PAROLLES. 3 страница

HELENA.   Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady.

DIANA.   There is a gentleman that serves the count  Reports but coarsely of her.

HELENA.   What's his name?

DIANA.   Monsieur Parolles.

HELENA.   O, I believe with him,   In argument of praise, or to the worth  Of the great count himself, she is too mean  To have her name repeated; all her deserving  Is a reserved honesty, and that  I have not heard examin'd.

DIANA.   Alas, poor lady!   'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife  Of a detesting lord.

WIDOW.   Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is  Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her  A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

HELENA.   How do you mean?   May be, the amorous count solicits her  In the unlawful purpose.

WIDOW.   He does, indeed;   And brokes with all that can in such a suit  Corrupt the tender honour of a maid;   But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard  In honestest defence.

MARIANA.   The gods forbid else!

WIDOW. So, now they come: --

[Enter, with a drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, BERTRAM, and PAROLLES. ]

That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son;   That, Escalus.

HELENA.   Which is the Frenchman?

DIANA.   He;   That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.   I would he lov'd his wife: if he were honester  He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?

HELENA.   I like him well.

DIANA.   'Tis pity he is not honest? yond's that same knave  That leads him to these places; were I his lady  I would poison that vile rascal.

HELENA.   Which is he?

DIANA.   That jack-an-apes with scarfs. Why is he melancholy?

HELENA.   Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.

PAROLLES.   Lose our drum! well.

MARIANA.   He's shrewdly vex'd at something.   Look, he has spied us.

WIDOW.   Marry, hang you!

MARIANA.   And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

[Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Officers, and Soldiers. ]

WIDOW.   The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you  Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents  There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,   Already at my house.

HELENA.   I humbly thank you:   Please it this matron and this gentle maid  To eat with us to-night; the charge and thanking  Shall be for me: and, to requite you further,   I will bestow some precepts of this virgin,   Worthy the note.

BOTH.   We'll take your offer kindly.

[Exeunt. ]

SCENE 6. Camp before Florence.

[Enter BERTRAM, and the two French Lords. ]

FIRST LORD.   Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way.

SECOND LORD.   If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.

FIRST LORD.   On my life, my lord, a bubble.

BERTRAM.   Do you think I am so far deceived in him?

FIRST LORD.   Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's  entertainment.

SECOND LORD.   It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger fail you.

BERTRAM.   I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

SECOND LORD.   None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

FIRST LORD.   I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy; we will bind and hoodwink him so that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his  examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything.

SECOND LORD.   O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.

FIRST LORD.   O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

[Enter PAROLLES. ]

BERTRAM.   How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

SECOND LORD.   A pox on 't; let it go; 'tis but a drum.

PAROLLES.   But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! --There was excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

SECOND LORD.   That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

BERTRAM.   Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

PAROLLES.   It might have been recovered.

BERTRAM.   It might, but it is not now.

PAROLLES.   It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.

BERTRAM.   Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit; if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

PAROLLES.   By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

BERTRAM.   But you must not now slumber in it.

PAROLLES.   I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and, by midnight, look to hear further from me.

BERTRAM.   May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?

PAROLLES.   I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the attempt I vow.

BERTRAM.   I know thou art valiant; and, to the possibility of thy  soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

PAROLLES.   I love not many words.

[Exit. ]

FIRST LORD.   No more than a fish loves water. --Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do't.

SECOND LORD.   You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after.

BERTRAM.   Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto?

FIRST LORD.   None in the world: but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him, --you shall see his fall to-night: for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect.

SECOND LORD.   We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.

FIRST LORD.   I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.

BERTRAM.   Your brother, he shall go along with me.

FIRST LORD.   As't please your lordship: I'll leave you.

[Exit. ]

BERTRAM.   Now will I lead you to the house, and show you  The lass I spoke of.

SECOND LORD.   But you say she's honest.

BERTRAM.   That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once,   And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,   By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,   Tokens and letters which she did re-send;   And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature;   Will you go see her?

SECOND LORD.   With all my heart, my lord.

[Exeunt. ]

SCENE 7. Florence. A room in the WIDOW'S house.

[Enter HELENA and Widow. ]

HELENA.   If you misdoubt me that I am not she,   I know not how I shall assure you further,   But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

WIDOW.   Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,   Nothing acquainted with these businesses;   And would not put my reputation now  In any staining act.

HELENA.   Nor would I wish you.   First give me trust, the count he is my husband,   And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken  Is so from word to word; and then you cannot,   By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,   Err in bestowing it.

WIDOW.   I should believe you;   For you have show'd me that which well approves  You're great in fortune.

HELENA.   Take this purse of gold,   And let me buy your friendly help thus far,   Which I will over-pay, and pay again  When I have found it. The count he woos your daughter  Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,   Resolv'd to carry her: let her in fine, consent,   As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it,   Now his important blood will naught deny  That she'll demand: a ring the county wears,   That downward hath succeeded in his house  From son to son, some four or five descents  Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds  In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire,   To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,   Howe'er repented after.

WIDOW.   Now I see  The bottom of your purpose.

HELENA.   You see it lawful then: it is no more  But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,   Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;   In fine, delivers me to fill the time,   Herself most chastely absent; after this,   To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns  To what is pass'd already.

WIDOW.   I have yielded:   Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,   That time and place, with this deceit so lawful,   May prove coherent. Every night he comes  With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd  To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us  To chide him from our eaves; for he persists,   As if his life lay on 't.

HELENA.   Why, then, to-night  Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,   Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,   And lawful meaning in a lawful act;   Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:   But let's about it.

[Exeunt. ]

ACT IV.

SCENE 1. Without the Florentine camp.

[Enter first Lord with five or six Soldiers in ambush. ]

FIRST LORD.   He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

FIRST SOLDIER.   Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

FIRST LORD.   Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

FIRST SOLDIER.   No, sir, I warrant you.

FIRST LORD.   But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again?

FIRST SOLDIER.   E'en such as you speak to me.

FIRST LORD.   He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's  entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy; not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

[Enter PAROLLES. ]

PAROLLES.   Ten o'clock. Within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it; they begin to smoke me: and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of.

PAROLLES.   What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum: being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it: they will say Came you off with so little? and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?

PAROLLES.   I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  We cannot afford you so.

PAROLLES.   Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  'Twould not do.

PAROLLES.   Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  Hardly serve.

PAROLLES.   Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel, --

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  How deep?

PAROLLES.   Thirty fathom.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

PAROLLES.   I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I recovered it.

FIRST LORD. {Aside. ]  You shall hear one anon.

PAROLLES.   A drum now of the enemy's!

[Alarum within. ]

FIRST LORD.   Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

ALL.   Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

PAROLLES.   O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.

[They seize and blindfold him. ]

FIRST SOLDIER.   Boskos thromuldo boskos.

PAROLLES.   I know you are the Muskos' regiment,   And I shall lose my life for want of language:   If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,   Italian, or French, let him speak to me;   I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

SECOND SOLDIER.   Boskos vauvado: --I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto: --Sir,   Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards  Are at thy bosom.

PAROLLES.   O!

FIRST SOLDIER.   O, pray, pray, pray! --  Manka revania dulche.

FIRST LORD.   Oscorbi dulchos volivorco.

FIRST SOLDIER.   The General is content to spare thee yet;   And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on  To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform  Something to save thy life.

PAROLLES.   O, let me live,   And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,   Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that  Which you will wonder at.

FIRST SOLDIER.   But wilt thou faithfully?

PAROLLES.   If I do not, damn me.

FIRST SOLDIER.   Acordo linta. --  Come on; thou art granted space.

[Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. ]

FIRST LORD.   Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother  We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled  Till we do hear from them.

SECOND SOLDIER.   Captain, I will.

FIRST LORD.   'A will betray us all unto ourselves; --  Inform 'em that.

SECOND SOLDIER.   So I will, sir.

FIRST LORD.   Till then I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.

[Exeunt. ]

SCENE 2. Florence. A room in the WIDOW'S house.

[Enter BERTRAM and DIANA. ]

BERTRAM.   They told me that your name was Fontibell.

DIANA.   No, my good lord, Diana.

BERTRAM.   Titled goddess;   And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,   In your fine frame hath love no quality?   If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,   You are no maiden, but a monument;   When you are dead, you should be such a one  As you are now, for you are cold and stern;   And now you should be as your mother was  When your sweet self was got.

DIANA.   She then was honest.

BERTRAM.   So should you be.

DIANA.   No:   My mother did but duty; such, my lord,   As you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM.   No more of that!   I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows:   I was compell'd to her; but I love thee  By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever  Do thee all rights of service.

DIANA.   Ay, so you serve us  Till we serve you; but when you have our roses  You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,   And mock us with our bareness.

BERTRAM.   How have I sworn?

DIANA.   'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,   But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.   What is not holy, that we swear not by,   But take the Highest to witness: then, pray you, tell me,   If I should swear by Jove's great attributes  I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths  When I did love you ill? This has no holding,   To swear by him whom I protest to love  That I will work against him: therefore your oaths  Are words and poor conditions; but unseal'd, --  At least in my opinion.

BERTRAM.   Change it, change it;   Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy;   And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts  That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,   But give thyself unto my sick desires,   Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever  My love as it begins shall so persever.

DIANA.   I see that men make hopes in such a case,   That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM.   I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power  To give it from me.

DIANA.   Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM.   It is an honour 'longing to our house,   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world  In me to lose.

DIANA.   Mine honour's such a ring:   My chastity's the jewel of our house,   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world  In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom  Brings in the champion honour on my part  Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM.   Here, take my ring:   My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,   And I'll be bid by thee.

DIANA.   When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window;   I'll order take my mother shall not hear.   Now will I charge you in the band of truth,   When you have conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,   Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:   My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them  When back again this ring shall be deliver'd;   And on your finger in the night, I'll put  Another ring; that what in time proceeds  May token to the future our past deeds.   Adieu till then; then fail not. You have won  A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

BERTRAM.   A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

[Exit. ]

DIANA.   For which live long to thank both heaven and me!   You may so in the end. --  My mother told me just how he would woo,   As if she sat in's heart; she says all men  Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me  When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him  When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,   Marry that will, I live and die a maid:   Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin  To cozen him that would unjustly win.

[Exit. ]

SCENE 3. The Florentine camp.

[Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. ]

FIRST LORD.   You have not given him his mother's letter?

SECOND LORD.   I have deliv'red it an hour since: there is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading, it he changed almost into another man.

FIRST LORD.   He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

SECOND LORD.   Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

FIRST LORD.   When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

SECOND LORD.   He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

FIRST LORD.   Now, God delay our rebellion: as we are ourselves, what things are we!

SECOND LORD.   Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorred ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows  himself.

FIRST LORD.   Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

SECOND LORD.   Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

FIRST LORD.   That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his  company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

SECOND LORD.   We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other.

FIRST LORD.   In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

SECOND LORD.   I hear there is an overture of peace.

FIRST LORD.   Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

SECOND LORD.   What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France?

FIRST LORD.   I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his  counsel.

SECOND LORD.   Let it be forbid, sir: so should I be a great deal of his act.

FIRST LORD.   Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques-le-Grand: which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath; and now she sings in heaven.

SECOND LORD.   How is this justified?

FIRST LORD.   The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true, even to the point of her death: her death itself which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place.

SECOND LORD.   Hath the count all this intelligence?

FIRST LORD.   Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

SECOND LORD.   I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

FIRST LORD.   How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses!

SECOND LORD.   And how mightily, some other times, we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.

FIRST LORD.   The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our  virtues. --

[Enter a Servant. ]

How now? where's your master?

SERVANT.   He met the duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath taken  a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king.

SECOND LORD.   They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.

FIRST LORD.   They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now.

[Enter BERTRAM. ]

How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?

BERTRAM.   I have to-night despatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have conge'd with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and between these main parcels of despatch effected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

SECOND LORD.   If the business be of any difficulty and this morning your  departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

BERTRAM.   I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it  hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? --Come, bring forth this counterfeit module has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.

SECOND LORD.   Bring him forth.

[Exeunt Soldiers. ]

Has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

BERTRAM.   No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his  spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

FIRST LORD.   I have told your lordship already; the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood: he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk; he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' the stocks: and what think you he hath confessed?

BERTRAM.   Nothing of me, has he?

SECOND LORD.   His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it.

⇐ Предыдущая 1 2 345 Следующая ⇒