Love's Labour's Lost (version 2) - Sách nói Miễn phí

000 Scene II. Leonato’s garden.

MAAN V. 2 Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting.

Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?

005 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

008 Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I 009 always keep below stairs?

010 Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth; it catches.

Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a 015 woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers.

Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.

020 Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.

Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret.

[Sings]

023 The god of love,

That sits above,

025 And knows me, and knows me,

How pitiful I deserve,—

I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole 029 bookful of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names 030 yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, 031 they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor 032 self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have 033 tried: I can find out no rhyme to ‘lady’ but ‘baby,’ an 034 innocent rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn,’ a hard rhyme; for 035 ‘school,’ ‘fool,’ a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: 036 no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot 037 woo in festival terms.

Enter Beatrice.

038 Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?

Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.

040 Bene. O, stay but till then!

Beat. ‘Then’ is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, 042 ere I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

045 Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

048 Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, 050 Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

054 Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic 055 a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts 057 did you first suffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love,—a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.

060 Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

064 Beat. It appears not in this confession: there’s not one 065 wise man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in 069 monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps.

070 Beat. And how long is that, think you?

071 Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter 072 in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, 074 to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So 075 much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?

Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?

Beat. Very ill too.

080 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I 081 leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; 085 and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior?

088 Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to 090 thy uncle’s. [Exeunt.