SCENE V.
A street.
Enter Speed and Launce.
Speed.
Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to
7 noteMilan.
Laun.
Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I
am not welcome. I reckon this always—that a
man is never undone, till he be hang'd; nor never
welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid,
and the hostess say, welcome.
Speed.
Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale-house
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?
Laun.
Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they
parted very fairly in jest.
Speed.
But shall she marry him?
Laun.
No.
Speed.
How then? shall he marry her?
Laun.
No, neither.
Speed.
What, are they broken?
Laun.
No, they are both as whole as a fish.
Speed.
Why then how stands the matter with them?
Laun.
Marry, thus; when it stands well with him,
it stands well with her.
Speed.
What an ass art thou? I understand thee
not.
Laun.
What a block art thou, that thou canst not?
8 note
My staff understands me.
-- 161 --
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.
Speed.
Than how?
Laun.
A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to
be.
Speed.
Why, thou whorson ass, thou mistakest me.
Laun.
Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy
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 ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a
Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
Speed.
Why?
Laun.
Because thou hast not so much charity in
thee, as to go to the ale-house9 note
with a Christian:
wilt thou go?
Speed.
At thy service.
[Exeunt.
-- 162 --
1 noteSCENE VI.
Enter Protheus.
Pro.
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 bad me swear, and love bids me forswear:
2 note
O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd,
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;
-- 163 --
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, this find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend;
For love is still more precious in itself:
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair!
Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembring 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 us'd to Valentine:—
This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window;
3 note
Myself in counsel, his competitor:
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and 4 note
pretended flight;
Who, all enrag'd, 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,
5 noteAs thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!
[Exit.
-- 164 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
