Читать книгу The Complete Works of Shakespeare онлайн

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So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord.

Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.

Thou hast a lady far more beautiful

Than any woman in this waning age.

1. Serv.

And till the tears that she hath shed for thee

Like envious floods o’errun her lovely face,

She was the fairest creature in the world,

And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly.

Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?

Or do I dream? Or have I dream’d till now?

I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;

I smell sweet savors, and I feel soft things.

Upon my life, I am a lord indeed,

And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.

Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,

And once again a pot o’ th’ smallest ale.

2. Serv.

Will’t please your mightiness to wash your hands?

O how we joy to see your wit restor’d!

O that once more you knew but what you are!

These fifteen years you have been in a dream,

Or when you wak’d, so wak’d as if you slept.

Sly.

These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap,

But did I never speak of all that time?