THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA

Contents

bulletDRAMATIS PERSONAE
bulletScene
bulletAct I
bulletScene I Verona. An open place
bulletScene II The same. Garden of JULIA's house
bulletScene III The same. ANTONIO's house
bulletAct II
bulletScene I Milan. The DUKE's palace
bulletScene II Verona. JULIA'S house
bulletScene III The same. A street
bulletScene IV Milan. The DUKE's palace
bulletScene V The same. A street
bulletScene VI The same. The DUKE'S palace
bulletScene VII Verona. JULIA'S house
bulletAct III
bulletScene I Milan. The DUKE's palace
bulletScene II The same. The DUKE's palace
bulletAct IV
bulletScene I The frontiers of Mantua. A forest
bulletScene II Milan. Outside the DUKE's palace, under SILVIA's chamber
bulletScene III The same
bulletScene IV The same
bulletAct V
bulletScene I Milan. An abbey
bulletScene II The same. The DUKE's palace
bulletScene III The frontiers of Mantua. The forest
bulletScene IV Another part of the forest

 

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

DUKE OF MILAN Father to Silvia (DUKE:)
VALENTINE &
PROTEUS 		)
) the two Gentlemen.
ANTONIO Father to Proteus
THURIO a foolish rival to Valentine
EGLAMOUR Agent for Silvia in her escape
HOST where Julia lodges (Host:)
OUTLAWS with Valentine
(First Outlaw:)
(Second Outlaw:)
(Third Outlaw:)
SPEED a clownish servant to Valentine
LAUNCE the like to Proteus
PANTHINO Servant to Antonio
JULIA beloved of Proteus
SILVIA beloved of Valentine
LUCETTA waiting-woman to Julia
Servants, Musicians

Scene

Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua

Act I

Scene I Verona. An open place

[Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS]
VALENTINE Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
Even as I would when I to love begin.
PROTEUS Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!
Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.
VALENTINE And on a love-book pray for my success?
PROTEUS Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.
VALENTINE That's on some shallow story of deep love:
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
PROTEUS That's a deep story of a deeper love:
For he was more than over shoes in love.
VALENTINE 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swum the Hellespont.
PROTEUS Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
VALENTINE No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
PROTEUS What?
VALENTINE To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
PROTEUS So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
VALENTINE So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.
PROTEUS 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love.
VALENTINE Love is your master, for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
PROTEUS Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
VALENTINE And writers say, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu! my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
PROTEUS And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
VALENTINE Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And likewise will visit thee with mine.
PROTEUS All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
VALENTINE As much to you at home! and so, farewell.
[Exit]
PROTEUS He after honour hunts, I after love:
He leaves his friends to dignify them more,
I leave myself, my friends and all, for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me,
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
[Enter SPEED]
SPEED Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master?
PROTEUS But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.
SPEED Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already,
And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
PROTEUS Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be a while away.
SPEED You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then,
and I a sheep?
PROTEUS I do.
SPEED Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
PROTEUS A silly answer and fitting well a sheep.
SPEED This proves me still a sheep.
PROTEUS True; and thy master a shepherd.
SPEED Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
PROTEUS It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another.
SPEED The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the
shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks
not me: therefore I am no sheep.
PROTEUS The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the
shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for
wages followest thy master; thy master for wages
follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.
SPEED Such another proof will make me cry 'baa.'
PROTEUS But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia?
SPEED Ay sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her,
a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a
lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
PROTEUS Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
SPEED If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
PROTEUS Nay: in that you are astray, 'twere best pound you.
SPEED Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for
carrying your letter.
PROTEUS You mistake; I mean the pound,--a pinfold.
SPEED From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to
your lover.
PROTEUS But what said she?
SPEED [First nodding] Ay.
PROTEUS Nod--Ay--why, that's noddy.
SPEED You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask
me if she did nod; and I say, 'Ay.'
PROTEUS And that set together is noddy.
SPEED Now you have taken the pains to set it together,
take it for your pains.
PROTEUS No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.
SPEED Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
PROTEUS Why sir, how do you bear with me?
SPEED Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing
but the word 'noddy' for my pains.
PROTEUS Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
SPEED And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
PROTEUS Come come, open the matter in brief: what said she?
SPEED Open your purse, that the money and the matter may
be both at once delivered.
PROTEUS Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
SPEED Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
PROTEUS Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
SPEED Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no,
not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter:
and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I
fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your
mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as
hard as steel.
PROTEUS What said she? nothing?
SPEED No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To
testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned
me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your
letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.
PROTEUS Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
Which cannot perish having thee aboard,
Being destined to a drier death on shore.
[Exit SPEED]
I must go send some better messenger:
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post.
[Exit]

Scene II The same. Garden of JULIA's house

[Enter JULlA and LUCETTA]
JULIA But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
LUCETTA Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
JULIA Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
LUCETTA Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.
JULIA What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
LUCETTA As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;
But, were I you, he never should be mine.
JULIA What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
LUCETTA Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.
JULIA What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
LUCETTA Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
JULIA How now! what means this passion at his name?
LUCETTA Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
JULIA Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
LUCETTA Then thus: of many good I think him best.
JULIA Your reason?
LUCETTA I have no other, but a woman's reason;
I think him so because I think him so.
JULIA And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
LUCETTA Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
JULIA Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me.
LUCETTA Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
JULIA His little speaking shows his love but small.
LUCETTA Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
JULIA They do not love that do not show their love.
LUCETTA O, they love least that let men know their love.
JULIA I would I knew his mind.
LUCETTA Peruse this paper, madam.
JULIA 'To Julia.' Say, from whom?
LUCETTA That the contents will show.
JULIA Say, say, who gave it thee?
LUCETTA Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.
He would have given it you; but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it: pardon the
fault I pray.
JULIA Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth
And you an officer fit for the place.
Or else return no more into my sight.
LUCETTA To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
JULIA Will ye be gone?
LUCETTA That you may ruminate.
[Exit]
JULIA And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter:
It were a shame to call her back again
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that
Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.'
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!
[Re-enter LUCETTA]
LUCETTA What would your ladyship?
JULIA Is't near dinner-time?
LUCETTA I would it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat
And not upon your maid.
JULIA What is't that you took up so gingerly?
LUCETTA Nothing.
JULIA Why didst thou stoop, then?
LUCETTA To take a paper up that I let fall.
JULIA And is that paper nothing?
LUCETTA Nothing concerning me.
JULIA Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
LUCETTA Madam, it will not lie where it concerns
Unless it have a false interpeter.
JULIA Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
LUCETTA That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
Give me a note: your ladyship can set.
JULIA As little by such toys as may be possible.
Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'
LUCETTA It is too heavy for so light a tune.
JULIA Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?
LUCETTA Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
JULIA And why not you?
LUCETTA I cannot reach so high.
JULIA Let's see your song. How now, minion!
LUCETTA Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA You do not?
LUCETTA No, madam; it is too sharp.
JULIA You, minion, are too saucy.
LUCETTA Nay, now you are too flat
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
JULIA The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation!
[Tears the letter]
Go get you gone, and let the papers lie:
You would be fingering them, to anger me.
LUCETTA She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased
To be so anger'd with another letter.
[Exit]
JULIA Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one on another:
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
[Re-enter LUCETTA]
LUCETTA Madam,
Dinner is ready, and your father stays.
JULIA Well, let us go.
LUCETTA What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
JULIA If you respect them, best to take them up.
LUCETTA Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
JULIA I see you have a month's mind to them.
LUCETTA Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
JULIA Come, come; will't please you go?
[Exeunt]

Scene III The same. ANTONIO's house

[Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO]
ANTONIO Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
PANTHINO 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
ANTONIO Why, what of him?
PANTHINO He wonder'd that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some to discover islands far away;
Some to the studious universities.
For any or for all these exercises,
He said that Proteus your son was meet,
And did request me to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.
ANTONIO Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have consider'd well his loss of time
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry achieved
And perfected by the swift course of time.
Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
PANTHINO I think your lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.
ANTONIO I know it well.
PANTHINO 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither:
There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,
Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen.
And be in eye of every exercise
Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.
ANTONIO I like thy counsel; well hast thou advised:
And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make known.
Even with the speediest expedition
I will dispatch him to the emperor's court.
PANTHINO To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
With other gentlemen of good esteem,
Are journeying to salute the emperor
And to commend their service to his will.
ANTONIO Good company; with them shall Proteus go:
And, in good time! now will we break with him.
[Enter PROTEUS]
PROTEUS Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
To seal our happiness with their consents!
O heavenly Julia!
ANTONIO How now! what letter are you reading there?
PROTEUS May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations sent from Valentine,
Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.
ANTONIO Lend me the letter; let me see what news.
PROTEUS There is no news, my lord, but that he writes
How happily he lives, how well beloved
And daily graced by the emperor;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
ANTONIO And how stand you affected to his wish?
PROTEUS As one relying on your lordship's will
And not depending on his friendly wish.
ANTONIO My will is something sorted with his wish.
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the emperor's court:
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
To-morrow be in readiness to go:
Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
PROTEUS My lord, I cannot be so soon provided:
Please you, deliberate a day or two.
ANTONIO Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee:
No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.
Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition.
[Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO]
PROTEUS Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
And with the vantage of mine own excuse
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!
[Re-enter PANTHINO]
PANTHINO Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
He is in haste; therefore, I pray you to go.
PROTEUS Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answers 'no.'
[Exeunt]

Act II

Scene I Milan. The DUKE's palace

[Enter VALENTINE and SPEED]
SPEED Sir, your glove.
VALENTINE Not mine; my gloves are on.
SPEED Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
VALENTINE Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
SPEED Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!
VALENTINE How now, sirrah?
SPEED She is not within hearing, sir.
VALENTINE Why, sir, who bade you call her?
SPEED Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.
VALENTINE Well, you'll still be too forward.
SPEED And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
VALENTINE Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?
SPEED She that your worship loves?
VALENTINE Why, how know you that I am in love?
SPEED Marry, by these special marks: first, you have
learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms,
like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a
robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had
the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had
lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had
buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes
diet; to watch like one that fears robbing; to
speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were
wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you
walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you
fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you
looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you
are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look
on you, I can hardly think you my master.
VALENTINE Are all these things perceived in me?
SPEED They are all perceived without ye.
VALENTINE Without me? they cannot.
SPEED Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you
were so simple, none else would: but you are so
without these follies, that these follies are within
you and shine through you like the water in an
urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a
physician to comment on your malady.
VALENTINE But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
SPEED She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?
VALENTINE Hast thou observed that? even she, I mean.
SPEED Why, sir, I know her not.
VALENTINE Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet
knowest her not?
SPEED Is she not hard-favoured, sir?
VALENTINE Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.
SPEED Sir, I know that well enough.
VALENTINE What dost thou know?
SPEED That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured.
VALENTINE I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.
SPEED That's because the one is painted and the other out
of all count.
VALENTINE How painted? and how out of count?
SPEED Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no
man counts of her beauty.
VALENTINE How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.
SPEED You never saw her since she was deformed.
VALENTINE How long hath she been deformed?
SPEED Ever since you loved her.
VALENTINE I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I
see her beautiful.
SPEED If you love her, you cannot see her.
VALENTINE Why?
SPEED Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes;
or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to
have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going
ungartered!
VALENTINE What should I see then?
SPEED Your own present folly and her passing deformity:
for he, being in love, could not see to garter his
hose, and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.
VALENTINE Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last
morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.
SPEED True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you,
you swinged me for my love, which makes me the
bolder to chide you for yours.
VALENTINE In conclusion, I stand affected to her.
SPEED I would you were set, so your affection would cease.
VALENTINE Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to
one she loves.
SPEED And have you?
VALENTINE I have.
SPEED Are they not lamely writ?
VALENTINE No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace!
here she comes.
SPEED [Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!
Now will he interpret to her.
[Enter SILVIA]
VALENTINE Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.
SPEED [Aside] O, give ye good even! here's a million of manners.
SILVIA Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
SPEED [Aside] He should give her interest and she gives it him.
VALENTINE As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in
But for my duty to your ladyship.
SILVIA I thank you gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.
VALENTINE Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For being ignorant to whom it goes
I writ at random, very doubtfully.
SILVIA Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
VALENTINE No, madam; so it stead you, I will write
Please you command, a thousand times as much; And yet--
SILVIA A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;
And yet I will not name it; and yet I care not;
And yet take this again; and yet I thank you,
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
SPEED [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another 'yet.'
VALENTINE What means your ladyship? do you not like it?
SILVIA Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ;
But since unwillingly, take them again.
Nay, take them.
VALENTINE Madam, they are for you.
SILVIA Ay, ay: you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you;
I would have had them writ more movingly.
VALENTINE Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
SILVIA And when it's writ, for my sake read it over,
And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
VALENTINE If it please me, madam, what then?
SILVIA Why, if it please you, take it for your labour:
And so, good morrow, servant.
[Exit]
SPEED O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
My master sues to her, and she hath
taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! was there ever heard a better,
That my master, being scribe, to himself should write
the letter?
VALENTINE How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?
SPEED Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.
VALENTINE To do what?
SPEED To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia.
VALENTINE To whom?
SPEED To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.
VALENTINE What figure?
SPEED By a letter, I should say.
VALENTINE Why, she hath not writ to me?
SPEED What need she, when she hath made you write to
yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?
VALENTINE No, believe me.
SPEED No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive
her earnest?
VALENTINE She gave me none, except an angry word.
SPEED Why, she hath given you a letter.
VALENTINE That's the letter I writ to her friend.
SPEED And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.
VALENTINE I would it were no worse.
SPEED I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:
For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover,
Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.
All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time.
VALENTINE I have dined.
SPEED Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can
feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my
victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like
your mistress; be moved, be moved.
[Exeunt]

Scene II Verona. JULIA'S house

[Enter PROTEUS and JULIA]
PROTEUS Have patience, gentle Julia.
JULIA I must, where is no remedy.
PROTEUS When possibly I can, I will return.
JULIA If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
[Giving a ring]
PROTEUS Why then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this.
JULIA And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
PROTEUS Here is my hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears;
That tide will stay me longer than I should.
Julia, farewell!
[Exit JULIA]
What, gone without a word?
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
[Enter PANTHINO]
PANTHINO Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
PROTEUS Go; I come, I come.
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
[Exeunt]

Scene III The same. A street

[Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog]
LAUNCE Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping;
all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I
have received my proportion, like the prodigious
son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's
court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured
dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father
wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat
wringing her hands, and all our house in a great
perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed
one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble stone, and
has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have
wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam,
having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my
parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This
shoe is my father: no, this left shoe is my father:
no, no, this left shoe is my mother: nay, that
cannot be so neither: yes, it is so, it is so, it
hath the worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in
it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance
on't! there 'tis: now, sit, this staff is my
sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and
as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I
am the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the
dog--Oh! the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so,
so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing:
now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping:
now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on. Now
come I to my mother: O, that she could speak now
like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her; why, there
'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down. Now
come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now
the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a
word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.
[Enter PANTHINO]
PANTHINO Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped
and thou art to post after with oars. What's the
matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! You'll
lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
LAUNCE It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the
unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
PANTHINO What's the unkindest tide?
LAUNCE Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog.
PANTHINO Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in
losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing
thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy
master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy
service,--Why dost thou stop my mouth?
LAUNCE For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PANTHINO Where should I lose my tongue?
LAUNCE In thy tale.
PANTHINO In thy tail!
LAUNCE Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and
the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river
were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the
wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs.
PANTHINO Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
LAUNCE Sir, call me what thou darest.
PANTHINO Wilt thou go?
LAUNCE Well, I will go.
[Exeunt]

Scene IV Milan. The DUKE's palace

[Enter SILVIA, VALENTINE, THURIO, and SPEED]
SILVIA Servant!
VALENTINE Mistress?
SPEED Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
VALENTINE Ay, boy, it's for love.
SPEED Not of you.
VALENTINE Of my mistress, then.
SPEED 'Twere good you knocked him.
[Exit]
SILVIA Servant, you are sad.
VALENTINE Indeed, madam, I seem so.
THURIO Seem you that you are not?
VALENTINE Haply I do.
THURIO So do counterfeits.
VALENTINE So do you.
THURIO What seem I that I am not?
VALENTINE Wise.
THURIO What instance of the contrary?
VALENTINE Your folly.
THURIO And how quote you my folly?
VALENTINE I quote it in your jerkin.
THURIO My jerkin is a doublet.
VALENTINE Well, then, I'll double your folly.
THURIO How?
SILVIA What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour?
VALENTINE Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon.
THURIO That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live
in your air.
VALENTINE You have said, sir.
THURIO Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.
VALENTINE I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin.
SILVIA A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.
VALENTINE 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.
SILVIA Who is that, servant?
VALENTINE Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir
Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks,
and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.
THURIO Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt.
VALENTINE I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words,
and, I think, no other treasure to give your
followers, for it appears by their bare liveries,
that they live by your bare words.
SILVIA No more, gentlemen, no more:--here comes my father.
[Enter DUKE]
DUKE Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?
VALENTINE My lord, I will be thankful.
To any happy messenger from thence.
DUKE Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman?
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth and worthy estimation
And not without desert so well reputed.
DUKE Hath he not a son?
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
DUKE You know him well?
VALENTINE I know him as myself; for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, for far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow,
He is complete in feature and in mind
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
DUKE Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an empress' love
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you.
VALENTINE Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.
DUKE Welcome him then according to his worth.
Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio;
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:
I will send him hither to you presently.
[Exit]
VALENTINE This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
SILVIA Belike that now she hath enfranchised them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
VALENTINE Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
SILVIA Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind
How could he see his way to seek out you?
VALENTINE Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.
THURIO They say that Love hath not an eye at all.
VALENTINE To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:
Upon a homely object Love can wink.
SILVIA Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.
[Exit THURIO]
[Enter PROTEUS]
VALENTINE Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SILVIA His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.
VALENTINE Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
SILVIA Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
PROTEUS Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
VALENTINE Leave off discourse of disability:
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
PROTEUS My duty will I boast of; nothing else.
SILVIA And duty never yet did want his meed:
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
PROTEUS I'll die on him that says so but yourself.
SILVIA That you are welcome?
PROTEUS That you are worthless.
[Re-enter THURIO]
THURIO Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
SILVIA I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio,
Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
PROTEUS We'll both attend upon your ladyship.
[Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO]
VALENTINE Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?
PROTEUS Your friends are well and have them much commended.
VALENTINE And how do yours?
PROTEUS I left them all in health.
VALENTINE How does your lady? and how thrives your love?
PROTEUS My tales of love were wont to weary you;
I know you joy not in a love discourse.
VALENTINE Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs;
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his service no such joy on earth.
Now no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.
PROTEUS Enough; I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this the idol that you worship so?
VALENTINE Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
PROTEUS No; but she is an earthly paragon.
VALENTINE Call her divine.
PROTEUS I will not flatter her.
VALENTINE O, flatter me; for love delights in praises.
PROTEUS When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.
VALENTINE Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
PROTEUS Except my mistress.
VALENTINE Sweet, except not any;
Except thou wilt except against my love.
PROTEUS Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
VALENTINE And I will help thee to prefer her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour--
To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
And make rough winter everlastingly.
PROTEUS Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this?
VALENTINE Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing
To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone.
PROTEUS Then let her alone.
VALENTINE Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou see'st me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
PROTEUS But she loves you?
VALENTINE Ay, and we are betroth'd: nay, more, our,
marriage-hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determined of; how I must climb her window,
The ladder made of cords, and all the means
Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
PROTEUS Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use,
And then I'll presently attend you.
VALENTINE Will you make haste?
PROTEUS I will.
[Exit VALENTINE]
Even as one heat another heat expels,
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine, or Valentine's praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me reasonless to reason thus?
She is fair; and so is Julia that I love--
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,
And that I love him not as I was wont.
O, but I love his lady too too much,
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her!
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can cheque my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.
[Exit]

Scene V The same. A street

[Enter SPEED and LAUNCE severally]
SPEED Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan!
LAUNCE Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not
welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never
undone till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a
place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess
say 'Welcome!'
SPEED Come on, you madcap, I'll to the alehouse with you
presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou
shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how
did thy master part with Madam Julia?
LAUNCE Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very
fairly in jest.
SPEED But shall she marry him?
LAUNCE No.
SPEED How then? shall he marry her?
LAUNCE No, neither.
SPEED What, are they broken?
LAUNCE No, they are both as whole as a fish.
SPEED Why, then, how stands the matter with them?
LAUNCE Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her.
SPEED What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
LAUNCE What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My
staff understands me.
SPEED What thou sayest?
LAUNCE Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean,
and my staff understands me.
SPEED It stands under thee, indeed.
LAUNCE Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.
SPEED But tell me true, will't be a match?
LAUNCE Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will! if he say no,
it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will.
SPEED The conclusion is then that it will.
LAUNCE Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.
SPEED 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how sayest
thou, that my master is become a notable lover?
LAUNCE I never knew him otherwise.
SPEED Than how?
LAUNCE A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
SPEED Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me.
LAUNCE Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.
SPEED I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
LAUNCE Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself
in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse;
if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the
name of a Christian.
SPEED Why?
LAUNCE Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to
go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?
SPEED At thy service.
[Exeunt]

Scene VI The same. The DUKE'S palace

[Enter PROTEUS]
PROTEUS To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;
And even that power which gave me first my oath
Provokes me to this threefold perjury;
Love bade me swear and Love bids me forswear.
O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there I leave to love where I should love.
Julia I lose and Valentine I lose:
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss
For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend,
For love is still most precious in itself;
And Silvia--witness Heaven, that made her fair!--
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembering that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window,
Myself in counsel, his competitor.
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight;
Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross
By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!
[Exit]

Scene VII Verona. JULIA'S house

[Enter JULIA and LUCETTA]
JULIA Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me;
And even in kind love I do conjure thee,
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engraved,
To lesson me and tell me some good mean
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.
LUCETTA Alas, the way is wearisome and long!
JULIA A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;
Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly,
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.
LUCETTA Better forbear till Proteus make return.
JULIA O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food?
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
LUCETTA I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
JULIA The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell'ed stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go and hinder not my course
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
LUCETTA But in what habit will you go along?
JULIA Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
LUCETTA Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
JULIA No, girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
LUCETTA What fashion, madam shall I make your breeches?
JULIA That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?'
Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.
LUCETTA You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
JULIA Out, out, Lucetta! that would be ill-favour'd.
LUCETTA A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin,
Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.
JULIA Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have
What thou thinkest meet and is most mannerly.
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid a journey?
I fear me, it will make me scandalized.
LUCETTA If you think so, then stay at home and go not.
JULIA Nay, that I will not.
LUCETTA Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey when you come,
No matter who's displeased when you are gone:
I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.
JULIA That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears
And instances of infinite of love
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
LUCETTA All these are servants to deceitful men.
JULIA Base men, that use them to so base effect!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
LUCETTA Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him!
JULIA Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong
To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
Only deserve my love by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but to it presently!
I am impatient of my tarriance.
[Exeunt]

Act III

Scene I Milan. The DUKE's palace

[Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS]
DUKE Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;
We have some secrets to confer about.
[Exit THURIO]
Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?
PROTEUS My gracious lord, that which I would discover
The law of friendship bids me to conceal;
But when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter:
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know you have determined to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should she thus be stol'n away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
DUKE Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply when they have judged me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purposed to forbid
Sir Valentine her company and my court:
But fearing lest my jealous aim might err
And so unworthily disgrace the man,
A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
PROTEUS Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean
How he her chamber-window will ascend
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my Lord, do it so cunningly
That my discovery be not aimed at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.
DUKE Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
PROTEUS Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit]
[Enter VALENTINE]
DUKE Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VALENTINE Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.
DUKE Be they of much import?
VALENTINE The tenor of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.
DUKE Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile;
I am to break with thee of some affairs
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.
VALENTINE I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my child
Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
VALENTINE What would your Grace have me to do in this?
DUKE There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor--
For long agone I have forgot to court;
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed--
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
DUKE But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VALENTINE A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!'
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
DUKE But she I mean is promised by her friends
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.
VALENTINE Why, then, I would resort to her by night.
DUKE Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
VALENTINE What lets but one may enter at her window?
DUKE Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.
VALENTINE Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.
DUKE Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
VALENTINE When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.
DUKE This very night; for Love is like a child,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.
VALENTINE By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
DUKE But, hark thee; I will go to her alone:
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
VALENTINE It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length.
DUKE A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord.
DUKE Then let me see thy cloak:
I'll get me one of such another length.
VALENTINE Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
DUKE How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'!
And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.
[Reads]
'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
And slaves they are to me that send them flying:
O, could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!
My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them:
While I, their king, that hither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,
Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord would be.'
What's here?
'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.'
'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton,--for thou art Merops' son,--
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder! overweening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence:
Thank me for this more than for all the favours
Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit]
VALENTINE And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadl