« НазадПродовжити »
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,
against The stomach of my sense: 'Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy remov'd, I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine hair Of Naples and of Milan ! what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee? Fran.
Sir, he may live:
No, no; he's gone.
Pr’ythee, peace. Sb. You were kneeld to, and importun'd
otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself
The meaning of this line will be clear enough, if wrio de un derstood as referring to eye " Who and which were often used indiscriminately.
Weigh’d, between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost
Alon. So is the dear'st o' the loss.
My lord Sebastian,
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
Foul weather ?
Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I'the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure: No sovereignty :
Si. e. she was in doubt towards whicb scale of the balance she should incline.
Yet he would be king on’. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
Gon. All things in common nature should produce
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects ?
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
'Save his majesty! Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon.
And, do you mark me, sir ? Alon. Pr’ythee, no more: thou dost talk noth
ing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did
10 An engine was a term applied to any kind of machine in Shakespeare's age.
11 Foison is only another word for plenty or abundance of provision, but chiefly of the fruits of the earth.
12 In Montaigne's Essay “ of the Cannibals,” translated by Florio in 1603, is the following: «Me seemeth that what in those nations we see by experience, doth not only exceed all the pictures wherewith licentious poesy hath proudly embellished the golden age, and all her quaint inventions to feign a happy condition of man, but also the conception and desire of philosophy. - It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kind of t-affic, no knowledge of letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politic superiority; no use of service, of riches, or of poverty; no contracts, no successions, no dividences; no occupation, but idle ; no respect of kindred, but common; no apparel, but natural; no manuring of lands; no use of wine corn, or metal. The very words that import lying, falsehood, treason, dissimulation, covetousness, envy, detraction, and pardon were never hrard amongst them." From which it is plain enough, that Montaign and Gonzalo must have been together, and « fed on one thonght "
it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.
Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothung still.
Ant. What a blow was there given!
Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.
Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy ? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.
[All sleep but Alon. SEB. and ANT Alon. What! all so soon asleep? I wish mine
eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts :)
Please you, sir,
We two, my lord,
Thank you: Wondrous heavy [Alonzo sleeps. Erit ARIEI.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Nor I: my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might Werthy Sebastian ! 13 — 0, what might !-- No
more :And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: The occasion speaks
What! art thou waking ?
I do; and, surely,
Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep — die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb.
Thou dost snore distinctly: There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do, Trebles thee o'er.14
Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
13 Understand be after Sebastian. 14 i e. makes thee three times what thou art now.