 'Tis now the time To ask
of whence you are。 Report it。 BELARIUS。 Sir; In Cambria are we born;
and gentlemen; Further to boast were neither true nor modest; Unless I add
we are honest。 CYMBELINE。 Bow your knees。 Arise my knights o' th'
battle; I create you Companions to our person; and will fit you With
dignities becoming your estates。
Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES
There's business in these faces。 Why so sadly Greet you our victory?
You look like Romans; And not o' th' court of Britain。 CORNELIUS。 Hail;
great King! To sour your happiness I must report The Queen is dead。
CYMBELINE。 Who worse than a physician Would this report become?
But I consider By med'cine life may be prolong'd; yet death Will seize the
doctor too。 How ended she? CORNELIUS。 With horror; madly dying; like
her life; Which; being cruel to the world; concluded Most cruel to herself。
What she confess'd I will report; so please you; these her women Can trip
me if I err; who with wet cheeks Were present when she finish'd。
CYMBELINE。 Prithee say。 CORNELIUS。 First; she confess'd she never
lov'd you; only Affected greatness got by you; not you; Married your
royalty; was wife to your place; Abhorr'd your person。 CYMBELINE。 She
alone knew this; And but she spoke it dying; I would not Believe her lips
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in opening it。 Proceed。 CORNELIUS。 Your daughter; whom she bore in
hand to love With such integrity; she did confess Was as a scorpion to her
sight; whose life; But that her flight prevented it; she had Ta'en off by
poison。 CYMBELINE。 O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman?
Is there more? CORNELIUS。 More; sir; and worse。 She did confess she
had For you a mortal mineral; which; being took; Should by the minute
feed on life; and ling'ring; By inches waste you。 In which time she
purpos'd; By watching; weeping; tendance; kissing; to O'ercome you with
her show; and in time; When she had fitted you with her craft; to work Her
son into th' adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange
absence; Grew shameless…desperate; open'd; in despite Of heaven and men;
her purposes; repented The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so;
Despairing; died。 CYMBELINE。 Heard you all this; her women? LADY。
We did; so please your Highness。 CYMBELINE。 Mine eyes Were not in
fault; for she was beautiful; Mine ears; that heard her flattery; nor my heart
That thought her like her seeming。 It had been vicious To have mistrusted
her; yet; O my daughter! That it was folly in me thou mayst say; And
prove it in thy feeling。 Heaven mend all!
Enter LUCIUS; IACHIMO; the SOOTHSAYER; and other Roman
prisoners; guarded; POSTHUMUS behind; and IMOGEN
Thou com'st not; Caius; now for tribute; that The Britons have raz'd
out; though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made
suit That