Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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My sovereign mistress clouded so without

My present vengeance taken. ’Shrew my heart,

You never spoke what did become you less

Than this, which to reiterate were sin

As deep as that, though true.

LEONTES

Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses?

Kissing with inside lip? Stopping the career

Of laughter with a sigh?—a note infallible

Of breaking honesty. Horsing foot on foot?

Skulking in corners? Wishing clocks more swift,

Hours minutes, noon midnight? And all eyes

Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,

That would unseen be wicked? Is this nothing?

Why then the world and all that’s in’t is nothing,

The covering sky is nothing, Bohemia nothing,

My wife is nothing, nor nothing have these nothings

If this be nothing.

CAMILLO

Good my lord, be cured

Of this diseased opinion, and betimes,

For ’tis most dangerous.

LEONTES

Say it be, ’tis true.

CAMILLO

No, no, my lord.

LEONTES It is. You lie, you lie.

I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee,

Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave,

Or else a hovering temporizer, that

Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,

Inclining to them both. Were my wife’s liver

Infected as her life, she would not live

The running of one glass.

CAMILLO

Who does infect her?

LEONTES

Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging

About his neck, Bohemia, who, if I

Had servants true about me, that bare eyes

To see alike mine honour as their profits,

Their own particular thrifts, they would do that

Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou

His cupbearer, whom I from meaner form

Have benched, and reared to worship, who mayst see

Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,

How I am galled, mightst bespice a cup

To give mine enemy a lasting wink,

Which draught to me were cordial.

CAMILLO

Sir, my lord,

I could do this, and that with no rash potion,

But with a ling’ring dram, that should not work

Maliciously, like poison. But I cannot

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,

So sovereignly being honourable.

I have loved thee—

LEONTES

Make that thy question, and go rot!

Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,

To appoint myself in this vexation?

Sully the purity and whiteness of my sheets—

Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted

Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps-Give

scandal to the blood o’th’ prince, my son—

Who I do think is mine, and love as mine—

Without ripe moving to’t? Would I do this?

Could man so blench?

CAMILLO

I must believe you, sir. I do, and will fetch off Bohemia for’t,

Provided that when he’s removed your highness

Will take again your queen as yours at first,

Even for your son’s sake, and thereby for sealing

The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms

Known and allied to yours.

LEONTES

Thou dost advise me

Even so as I mine own course have set down.

I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none.

CAMILLO

My lord, go then, and with a countenance as clear

As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia

And with your queen. I am his cupbearer.

If from me he have wholesome beverage,

Account me not your servant.

LEONTES

This is all. Do‘t, and thou hast the one half of my heart;

Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own.

CAMILLO

I’ll do’t, my lord.

LEONTES

I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.

Exit

CAMILLO

O miserable lady. But for me,

What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner

Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do’t

Is the obedience to a master—one

Who in rebellion with himself, will have

All that are his so too. To do this deed,

Promotion follows. If I could find example

Of thousands that had struck anointed kings

And flourished after, I’d not do’t. But since

Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment bears not one,

Let villainy itself forswear’t. I must

Forsake the court. To do’t, or no, is certain

To me a break-neck.

Enter Polixenes

Happy star reign now!

Here comes Bohemia.

POLIXENES (aside)

This is strange. Methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?—

Good day, Camillo.

CAMILLO

Hail, most royal sir.

POLIXENES

What is the news i’th’ court?

CAMILLO None rare, my lord.

POLIXENES

The King hath on him such a countenance

As he had lost some province, and a region

Loved as he loves himself. Even now I met him

With customary compliment, when he,

Wafting his eyes to th’ contrary, and falling

A lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and

So leaves me to consider what is breeding

That changes thus his manners.

CAMILLO

I dare not know, my lord.

POLIXENES

How, ‘dare not’? Do not? Do you know, and dare not?

Be intelligent to me. ‘Tis thereabouts.

For to yourself what you do know you must,

And cannot say you ‘dare not’. Good Camillo,

Your changed complexions are to me a mirror

Which shows me mine changed, too; for I must be

A party in this alteration, finding

Myself thus altered with’t.

CAMILLO

There is a sickness

Which puts some of us in distemper, but

I cannot name th’ disease, and it is caught

Of you that yet are well.

POLIXENES

How caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk.

I have looked on thousands who have sped the better

By my regard, but killed none so. Camillo,

As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto

Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns

Our gentry than our parents’ noble names,

In whose success we are gentle: I beseech you,

If you know aught which does behove my knowledge

Thereof to be informed, imprison’t not

In ignorant concealment.

CAMILLO

I may not answer.

POLIXENES

A sickness caught of me, and yet I well?

I must be answered. Dost thou hear, Camillo,

I conjure thee, by all the parts of man

Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least

Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare

What incidency thou dost guess of harm

Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near,

Which way to be prevented, if to be;

If not, how best to bear it.

CAMILLO

Sir, I will tell you, Since I am charged in honour, and by him

That I think honourable. Therefore mark my counsel,

Which must be e’en as swiftly followed as

I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me

Cry lost, and so good night!

POLIXENES

On, good Camillo.

CAMILLO

I am appointed him to murder you.

POLIXENES

By whom, Camillo?

CAMILLO

By the King.

POLIXENES

For what?

CAMILLO

He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears

As he had seen‘t, or been an instrument

To vice you to’t, that you have touched his queen

Forbiddenly.

POLIXENES

O, then my best blood turn

To an infected jelly, and my name

Be yoked with his that did betray the Best!

Turn then my freshest reputation to

A savour that may strike the dullest nostril

Where I arrive, and my approach be shunned,

Nay hated, too, worse than the great‘st infection

That e’er was heard or read.

CAMILLO

Swear his thought over By each particular star in heaven, and

By all their influences, you may as well

Forbid the sea for to obey the moon

As or by oath remove or counsel shake

The fabric of his folly, whose foundation

Is piled upon his faith, and will continue

The standing of his body.

POLIXENES

How should this grow?

CAMILLO

I know not, but I am sure ‘tis safer to

Avoid what’s grown than question how ’tis born.

If therefore you dare trust my honesty,

That lies enclosed in this trunk which you

Shall bear along impawned, away tonight!

Your followers I will whisper to the business,

And will by twos and threes at several posterns

Clear them o’th’ city. For myself, I’ll put

My fortunes to your service, which are here

By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain,

For by the honour of my parents, I

Have uttered truth; which if you seek to prove,

I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer

Than one condemned by the King’s own mouth,

Thereon his execution sworn.

POLIXENES

I do believe thee, I saw his heart in’s face. Give me thy hand.

Be pilot to me, and thy places shall

Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and

My people did expect my hence departure

Two days ago. This jealousy

Is for a precious creature. As she’s rare

Must it be great; and as his person’s mighty

Must it be violent; and as he does conceive

He is dishonoured by a man which ever

Professed to him, why, his revenges must

In that be made more bitter. Fear o‘ershades me.

Good expedition be my friend and comfort

The gracious Queen, part of his theme, but nothing

Of his ill-ta’en suspicion. Come, Camillo,

I will respect thee as a father if

Thou bear’st my life off hence. Let us avoid.

CAMILLO

It is in mine authority to command

The keys of all the posterns. Please your highness

To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.

Exeunt

2.1 Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies

HERMIONE

Take the boy to you. He so troubles me

’Tis past enduring.

FIRST LADY

Come, my gracious lord,

Shall I be your play-fellow?

MAMILLIUS No, I’ll none of you.

FIRST LADY Why, my sweet lord?

MAMILLIUS

You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if

I were a baby still. (To Second Lady) I love you better.

SECOND LADY

And why so, my lord?

MAMILLIUS

Not for because

Your brows are blacker—yet black brows they say

Become some women best, so that there be not

Too much hair there, but in a semicircle,

Or a half-moon made with a pen.

SECOND LADY

Who taught ’this?

MAMILLIUS

I learned it out of women’s faces. Pray now,

What colour are your eyebrows?

FIRST LADY

Blue, my lord.

MAMILLIUS

Nay, that’s a mock. I have seen a lady’s nose

That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

FIRST LADY

Hark ye, The Queen your mother rounds apace. We shall

Present our services to a fine new prince

One of these days, and then you’d wanton with us,

If we would have you.

SECOND LADY

She is spread of late

Into a goodly bulk, good time encounter her.

HERMIONE

What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come sir, now

I am for you again. Pray you sit by us,

And tell’s a tale.

MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall’t be?

HERMIONE As merry as you will.

MAMILLIUS

A sad tale’s best for winter. I have one

Of sprites and goblins.

HERMIONE

Let’s have that, good sir. Come on, sit down, come on, and do your best

To fright me with your sprites. You’re powerful at it.

MAMILLIUS

There was a man—

HERMIONE

Nay, come sit down, then on.

MAMILLIUS (sitting)

Dwelt by a churchyard.—I will tell it softly,

Yon crickets shall not hear it.

HERMIONE

Come on then, and give’t me in mine ear.

Enter apart Leontes, Antigonus, and Lords

LEONTES

Was he met there? His train? Camillo with him?

A LORD

Behind the tuft of pines I met them. Never

Saw I men scour so on their way. I eyed them

Even to their ships.

LEONTES

How blest am I

In my just censure, in my true opinion!

Alack, for lesser knowledge—how accursed

In being so blest! There may be in the cup

A spider steeped, and one may drink, depart,

And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge

Is not infected; but if one present

Th’abhorred ingredient to his eye, make known

How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,

With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider.

Camillo was his help in this, his pander.

There is a plot against my life, my crown.

All’s true that is mistrusted. That false villain

Whom I employed was pre-employed by him.

He has discovered my design, and I

Remain a pinched thing, yea, a very trick

For them to play at will. How came the posterns

So easily open?

A LORD

By his great authority,

Which often hath no less prevailed than so

On your command.

LEONTES I know’t too well.

(To Hermione) Give me the boy. I am glad you did not

nurse him.

Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you

Have too much blood in him.

HERMIONE

What is this? Sport?

LEONTES (to a Lord)

Bear the boy hence. He shall not come about her.

Away with him, and let her sport herself

With that she’s big with, (to Hermione) for ’tis

Polixenes

Has made thee swell thus. Exit one with Mamillius

HERMIONE

But I’d say he had not, And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying,

Howe’er you lean to th’ nayward.

LEONTES

You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well. Be but about

To say she is a goodly lady, and

The justice of your hearts will thereto add

“Tis pity she’s not honest, honourable.’

Praise her but for this her without-door form—

Which on my faith deserves high speech—and

straight

The shrug, the ‘hum’ or ‘ha’, these petty brands

That calumny doth use—O, I am out,

That mercy does, for calumny will sear

Virtue itself—these shrugs, these ‘hum’s’ and ‘ha’s’,

When you have said she’s goodly, come between

Ere you can say she’s honest. But be’t known

From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,

She’s an adultress.

HERMIONE

Should a villain say so,

The most replenished villain in the world,

He were as much more villain. You, my lord,

Do but mistake.

LEONTES

You have mistook, my lady—

Polixenes for Leontes. O, thou thing,

Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place

Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

Should a like language use to all degrees,

And mannerly distinguishment leave out

Betwixt the prince and beggar. I have said

She’s an adultress, I have said with whom.

More, she’s a traitor, and Camillo is

A federary with her, and one that knows

What she should shame to know herself,

But with her most vile principal: that she’s

A bed-swerver, even as bad as those

That vulgars give bold’st titles; ay, and privy

To this their late escape.

HERMIONE

No, by my life,

Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you

When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that

You thus have published me? Gentle my lord,

You scarce can right me throughly then to say

You did mistake.

LEONTES

No. If I mistake

In those foundations which I build upon,

The centre is not big enough to bear

A schoolboy’s top.—Away with her to prison!

He who shall speak for her is afar-off guilty,

But that he speaks.

HERMIONE

There’s some ill planet reigns.

I must be patient till the heavens look

With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex no

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

Perchance shall dry your pities. But I have

That honourable grief lodged here which burns

Worse than tears drown. Beseech you all, my lords,

With thoughts so qualified as your charities

Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so

The King’s will be performed.

LEONTES

Shall I be heard?

HERMIONE

Who is’t that goes with me? Beseech your highness

My women may be with me, for you see

My plight requires it.—Do not weep, good fools,

There is no cause. When you shall know your

mistress

Has deserved prison, then abound in tears

As I come out. This action I now go on

Is for my better grace.—Adieu, my lord.

I never wished to see you sorry; now

I trust I shall. My women, come, you have leave.

LEONTES Go, do our bidding. Hence!

Exit Hermione, guarded, with Ladies

A LORD

Beseech your highness, call the Queen again.

ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice

Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer—

Yourself, your queen, your son.

A LORD (to Leontes)

For her, my lord,

I dare my life lay down, and will do‘t, sir,

Please you t’accept it, that the Queen is spotless

I’th’ eyes of heaven and to you—I mean

In this which you accuse her.

ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

If it prove

She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where

I lodge my wife, I’ll go in couples with her;

Than when I feel and see her, no farther trust her.

For every inch of woman in the world,

Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh is false

If she be.

LEONTES

Hold your peaces.

A LORD

Good my lord—

ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

It is for you we speak, not for ourselves.

You are abused, and by some putter-on

That will be damned for’t. Would I knew the villain—

I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flawed—

I have three daughters: the eldest is eleven;

The second and the third nine and some five;

If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t. By mine honour,

I’ll geld ’em all. Fourteen they shall not see,

To bring false generations. They are co-heirs,

And I had rather glib myself than they

Should not produce fair issue.

LEONTES

Cease, no more!

You smell this business with a sense as cold

As is a dead man’s nose. But I do see’t and feel’t

As you feel doing thus; and see withal

The instruments that feel.

ANTIGONUS

If it be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty;

There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten

Of the whole dungy earth.

LEONTES

What? Lack I credit?

A LORD

I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,

Upon this ground; and more it would content me

To have her honour true than your suspicion,

Be blamed for’t how you might.

LEONTES Why, what need we

Commune with you of this, but rather follow

Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative

Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness

Imparts this; which, if you—or stupefied

Or seeming so in skill—cannot or will not

Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves

We need no more of your advice. The matter,

The loss, the gain, the ord‘ring on’t, is all

Properly ours.

ANTIGONUS

And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgement tried it

Without more overture.

LEONTES

How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age

Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight

Added to their familiarity,

Which was as gross as ever touched conjecture

That lacked sight only, naught for approbation

But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to th’ deed—doth push on this proceeding.

Yet for a greater confirmation—

For in an act of this importance ’twere

Most piteous to be wild—I have dispatched in post

To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple,

Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

Of stuffed sufficiency. Now from the oracle

They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had

Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

A LORD Well done, my lord.

LEONTES

Though I am satisfied, and need no more

Than what I know, yet shall the oracle

Give rest to th’ minds of others such as he,

Whose ignorant credulity will not

Come up to th’ truth. So have we thought it good

From our free person she should be confined,

Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence

Be left her to perform. Come, follow us.

We are to speak in public; for this business

Will raise us all.

ANTIGONUS (aside) To laughter, as I take it,

If the good truth were known. Exeunt

2.2 Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, and attendants

PAULINA

The keeper of the prison, call to him.

Let him have knowledge who I am.

Exit Gentleman

Good lady,

No court in Europe is too good for thee.

What dost thou then in prison?

Enter Jailer and Gentleman

Now, good sir,

You know me, do you not?

JAILER

For a worthy lady,

And one who much I honour.

PAULINA Pray you then,

Conduct me to the Queen.

JAILER

I may not, madam. To the contrary

I have express commandment.

PAULINA

Here’s ado,

To lock up honesty and honour from

Th’access of gentle visitors. Is’t lawful, pray you,

To see her women? Any of them? Emilia?

JAILER So please you, madam,

To put apart these your attendants,

Shall bring Emilia forth.

PAULINA I pray now call her.—

Withdraw yourselves.

Exeunt Gentleman and attendants

JAILER And, madam,

I must be present at your conference.

PAULINA Well, be’t so, prithee.

Exit Jailer

Here’s such ado, to make no stain a stain

As passes colouring.

Enter Jailer and Emilia

Dear gentlewoman,

How fares our gracious lady?

EMILIA

As well as one so great and so forlorn

May hold together. On her frights and griefs,

Which never tender lady hath borne greater,

She is, something before her time, delivered.

PAULINA

A boy?

EMILIA A daughter, and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to live. The Queen receives

Much comfort in’t; says, ‘My poor prisoner,

I am innocent as you.’

PAULINA

I dare be sworn.

These dangerous, unsafe lunes i‘th’ King, beshrew

them!

He must be told on’t, and he shall. The office

Becomes a woman best. I’ll take’t upon me.

If I prove honey-mouthed, let my tongue blister,

And never to my red-looked anger be

The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the Queen.

If she dares trust me with her little babe

I’ll show’t the King, and undertake to be

Her advocate to th’ loud‘st. We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o’th’ child.

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades when speaking fails.

EMILIA

Most worthy madam,

Your honour and your goodness is so evident

That your free undertaking cannot miss

A thriving issue. There is no lady living

So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship

To visit the next room, I’ll presently

Acquaint the Queen of your most noble offer,

Who but today hammered of this design

But durst not tempt a minister of honour

Lest she should be denied.

PAULINA

Tell her, Emilia,

I’ll use that tongue I have. If wit flow from’t

As boldness from my bosom, let’t not be doubted

I shall do good.

EMILIA

Now be you blest for it!

I’ll to the Queen. Please you come something nearer.

JAILER

Madam, if’t please the Queen to send the babe

I know not what I shall incur to pass it,

Having no warrant.

PAULINA You need not fear it, sir.

This child was prisoner to the womb, and is

By law and process of great nature thence

Freed and enfranchised, not a party to

The anger of the King, nor guilty of—

If any be—the trespass of the Queen.

JAILER I do believe it.

PAULINA

Do not you fear. Upon mine honour,

I will stand twixt you and danger.

Exeunt