قراءة كتاب Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 7
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 6
ye love me,
You have learn'd my name.
Ism. No, no, not now: vows should be cheerful things,
Done in the cleerest light, and noblest testimony:
No vow, dear Sir, tie not my fair belief
To such strict terms: those men have broken credits,
Loose and dismembred faiths (my dear Antonio)
That splinter 'em with vows: am I not too bold?
Correct me when you please.
Done in the cleerest light, and noblest testimony:
No vow, dear Sir, tie not my fair belief
To such strict terms: those men have broken credits,
Loose and dismembred faiths (my dear Antonio)
That splinter 'em with vows: am I not too bold?
Correct me when you please.
Ant. I had rather hear ye,
For so sweet Musick never stru[c]k mine ears yet:
Will you believe now?
For so sweet Musick never stru[c]k mine ears yet:
Will you believe now?
Ism. Yes.
Ant. I am yours.
Ism. Speak louder,
If ye answer the Priest so low, you will lose your wedding.
If ye answer the Priest so low, you will lose your wedding.
Mar. Would I might speak, I would holloa.
Ant. Take my heart,
And if it be not firm and honest to you,
Heaven—
And if it be not firm and honest to you,
Heaven—
Ism. Peace, no more: I'll keep your heart, and credit it.
Keep you your word: [when] will you come again (Friend?)
For this time we have woo'd indifferently.
I would fain see ye, when I dare be bolder.
Keep you your word: [when] will you come again (Friend?)
For this time we have woo'd indifferently.
I would fain see ye, when I dare be bolder.
Ant. Why any night: only (dear noble Mistriss)
Pardon three daies: my Uncle Julio
Has bound me to attend him upon promise,
Upon expectation too: we have rare sports there,
Rare Countrey sports, I would you could but see 'em.
Dare ye so honor me?
Pardon three daies: my Uncle Julio
Has bound me to attend him upon promise,
Upon expectation too: we have rare sports there,
Rare Countrey sports, I would you could but see 'em.
Dare ye so honor me?
Ism. I dare not be there,
You know I dare not, no, I must not (Friend)
Where I may come with honourable freedom:
Alas, I am ill too; we in love.
You know I dare not, no, I must not (Friend)
Where I may come with honourable freedom:
Alas, I am ill too; we in love.
Ant. You flout me.
Ism. Trust me I do not: I speak truth, I am sickly,
And am in love: but you must be Physician.
And am in love: but you must be Physician.
Ant. I'll make a plaister of my best affection.
Ism. Be gone, we have supp'd, I hear the people stir,
Take my best wishes: give me no cause (Antonio)
To curse this happy night.
Take my best wishes: give me no cause (Antonio)
To curse this happy night.
Ism. Take ten thousand back again.
Mar. I am dumb with admiration: shall we goe, Sir? [Exeunt.
Ism. Dost thou know his Uncle?
Am. No, but I can ask, Cosin.
Ism. I'll tell thee more of that, come, let's to bed both,
And give me handsome dreams, Love, I beseech thee.
And give me handsome dreams, Love, I beseech thee.
Am. 'Has given ye a handsome subject.
Ism. Pluck to the windows. [Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Bustofa.
Bust. THe thundring Seas, whose watry fire washes
The whiting mops:
The gentle Whale whose feet so fell
Flies o'r the Mountains tops. [within Franio.
The whiting mops:
The gentle Whale whose feet so fell
Flies o'r the Mountains tops. [within Franio.
Fra. Boy.
Bust. The thundring.
Fra. Why boy Bustofa.
Bust. Here I am, the gentle Whale.
Enter Franio.
Fra. Oh, are you here, Sir? where's your Sister?
Bust. The gentle Whale flies o'r the Mountain tops.
Fra. Where's your sister (man)?
Bust. Washes the whiting-Mops.
Fra. Thou ly'st, she has none to wash Mops?
The boy is half way out of his wits, sure:
Sirrah, who am I?
The boy is half way out of his wits, sure:
Sirrah, who am I?
Bust. The thundring Seas.
Fra. Mad, stark mad.
Bust. Will you not give a man leave to con?
Fra. Yes, and fesse too, e'r I have done with you Sirrah,
Am I your father?
Am I your father?
Bust. The question is too hard for a child, ask me any thing
That I have learn'd, and I'll answer you.
That I have learn'd, and I'll answer you.
Fra. Is that a hard question? Sirrah, am not I your Father?
Fra. Are you a thief?
Bust. So far forth as the Son of a Miller.
Fra. Will you be hang'd?
Bust. Let it go by eldership. The gentle Whale.—
Fra. Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there,
And beat your brains about your own affairs: or—
And beat your brains about your own affairs: or—
Bust. I thank you; you'ld have me goe under the sails
And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural
Father you are.—
And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural
Father you are.—
Fra. I charge you goe not to the sports to day:
Last night I gave you leave, now I recant.
Last night I gave you leave, now I recant.
Bust. Is the wind turn'd since last night?