Speed.
3 Out.
Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you;
If not, we'll make you sit2 note
, and rifle you.
Speed.
Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.
Val.
My friends,—
1 Out.
That's not so, sir; we are your enemies.
2 Out.
Peace; we'll hear him.
3 Out.
Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper man3 note
.
-- 95 --
Val.
Then know, that I have little wealth to lose;
A man I am, cross'd with adversity:
My riches are these poor habiliments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.
2 Out.
Whither travel you?
Val.
To Verona.
1 Out.
Whence came you?
Val.
From Milan.
3 Out.
Have you long sojourn'd there?
Val.
Some sixteen months; and longer might have staid,
If crooked fortuune had not thwarted me.
What, were you banish'd thence?
Val.
I was.
2 Out.
For what offence?
Val.
For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.
1 Out.
Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so:
But were you banish'd for so small a fault?
Val.
I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
1 Out.
Have you the tongues?
Val.
My youthful travel therein made me happy;
Or else I often had been miserable.
3 Out.
By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar4 note
,
This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
-- 96 --
1 Out.
We'll have him: sirs, a word.
Speed.
Master, be one of them;
It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val.
Peace, villain!
2 Out.
Tell us this; Have you any thing to take to?
Val.
Nothing, but my fortune.
3 Out.
Know then that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men5 note
:
-- 97 --
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke6 note
.
2 Out.
And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,
Who, in my mood7 note, I stabb'd unto the heart.
-- 98 --
1 Out.
And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose,—for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives,
And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd
With goodly shape; and by your own report
A linguist; and a man of such perfection,
As we do in our quality8 note
much want;—
3 Out.
Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our general?
To make a virtue of necessity,
And live, as we do, in this wilderness?
3 Out.
What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say, ay, and be the captain of us all:
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander, and our king.
1 Out.
But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.
2 Out.
Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.
Val.
I take your offer, and will live with you;
Provided that you do no outrages9 note
On silly women, or poor passengers.
3 Out.
No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And shew thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.
[Exeunt.
-- 99 --
SCENE II.
Milan. The Court of the Palace.
Enter Proteus.
Pro.
Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falshood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips1 note
,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows, and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.
Enter Thurio, and Musicians.
Thu.
How now, sir Proteus? are you crept before us?
Pro.
Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go2 note
.
-- 100 --
Thu.
Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.
Pro.
Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
Thu.
Who? Silvia3 note?
Pro.
Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.
Thu.
I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.
Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy's claoths.
Host.
Now, my young guest! me thinks you're
allycholly; I pray you, why is it?
Jul.
Marry, mine host, because I cannot be
merry.
Host.
Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring
you where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman
that you ask'd for.
Jul.
But shall I hear him speak?
Host.
Ay, that you shall.
Jul.
That will be musick4 note
.
[Musick plays.
Host.
Hark! hark!
Jul.
Is he among these?
Host.
Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.
SONG.
Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her6 note
,
That she might admired be.
-- 101 --
Is she kind, as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness6 note
:
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excells each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling7 note
:
To her let us garlands bring.
Host.
How now? are you sadder than you were
before? How do you, man? the musick likes you
not.
Jul.
You mistake; the musician likes me not.
Host.
Why, my pretty youth?
Jul.
He plays false, father.
Host.
How? out of tune on the strings?
Jul.
Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my
very heart-strings.
Host.
You have a quick ear.
-- 102 --
Jul.
Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have
a slow heart.
Host.
I perceive, you delight not in musick.
Jul.
Not a whit, when it jars so.
Host.
Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
Jul.
Ay, that change is the spite.
Host.
You would then have them always play
but one thing?
Jul.
I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Proteus, that we talk on, often
resort unto this gentlewoman?
Host.
I tell you what Launce, his man, told me,
he lov'd her out of all nick8 note
.
Jul.
Where is Launce?
Host.
Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow,
by his master's command, he must carry for a present
to his lady.
Jul.
Peace! stand aside; the company parts.
Pro.
Sir Thurio, fear you not; I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu.
Where meet we?
Pro.
At saint Gregory's well.
Thu.
Farewell.
[Exeunt Thurio and Musicians.
Silvia appears above, at her window.
Pro.
Madam, good evening to your ladyship.
Sil.
I thank you for your musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?
-- 103 --
Pro.
One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil.
Sir Proteus, as I take it.
Pro.
Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil.
What is your will?
Pro.
That I may compass yours.
Sil.
You have your wish; my will is even this9 note,—
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,—by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro.
I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.
Jul.
'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried.
[Aside.
Sil.
Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd; And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him of thy importúnacy?
Pro.
I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil.
And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave1 note,
Assure thyself, my love is buried.
Pro.
Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Sil.
Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence;
Or, at the least, in her's sepulcher thine.
-- 104 --
Jul.
He heard not that.
[Aside.
Pro.
Madam, if your heart be so obdúrate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow will I make true love.
Jul.
If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.
[Aside.
Sil.
I am very loth to be your idol, sir;
But, since your falshood shall become you well2 note
-- 105 --
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
And so, good rest.
Pro.
As wretches have o'er night,
That wait for execution in the morn.
[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above.
Jul.
Host, will you go?
Host.
By my halidom3 note, I was fast asleep.
Jul.
Pray you, where lies sir Proteus?
Host.
Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think,
tis almost day.
Jul.
Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest4 note
.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same.
Enter Eglamour.
Egl.
This is the hour that madam Silvia
Entreated me to call, and know her mind;
There's some great matter she'd employ me in.—
Madam, madam!
Silvia appears above, at her window.
Sil.
Who calls?
-- 106 --
Egl.
Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil.
Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow.
Egl.
As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose5 note,
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.
Sil.
O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful6 note
, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd:
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity7 note:
-- 107 --
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.
Egl.
Madam, I pity much your grievances8 note
;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little9 note
what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?
Sil.
This evening coming.
Egl.
Where shall I meet you?
Sil.
At friar Patrick's cell,
Where I intend holy confession.
-- 108 --
Egl.
I will not fail your ladyship:
Good morrow, gentle lady.
Sil.
Good morrow, kind sir Eglamour.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The same.
Enter Launce with his dog.
Launce.
When a man's servant shall play the
cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I
brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from
drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers
and sisters went to it! I have taught him—even as
one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog.
I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress
Silvia, from my master; and I came no sooner into
the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher1 note,
and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul
thing, when a cur cannot keep himself2 note in all companies!
I would have, as one should say, one that
takes upon him to be a dog3 note indeed, to be, as it
were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit
than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think
verily he had been hang'd for't; sure as I live, he
had suffer'd for't: you shall judge. He thrusts me
himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like
dogs4 note, under the duke's table: he had not
-- 109 --
been there (bless the mark) a pissing while5 note, but
all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says
one; What cur is that? says another; Whip him
out, says the third; Hang him up, says the duke:
I, having been acquainted with the smell before,
knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that
whips the dogs6 note
: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip
the dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You do him
the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you
wot of. He makes me no more ado, but whips me
out of the chamber. How many masters would do
this for his servant7 note? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have
sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise
he had been executed: I have stood on the
pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had
suffer'd for't: thou think'st not of this now!—Nay,
I remember the trick you served me, when I took
my leave of madam Silvia8 note
; did not I bid thee still
mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me
heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's
-- 110 --
farthingale? Didst thou ever see me do
such a trick?
Enter Proteus and Julia.
Pro.
Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will employ thee in some service presently.
Jul.
In what you please;—I will* note do what I can.
Pro.
I hope thou wilt.—How, now, you whoreson peasant?
Where have you been these two days loitering?
Launce.
Marry, sir, I carry'd mistress Silvia the
dog you bade me.
Pro.
And what says she to my little jewel?
Launce.
Marry, she says, your dog was a cur;
and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for
such a present.
Pro.
But she receiv'd my dog?
Launce.
No, indeed, did she not: here have I
brought him back again.
Pro.
What, didst thou offer her this from me?
Launce.
Ay, sir; the other squirrel9 note
was stolen
from me by the hangman's boys in the market-place:
and then I offer'd her mine own; who is a dog as big
as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.
Pro.
Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again.
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
-- 111 --
Away, I say; Stayest thou to vex me here?
A slave, that still an end1 note
, turns me to shame.
[Exit Launce.
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lowt;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour;
Which (if my augury deceive me not,)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee2 note, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia:
She lov'd me well, deliver'd it to me3 note
.
Jul.
It seems, you lov'd not her, to leave her token:
-- 112 --
She's dead, belike4 note.
Pro.
Not so; I think, she lives.
Jul.
Alas!
Pro.
Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul.
I cannot choose but pity her?
-- 113 --
Pro.
Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul.
Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love;
You dote on her, that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity, love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!
Pro.
Well: give her that ring, and therewithal
This letter;—that's her chamber.—Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
[Exit Proteus.
Jul.
How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will:
And now am I (unhappy messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtain;
To carry that, which I would have refus'd5 note;
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true confirmed love;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter Silvia, attended.
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
-- 114 --
Sil.
What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul.
If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil.
From whom?
Jul.
From my master, sir Proteus, madam.
Sil.
O,—he sends you for a picture?
Jul.
Ay, madam.
Sil.
Ursula, bring my picture there.
[Picture brought.
Go, give your master this: tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow.
Jul.
Madam, please you peruse this letter.—
Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the letter to your ladyship.
Sil.
I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul.
It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
Sil.
There, hold.
I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know, they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break,
As easily as I do tear his paper.
Jul.
Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil.
The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
Jul.
She thanks you.
Sil.
What say'st thou?
Jul.
I thank you, madam, that you tender her:
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.
Sil.
Dost thou know her?
Jul.
Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept an hundred several times.
-- 115 --
Sil.
Belike, she thinks, that Proteus hath forsook her.
Jul.
I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.
Sil.
Is she not passing fair?
Jul.
She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgement, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I6 note
.
Sil.
How tall was she?
Jul.
About my stature: for, at pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown;
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgement,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore, I know she is about my height.
And, at that time I made her weep a-good7 note
,
For I did play a lamentable part:
-- 116 --
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight8 note
;
-- 117 --
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
Sil.
She is beholding to thee, gentle youth!—
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!—
I weep myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.
Farewell.
[Exit Silvia.
Jul.
And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.—
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
I hope, my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much9 note.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture: Let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow1 note:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig2 note
.
-- 118 --
Her eyes are grey as glass3 note
; and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low4 note
, and mine's as high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
-- 119 --
But I can make respective5 note in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd and ador'd;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead6 note
.
-- 120 --
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
-- 121 --
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes7 note
,
To make my master out of love with thee.
[Exit.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
