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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  CYMBELINE
  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