Читать книгу The Complete Works of Shakespeare онлайн

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A third is fled, that had a hand in it.

I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death;

Record it with your high and worthy deeds.

’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud.

I know not how to pray your patience,

Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself,

Impose me to what penance your invention

Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn’d I not,

But in mistaking.

D. Pedro.

By my soul, nor I,

And yet, to satisfy this good old man,

I would bend under any heavy weight

That he’ll enjoin me to.

Leon.

I cannot bid you bid my daughter live—

That were impossible—but I pray you both,

Possess the people in Messina here

How innocent she died, and if your love

Can labor aught in sad invention,

Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,

And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night.

To-morrow morning come you to my house,

And since you could not be my son-in-law,

Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,

Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,

And she alone is heir to both of us.

Give her the right you should have giv’n her cousin,