Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Enter Silvia. Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her. Vul. Madam and mistress, a thousand goodmorrows. Speed. O, 'give you good even; here's a million of manners. [Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks. First, you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a Robin-red-breast; 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; [done. when you looked sadly, it was for want of money : Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you For, being ignorant to whom it goes, my master. I writ at random, very doubtfully. Val. Are all these things perceived in me? 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. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not? Speed. Is she not hard favoured, sir? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured. Val. 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. Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. Val. How esteemest thou me? beauty. I account of her Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed. Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. 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! Val. 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. Val. 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. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease. Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you? Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ Speed. He should give her interest, and she gives it him. Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter, [pains? Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; [Aside. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ: Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request; My master sues to her; and she hath taught her 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? Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them ;- For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Peace, here she comes. Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Enter Panthino is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? it.-Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the cameleon 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. A Room in Julia's House. Enter Proteus and Julia. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. [Giving a ring Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips 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: [Exit Julia. Julia, farewell.-What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Laun. 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 pebblestone, 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, sir, 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,-0, 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, (0, 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. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd. Pan. What's the unkindest tide ? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. 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? Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pan. In thy tail? master, and the service? The tide! Why, man, Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the 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. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Laun. Well, I will go. SCENE IV. Milan. [Exeunt An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not ? Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote you my folly ? Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. 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. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. 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. Sil. 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? Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? Vul. 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 ? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Dulce. You know him well? Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd. 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; 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. [he. tleman. Enter Proteus. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gen [seech you, Val. Welcome, dear Proteus!-Mistress, I beConfirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. Val. Leave off discourse of disability:Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed; Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Sil. That you are welcome? Pro. No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, sir Thurio, Go with me:~Once more, new servant, welcome: I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. 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 chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorO, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; [TOW. 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. Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the idol that you worship so? Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? Pro. I will not flatter her. Vul. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you. Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Val. Sweet, except not any: Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. 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. Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; She is alone. [own; Pro. Then let her alone. And I as rich in having such a jewel, Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine 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, Bec use thou seest 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. Pro. But she loves you? Val. Ay, we are betroth'd Nay, more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determin'd 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. Pro. Go on before; I shall enquire you forth: I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use; And then I'll presently attend you. Val. Will you make haste ? Pro. I will. [Exit Val Even as one heat another heat expels, So the remembrance of my former love SCENE V.-The same. A street. Enter Speed and Launce. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Laun. 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. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear : Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of fivepence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia ? Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Laun. No. Speed. How then? shall he marry her? Speed. What, are they broken? Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. them? Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with Speed. What an ass art thou? I understand thee him, it stands well with her. not. Laun. What a block art thou, that thou can'st not? My staff understands me. Speed. What thou say'st? Laun. Ay, and what I do, too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun. 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. Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable. Speed. Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable lover? Laun. I never knew him otherwise. Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him master. Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the alehouse, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. Speed. Why? Jul. Counsel, Lucetta! gentle girl, assist me! Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. [food? Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones, | But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Done to me, undeserving as I am, Which else no worldly good should draw from me. I know, you have determined to bestow her 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 judg'd me fast asleep; And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your Sir Valentine her company, and my court: breeches? [lord, But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err, Jul. That fits as well, as-" tell me, good my And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, "What compass will you wear your farthingale ?" (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. piece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st 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 scandaliz'd. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go Jul. Nay, that I will not. [not. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, To bear a hard opinion of his truth: ACT III. Palace. [Exeunt. And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean Enter Valentine. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Val. 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? Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while; 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. Val. 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, froProud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; [ward, 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 SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; W'e have some secrets to confer about.. [Exit Thurio. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would disThe law of friendship bids me to conceal : [cover, I now am full resolved to take a wife, Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? |