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

000 Scene IV. A room in Leonato’s house.

MAAN V. 4 Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Friar Francis, and Hero.

Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her

Upon the error that you heard debated:

But Margaret was in some fault for this,

005 Although against her will, as it appears

In the true course of all the question.

007 Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced

To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

010 Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,

Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,

012 And when I send for you, come hither mask’d. [Exeunt Ladies.

The prince and Claudio promised by this hour

To visit me. You know your office, brother:

015 You must be father to your brother’s daughter,

And give her to young Claudio.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm’d countenance.

Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

Friar. To do what, signior?

020 Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them.

Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,

Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

023 Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.

025 Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me,

From Claudio, and the prince: but what’s your will?

Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:

But, for my will, my will is, your good will

May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d

030 In the state of honourable marriage:

031 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon. My heart is with your liking.

Friar.

And my help.

033 Here comes the prince and Claudio.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, and two or three others.

034 D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.

035 Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio:

We here attend you. Are you yet determin’d

To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?

Claud. I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.

Leon. Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready. [Exit Antonio.

D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the 040 matter,

That you have such a February face,

So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?

Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull.

Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold,

045 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;

As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;

And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow,

050 And got a calf in that same noble feat

Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

052 Claud. For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.

Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

054 Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.

Claud. Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your 055 face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand

Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

058 Claud. Give me your hand: before this holy friar,

I am your husband, if you like of me.

060 Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [Unmasking.

And when you loved, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero!

Hero.

Nothing certainer:

063 One Hero died defiled; but I do live,

And surely as I live, I am a maid.

065 D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify;

When after that the holy rites are ended,

069 I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death:

070 Meantime let wonder seem familiar,

And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?

Beat. [Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat.

074 Why, no; no more than reason.

075 Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio

076 Have been deceived; they swore you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene.

077 Troth, no; no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula

079 Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.

080 Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me.

081 Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

082 Bene. ’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

085 Claud. And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her;

For here’s a paper, written in his hand,

A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,

Fashion’d to Beatrice.

Hero.

And here’s another,

Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket,

090 Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

094 Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I 095 yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, 096 for I was told you were in a consumption.

097 Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her.

D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

099 Bene. I’ll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers 100 cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten 102 with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome about him. In 103 brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore 105 never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, 110 that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou 112 wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends: let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, 115 and our wives’ heels.

116 Leon. We’ll have dancing afterward.

117 Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, 118 thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

Enter a Messenger.

120 Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight,

And brought with armed men back to Messina.

122 Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers. [Dance. [Exeunt.