Speed.
3 Out.
Stand, Sir, and throw us what you have about you;
If not, we'll make you, Sir, and rifle you.6 note
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
man.
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.
-- 234 --
3 Out.
Have you long sojourn'd there?
Val.
Some sixteen months; and longer might have staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1 Out.
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* note Robin Hood's fat friar,
This fellow were a King for our wild faction.
1 Out.
We'll have him. Sirs, a word.
Speed.
Master be one of them: it's 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 men;7 note
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near ally'd unto the Duke.8 note
-- 235 --
2 Out.
And I from Mantua, for a gentleman
Whom, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.
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 quality much want;—
2 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 the 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 dy'st.
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 outrages
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, shall rest at thy dispose.
[Exeunt.
-- 236 --
SCENE II.
Changes to an open Place, under Silvia's Apartment, in Milan.
Enter Protheus.
Pro.
Already I've 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 quips,9 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 Protheus; are you crept before us?
Pro.
Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.
Thu.
Ay, but I hope, Sir, that you love not here.
Pro.
Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
Thu.
Whom, Silvia?
-- 237 --
Pro.
Ay, Silvia, for your sake.
Thu.
I thank you for your own: now gentlemen,
Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.
SCENE III.
Enter Host, and Julia in boy's cloaths.
Host.
Now, my young guest, methinks, 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 musick.
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 heav'ns such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Is she kind, as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.1 note
Love doth to her Eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness,
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
-- 238 --
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
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.
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 have them always play but one
thing?
Jul.
I would always have One play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Sir Protheus, 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 nick.2 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.
-- 239 --
Pro.
Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu.
Where meet we?
Pro.
At St. Gregory's well.
Thu.
Farewel.
[Exeunt Thurio and musick.
SCENE IV.
Silvia above, at her window.
Pro.
Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil.
I thank you for your musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?
Pro.
One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil.
Sir Protheus, as I take it.
Pro.
Sir Protheus, 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 this,3 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,
Ev'n 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. [aside.]
'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried.
-- 240 --
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 with thy importunacy?
Pro.
I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil.
And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave,
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 thence,
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.
Jul. [aside.]
He heard not that.
Pro.
Madam, if that your heart be so obdurate,
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. [aside.]
If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.
Sil.
I'm very loath to be your idol, Sir;
But since your falshood shall become you well* note
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 Protheus and Silvia.
Jul.
Host, will you go?
Host.
By my hallidom, I was fast asleep.
Jul.
Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?
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 heaviest.
[Exeunt.
-- 241 --
SCENE V.
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, above at her window.
Sil.
Who calls?
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 impose,
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 and wise, remorseful, 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 dy'd;
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
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 heav'n and fortune still reward with plagues.
-- 242 --
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 grievances;* note
Which, since, I know, they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little 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.
Egl.
I will not fail your ladyship:
Good morrow, gentle lady.
Sil.
Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Launce with his Dog:
When a man's servant shall play the cur with him,
look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a
puppey, one that I sav'd 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 went 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
trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul
thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies!
I would have, as one should say, one that takes
upon him to be a dog† note indeed, to be, as it were, a dog
at all things. If I had no more wit than he, to take
-- 243 --
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 dogs, under the
Duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark)
a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt them. 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 dogs; 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 no more ado, but
whips me out of the chamber. How many masters
would do this for their servant? nay, I'll be sworn, I
have sat in the stocks for the puddings he hath stoll'n,
otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the
pillory for the 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 serv'd me, when I took my
leave of madam Silvia; 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
farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?
SCENE VII.
Enter Protheus 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'll do, Sir, what I can.
Pro.
I hope, thou wilt—How now, you whoreson peasant,
[To Launce.
Where have you been these two days loitering?
Laun.
Marry, Sir, I carry'd mistress Silvia the dog,
you bade me.
-- 244 --
Pro.
And what says she to my little jewel?
Laun.
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?
Laun.
No, indeed, she did not: here I have brought
him back again.
Pro.
What, didst thou offer her this from me?
Laun.
Ay, Sir; the other squirrel was stoll'n from
me by the hangman's boy 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.
Away, I say; stay'st thou to vex me here?
A slave, that, still an end, 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 yon 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 thou, 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 me.
Jul.
It seems, you lov'd not her, to leave her token:4
note
She's dead, belike.
Pro.
Not so: I think, she lives.
Jul.
Alas!
-- 245 --
Pro.
Why do'st thou cry, alas?
Jul.
I cannot chuse but pity her.
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 doat 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 give therewithal
This letter;—that's her chamber:—tell my lady,
I claim the promise for her heav'nly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
[Exit Protheus.
SCENE VIII.
Jul.
How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Protheus, 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 I am, unhappy messenger,
To plead for that, which I would not obtain;
To carry that, which I would have refus'd;5 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,
-- 246 --
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly,
As, heav'n it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter Silvia.
Gentlewoman, good day; I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
Sil.
What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul.
If you be she, I do intreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil.
From whom?
Jul.
From my master, Sir Protheus, Madam.
Sil.
Oh! he sends you for a picture?
Jul.
Ay, Madam.
Sil.
Ursula, bring my picture there.
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, may't please you to 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're stuft 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:
Tho' 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?
-- 247 --
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.
Sil.
Belike, she thinks, that Protheus 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 judgment, 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 lilly-tincture of her face,6 note
-- 248 --
That now she is become as black as I.
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 trim'd in Madam Julia's gown;
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
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-good,
For I did play a lamentable part,
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
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 beholden 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.
Farewel.
[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 much.
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 yellow.
If that be all the diff'rence in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine;
-- 249 --
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine is high.7 note
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respective 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 stead.8 note
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
