Protheus.
Val.
Cease to persuade, my loving Protheus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:
Wer'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 sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth in shapeless idleness.14Q0031
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein;
Even as I would, when I to love begin.
Pro.
Wilt thou be gone? sweet Valentine, adieu!
Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, see'st
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)
-- 4 --
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beads-man, Valentine.
Val.
And on a love-book pray for my success. note
Pro.
Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee.
Val.
That's on some shallow story of deep love,
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
Pro.
That's a deep story of a deeper love;
For he was more than over shoes in love.
Val.
'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swom the Hellespont.
Pro.
Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
Val.
No, I will not; for it boots thee not.
Pro.
What?
Val.
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.
Pro.
So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
Val.
So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll prove.
Pro.
'Tis love you cavil at; I am not love.
Val.
Love is your master; for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicl'd for wise.
Pro.
Yet writers say, As in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells; so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
Val.
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
-- 5 --
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 ship'd.
Pro.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
Val.
Sweet Protheus, no; now let us take our leave:
At Milan note let me hear from thee by letters,
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
Pro.
All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
Val.
As much to you at home! and so, farewel.
[Exit Valentine.
Pro.
He after honour hunts, I after love:
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more;
I leave myself note, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd note 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, bluntly.
Spe.
Sir Protheus! 'save you, sir: Saw you my master?
Pro.
But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.
Spe.
Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already;
And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him,
Pro.
Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,
An' if the shepherd be a while away.
Spe.
You conclude, that my master is a shepherd then, and I a sheep? note
-- 6 --
Pro.
I do.
Spe.
Why then my horns are his horns, wheher I wake, or sleep.
Pro.
A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
Spe.
This proves me still a sheep.
Pro.
True; and thy master a shepherd.
Spe.
Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
Pro.
It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another.
Spe.
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.
Pro.
The sheep for fodder follows note the shepherd, the
shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages
follow'st thy master, thy master for wages follows not
thee: therefore thou art a sheep.
Spe.
Such another proof will make me cry, ba.
Pro.
But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia?
Spe.
Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to
her, a lac'd mutton; and she, a lac'd mutton, gave me,
a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
Pro.
Here's too small a pasture for such store of
muttons.
Spe.
If the ground be overcharg'd, you were best
stick her.
Pro.
Nay, in that you are a-stray; 'twere best pound
you.
Spe.
Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for
carrying your letter.
Pro.
You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold. note
Spe.
From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
-- 7 --
Pro.
But what said she? [Speed nods.] Did she nod?
Spe.
I.
Pro.
Nod? I? why, that's noddy,
Spe.
You mistook, sir; I said note, she did nod: and you
ask me, if she did nod; and I said note, I.
Pro.
And that, set together, is—noddy.
Spe.
Now you have taken the pains to set it together,
take it for your pains.
Pro.
No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.
Spe.
Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you.
Pro.
Why, sir, how do you bear with me?
Spe.
Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having
nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains.
Pro.
Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
Spe.
And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
Pro.
Come, come, open the matter in brief; What
said she?
Spe.
Open your purse; that the money, and the
matter, may be both at once note deliver'd.
Pro.
Well, sir, here &dagger2; is for your pains: What said
she?
Spe.
Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
Pro.
Why, could'st thou perceive so much from her?
Spe.
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 note.
Give her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steel.
Pro.
What, said she nothing?
Spe.
No, not so much as—take this for thy pains.
To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have tester'd note
me; in requital whereof, henceforth note carry your letters note
-- 8 --
yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.
[Exit.
Pro.
Go, go, begone, note to save your ship from wreck;
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore:—
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 Julia, and Lucetta.
Jul.
But say, Lucetta, (now we are note alone)
Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love?
Luc.
Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully.
Jul.
Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
Luc.
'Please you repeat their names, I'll shew my mind,
According to my shallow simple skill.
Jul.
What think'st thou of the fair sir Eglamour?
Luc.
As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;
But, were I you, he never should be mine.
Jul.
What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc.
Well, of his wealth; but, of himself, so, so.
Jul.
What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?
Luc.
Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
Jul.
How now? what means this passion at his name?
Luc.
Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame,
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
Jul.
Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?
Luc.
Then thus—of many good I think him best.
-- 9 --
Jul.
Your reason?
Luc.
I have no other but a woman's reason;
I think him so, because note I think him so.
Jul.
And would'st thou have me cast my love on him?
Luc.
Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
Jul.
Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me.
Luc.
Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves you.
Jul.
His little speaking shews his love but small.
Luc.
Fire, that is note closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul.
They do not love, that do not shew their love.
Luc.
O, they love least, that let men know their love.
Jul.
I would, I knew his mind.
Luc.
Peruse this &dagger2; paper, madam.
Jul.
To Julia,—Say, from whom?
Luc.
That the contents will shew.
Jul.
Say, say; who gave it thee?
Luc.
Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Protheus:
He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray.
Jul.
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.
There, take the &dagger2; paper, see it be return'd;
Or else return no more into my sight.
Luc.
To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
Jul.
Will you be gone?
&clquo;Luc.
&clquo;that note you may ruminate.&crquo;
[Exit.
Jul.
And yet I would I had o'er-look'd the letter.
It were a shame, to call her back again,
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
-- 10 --
What 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 humbl'd, 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 enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past:—
What ho! Lucetta!
Re-enter Lucetta.
Luc.
What would your ladyship?
Jul.
Is it near dinner-time?
Luc.
I would, it were;
That you might kill your stomach on your meat,
And not upon your maid.
Jul.
What is't, that you
Took up so gingerly?
Luc.
Nothing.
Jul.
Why didst thou stoop then?
Luc.
To take a paper up, that I let fall.
Jul.
And is that paper nothing?
Luc.
Nothing concerning me.
Jul.
Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
Luc.
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
Jul.
Some love of yours hath writ to you in rime.
Luc.
That I might sing it, madam, to a tune:
-- 11 --
Give me a note; your ladyship can set.
Jul.
As little by such toys as may be possible:
Best sing it to the tune of, Light o' love.
Luc.
It is too heavy for so light a tune.
Jul.
Heavy? belike, it hath some burden then.
Luc.
Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.
Jul.
And why not you?
Luc.
I cannot reach so high.
Jul.
Let's see your &dagger2; song: Why, how now, minion?
Luc.
Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.
Jul.
You do not?
Luc.
No, madam, it is too sharp.
Jul.
You, minion, are too saucy.
Luc.
Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
Jul.
The mean is drown'd with your unruly note base.
Luc.
Indeed, I bid the base for Protheus.14Q0032
Jul.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.—
Here is a coil with protestation!—
[looking over the Letter; tears, and throws it away.
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fing'ring them, to anger me.
Luc.
She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd,
To be so anger'd with another letter.
[Exit.
Jul.
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.
[picking up the Pieces.
-- 12 --
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 Protheus:—
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, 'till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus † I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus 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 Protheus, passionate Protheus,
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 upon another;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Re-enter Lucetta.
Luc.
Madam,
Dinner is ready, note and your father stays.
Jul.
Well, let us go.
Luc.
What, shall these papers lye like tell-tales here?
Jul.
If you respect them, best to take them up.
Luc.
Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
Yet here they shall not lye, for catching cold.
Jul.
I see, you have a month's mind to them. note
Luc.
Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
-- 13 --
Jul.
Come, come, will't please you go?
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same. A Room in Antonio's House.
Enter Antonio, and Panthino.
Ant.
Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
Pan.
'Twas of his nephew Protheus, your son.
Ant.
Why, what of him?
Pan.
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 Protheus, your son, was meet;
And did request me, to impórtune 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.
Ant.
Nor need'st thou much impórtune 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 try'd and tutor'd note in the world:
Experience is by industry atchiev'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then, tell me, whither note were I best to send him?
Pan.
I think, your lordship is not ignorant,
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.
-- 14 --
Ant.
I know it well.
Pan.
'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 blood.
Ant.
I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd:
And, that thou may'st 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.
Pan.
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.
Ant.
Good company; with them shall Protheus go:
And, in good time, now will we break with him.
Enter Protheus, at a Distance, reading.
Pro.
Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! sweet Julia!
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!
Ant.
How now? what letter are you reading there?
Pro.
May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations sent from Valentine;
Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.
Ant.
Lend me the letter; let me see what news.
Pro.
There is no news, my lord; but that he writes
How happily he lives, how well belov'd,
And daily graced by the emperor;
-- 15 --
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
Ant.
And how stand you affected to his wish?
Pro.
As one relying on your lordship's will,
And not depending on his friendly wish.
Ant.
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 resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentino note 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.
Pro.
My lord, I cannot be so soon provided;
Please you, deliberate a day or two.
Ant.
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.
Pro.
Thus have I shun'd the fire, for fear of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd:
I fear'd to shew 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 shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!
Re-enter Panthino.
Pan.
Sir Protheus, your father note calls for you;
-- 16 --
He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go.
Pro.
Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto;
And yet a thousand times it answers, no.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Valentine, Speed following.
Spe.
Sir, your † glove.
Val.
Not mine; my gloves are on.
Spe.
Why, then this may be yours; for this is but one.
Val.
Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:—
Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine!
Ah Silvia! Silvia!
Spe.
Madam Silvia! madam Silvia!
Val.
How now, sirrah?
Spe.
She is not within hearing, sir.
Val.
Why, sir, who bad you call her?
Spe.
Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.
Val.
Well, you'll still be too forward.
Spe.
And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
Val.
Go to, sir: tell me, do you know madam Silvia?
Spe.
She that your worship loves?
Val.
Why, how know you that I am in love?
Spe.
Marry, by these special marks; First, you
have learn'd, like sir Protheus, 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
bury'd her note grandame; to fast, like one that takes
-- 17 --
diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak
puling, like a beggar at hollowmass: You were wont,
when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock; when you
walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted,
it was presently after dinner; when you look'd sadly,
it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphos'd
with a mistress; that, when I look on you, I can
hardly think you my master.
Val.
Are all these things perceiv'd in me?
Spe.
They are all perceiv'd without you.
Val.
Without me? they cannot.
Spe.
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?
Spe.
She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
Val.
Hast thou observ'd that? even she I mean.
Spe.
Why, sir, I know her not.
Val.
Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know'st her not?
Spe.
Is she not hard-favour'd, sir?
Val.
Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd.
Spe.
Sir, I know that well enough.
Val.
What dost thou know?
Spe.
That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favour'd.
Val.
I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her
favour infinite.
Spe.
That's because the one is painted, and the
other out of all count.
-- 18 --
Val.
How painted? and how out of count?
Spe.
Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that
no man counts of her beauty.
Val.
How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty.
Spe.
You never saw her since she was deform'd.
Val.
How long hath she been deform'd?
Spe.
Ever since you lov'd her.
Val.
I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still
I see her beautiful.
Spe.
If you love her, you cannot see her.
Val.
Why?
Spe.
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 Protheus for going ungarter'd!
Val.
What should I see then?
Spe.
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.
Spe.
True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank
you, you swing'd me for my love; which makes me the
bolder to chide you for yours.
Val.
In conclusion, I stand affected to her.
Spe.
I would you were set, so your affection would cease.
Val.
Last night she enjoin'd me to write some lines
to one she loves.
Spe.
And have you?
Val.
I have,
Spe.
Are they not lamely writ?
Val.
No, boy; but as well as I can do them:—
-- 19 --
Peace, here she comes.
Enter Silvia.
&clquo;Spe.
&clquo;O excellent motion! o exceeding puppet!
now will he interpret to her.&crquo;
Val.
Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows.
&clquo;Spe.
&clquo;O, gi' ye good even! here's a million of manners.&crquo;
Sil.
Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
&clquo;Spe.
&clquo;He note should give her interest; and she gives it
him.&crquo;
Val.
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.
[gives the Letter.
Sil.
I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.
Val.
Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For, being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random note, very doubtfully.
Sil.
Perchance, you think too much of so much pains.
Val.
No, madam; so it stead you, I will write,
Please you command, a thousand times as much.
And yet,—
Sil.
A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;
And yet I will not name 't:—and yet I care not:—
And yet take this † again:—and yet I thank you;
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
&clquo;Spe.
&clquo;And yet you will; and yet another yet.&crquo;
Val.
What means your ladyship? do you not like it?
Sil.
Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ:
But, since unwillingly, take them again;
Nay, take † them.
Val.
Madam, they are for you.
-- 20 --
Sil.
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.
Val.
Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
Sil.
And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over:
And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val.
If it please me, madam? what then?
Sil.
Why, if it please you, take it for your labour;
And so, good morrow, servant.
[Exit Silvia.
Spe.
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weather-cock on a steeple!
My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent devise! 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?
Spe.
Nay, I was riming; 'tis you that have the reason.
Val.
To do what?
Spe.
To be a spokesman from madam Silvia.
Val.
To whom?
Spe.
To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.
Val.
What figure?
Spe.
By a letter, I should say.
Val.
Why, she hath not writ to me.
Spe.
What need she, when she hath made you write
to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?
Val.
No, believe me.
Spe.
No believing you indeed, sir: But did you perceive
her earnest?
Val.
She gave me none, except an angry word.
Spe.
Why, she hath given you a letter.
-- 21 --
Val.
That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Spe.
And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an note end.
Val.
I would, it were no worse.
Spe.
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.
Val.
I have din'd.
Spe.
Ay, but hearken, sir; though the cameleon love
can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my
victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like
your mistress; be moved, be moved.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Verona. Room in Julia's House.
Enter Protheus, and Julia.
Pro.
Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul.
I must, where is no remedy.
Pro.
When possibly I can, I will return.
Jul.
If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this &dagger2; remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
[giving a Ring.
Pro.
Why, then we'll make exchange; here, take you &dagger2; 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
-- 22 --
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, farewel.—What, gone without a word?
[Exit Julia.
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
Enter Panthino.
Pan.
Sir Protheus, you are stay'd for.
Pro.
Go, I come: note—
Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same. A Street.
Enter Launce, with a Dog in a String.
Lau.
Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping;
all the kind of the Launces have this very fault:
I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious son,
and am going with sir Protheus to the imperial's court.
I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natur'd 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 pibble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a
dog; a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting;
why, my grandame, having no eyes, look you,
wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show note 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
-- 23 --
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 lilly, 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,—o, 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 note,
that she could speak now, like a wode woman note!14Q0033—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.
Pan.
Launce! away, away, aboard; thy master is
ship'd, and thou art to post after with oars: What's the
matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you'll lose
the tide, if you tarry any longer.
Lau.
It is no matter, if the ty'd were lost; for it is
the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.
Pan.
What's the unkindest tide?
Lau.
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?
Lau.
For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pan.
Where should I lose my tongue?
Lau.
In thy tale.
-- 24 --
Pan.
In thy tail?
Lau.
Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master,14Q0034
and the service?—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.
Pan.
Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
Lau.
Sir, call me what thou dar'st.
Pan.
Wilt thou go?
Lau.
Well, I will go.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Silvia, Valentine, Thurio, and Speed.
Sil.
Servant,—
Val.
Mistress?
[they converse apart.
Spe.
Master, sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val.
Ay, boy, it's for love.
Spe.
Not of you.
Val.
Of my mistress then.
Spe.
'Twere good, you knock'd him.
Sil.
Servant, you are sad.
Val.
Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu.
Seem you that you are not?
Val.
Haply, I do.
Thu.
So do counterfeits.
Val.
So do you.
Thu.
What seem I, that I am not?
Val.
Wise.
Thu.
What instance of the contrary?
Val.
Your folly.
Thu.
And how quote you my folly?
Val.
I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu.
My jerkin is a doublet.
-- 25 --
Val.
Well then, I'll double your folly.
Thu.
How? note
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, attended.
Duk.
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 note messenger from thence.
Duk.
Know you note don Antonio, your countryman?
-- 26 --
Val.
Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.
Duk.
Hath he not a son?
Val.
Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
Duk.
You know him well?
Val.
I knew note 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 cloath mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath sir Protheus (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
Come note all the praises that I now bestow)
He is compleat in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Duk.
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 a while:
I think, 'tis no unwelcome note news to you.
Val.
Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.
Duk.
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'll send him hither to you presently.
[Exit.
-- 27 --
Val.
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.
Sil.
Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Val.
Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still.
Sil.
Nay, then he should be blind; And, being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you?
Val.
Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
Thu.
They say, that love hath not an eye at all.
Val.
To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;
Upon a homely object love can wink.
Sil.
Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.
Enter Protheus.
Val.
Welcome, dear Protheus!—Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome note with some special favour.
Sil.
His worth is warrant for his welcome hither note;
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 note.
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, sir?
Pro.
That you are worthless.
Enter an Attendant.14Q0035
-- 28 --
Att.
Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
Sil.
I wait upon his pleasure.—Come, sir Thurio,
Go you with me:—Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
When you have done, we look to hear note from you.
Pro.
We'll both attend upon your ladyship.
[Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, Speed, and Att.
Val.
Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?
Pro.
Your friends are well, and have them much commended.
Val.
And how do yours?
Pro.
I left them all in health.
Val.
How does your lady? and how thrives your love?
Pro.
My tales of love were wont to weary you;
I know, you joy not in a love-discourse.
Val.
Ay, Protheus, 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 sorrow.
O gentle Protheus, love's mighty lord;
And hath so humbl'd 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?
-- 29 --
Pro.
No; but she is an earthly paragon.
Val.
Call her divine.
Pro.
I will not flatter her.
Val.
O, flatter me; for love delights in praise. note
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.
Pro.
Except my mistress.
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 dignify'd with this high honour,—
To bear my lady's train; lest note 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 bragadism is this?
Val.
Pardon me, Protheus: all I can is nothing
To her whose worth makes note other worthies nothing;
She is alone—
Pro.
Why, then let her alone.
Val.
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 note pure gold.
Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou see'st me doat upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes,
-- 30 --
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, and we are betroth'd;
Nay, more, my Protheus, 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 Protheus, 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 disembarque
Some necessaries that I needs must use,
And then I'll presently attend on you.
Val.
Will you make haste?
Pro.
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 own, or note Valentino's note praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus?
She's 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;
-- 31 --
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I doat on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzl'd note my note reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check 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, meeting.
Spe.
Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. note14Q0036
Lau.
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 pay'd, and the hostess say, welcome.
Spe.
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?
Lau.
Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted
very fairly in jest.
Spe.
But shall she marry him?
Lau.
No.
Spe.
How then? shall he marry her?
Lau.
No, neither.
Spe.
What, are they broken?
Lau.
No, they are both as whole as a fish.
Spe.
Why then, how stands the matter with them?
Lau.
Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her.
-- 32 --
Spe.
What an ass art thou? I understand thee not.
Lau.
What a block art thou, that thou can'st not?
my staff understands me.
Spe.
What thou say'st?
Lau.
Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean,
and my staff understands me.
Spe. note
It stands under thee, indeed.
Lau.
Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.
Spe.
But, tell me true, will't be a match?
Lau.
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.
Spe.
The conclusion is then, that it will.
Lau.
Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but
by a parable.
Spe.
'Tis well, that I get it so. But Launce, how say'st
thou, that my master is become a notable lover?
Lau.
I never knew him otherwise.
Spe.
Than how?
Lau.
A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Spe.
Why, thou whorson ass, thou mistak'st me.
Lau.
Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.
Spe.
I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
Lau.
Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn
himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house,
so; note if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not
worth the name of a christian.
Spe.
Why?
Lau.
Because thou hast not so much charity in thee
as to go to the ale with note a christian: Wilt thou go?
Spe.
At thy service.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
The same. A Room in the Palace.
-- 33 --
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:
O sweet suggesting note love, if thou hast sin'd,14Q0037
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 prefer'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there note 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 note 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)
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,
-- 34 --
Without some treachery us'd 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 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,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this note drift!
[Exit.
SCENE VII.
Verona. A Room in Julia's House.
Enter Julia, and Lucetta.
Jul.
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 charácter'd and engrav'd,—
To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Protheus.
Luc.
Alas, the way is wearisome and long.
Jul.
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 Protheus.
Luc.
Better forbear, 'till Protheus make return.
Jul.
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.
-- 35 --
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
Luc.
I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire;
But qualify the fire's extream rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul.
The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns:
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stop'd, impatiently doth rage;
But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musick with th' enamel'd 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.
Luc.
But in what habit will you go along?
Jul.
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.
Luc.
Why, then your ladyship must cut your hair.
Jul.
No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots:
To be fantastick, may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall shew to be.
Luc.
What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
-- 36 --
Jul.
That fits as well, as, Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?—
Why, e'en what fashion thou best lik'st note, Lucetta.
Luc.
You must needs have them with a cod-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 unstay'd a journey?
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc.
If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.
Jul.
Nay, that I will not.
Luc.
Then never dream on infamy, but go:
If Protheus like your journey, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone;
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. note
Jul.
That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances note of infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.
Luc.
All these are servants to deceitful men.
Jul.
Base men, that use them to so base effect!
But truer stars did govern Protheus' 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.
Luc.
Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him!
Jul.
Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong,
To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
-- 37 --
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 note not, but to it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Milan. Anti-room of the Palace.
Enter Duke, Protheus, and Thurio.
Duk.
Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;
We have some secrets to confer about.—
[Exit Thurio.
Now, tell me, Protheus, what's your will with me?
Pro.
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 determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And, should she thus be stoln away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age:
-- 38 --
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.
Duk.
Protheus, 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
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 shun'd)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that note thou may'st 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.
Pro.
Know, noble lord, they have devis'd 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.
Duk.
Upon mine honour, he shall never know
-- 39 --
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro.
Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit Protheus.
Enter Valentine.
Duk.
Sir Valentine, whither note 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.
Duk.
Be they of much import?
Val.
The tenour of them doth but signify
My health, and happy being at your court.
Duk.
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?
Duk.
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 resolv'd to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
-- 40 --
For me, and my possessions, she esteems not.
Val.
What would your grace have me to do in this?
Duk.
There is a lady, sir, in Milan here note,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought note 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 chang'd)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
Val.
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.
Duk.
But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
Val.
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 note 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 note tongue he cannot win a woman.
Duk.
But she I mean, is promis'd 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.
Val.
Why, then I would resort to her by night.
-- 41 --
Duk.
Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val.
What lets, but one may enter at her window?
Duk.
Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground;
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.
Val.
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.
Duk.
Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
Val.
When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.
Duk.
This very night; for love is like a child,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.
Val.
By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
Duk.
But hark thee; I will go to her alone,
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
Val.
It will be light, my lord; that you may bear it
Under a cloak, that is of any length.
Duk.
A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
Val.
Ay, my good lord.
Duk.
Then let me see thy cloak;
I'll get me one of such another length.
Val.
Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
Duk.
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:
-- 42 --
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 thither them impórtune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blest 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 note be.
What's here?
Silvia, this night I will enfranchize 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! over-weening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates;
And think, my patience, more than thy desert,
Is priviledge 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 lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit Duke.
Val.
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,
-- 43 --
Is self from self; A deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be, to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no musick in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon:
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.
Enter Protheus, and Launce.
Pro.
Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Lau.
So-ho! so-ho!
Pro.
What see'st thou?
Lau.
Him we go to find; there's not a hair on's head,
but 'tis a Valentine.
Pro.
Valentine?
Val.
No.
Pro.
Who then? his spirit?
Val.
Neither.
Pro.
What then?
Val.
Nothing.
Lau.
Can nothing speak?—Master, shall I strike?
Pro.
Whom would'st note thou strike?
Lau.
Nothing.
Pro.
Villain, forbear.
Lau.
Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you.
-- 44 --
Pro.
Sirra, note I say, forbear.—Friend Valentine, a word.
Val.
My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news,
So much of bad already hath possest them.
Pro.
Then in dumb silence will I bury mine;
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.
Val.
Is Silvia dead?
Pro.
No, Valentine.
Val.
No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia:—
Hath she forsworn me?
Pro.
No, Valentine.
Val.
No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.—
What is your news?
Lau.
Sir, there is a proclamation, that you are vanish'd.
Pro.
That thou art banish'd, o, that is the news,
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val.
O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?
Pro.
Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
-- 45 --
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.
Val.
No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st
Have some malignant power upon my life:
If so, I pray thee, breath it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.
Pro.
Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life:
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts:
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:
Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs:
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.
Val.
I pray thee, Launce, an if thou see'st my boy,
Bid him make haste and meet me at the north-gate.
Pro.
Go, sirra, note find him out:—Come, Valentine.
Val.
O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!
[Exeunt Valentine, and Protheus.
Lau.
I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have
the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave: but
that's all one, if he be but one knave.14Q0038 He lives not
now, that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love;
but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me: nor
who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman: but what
-- 46 --
woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid:
yet 'tis not a maid; for she hath had gossips:
yet 'tis a maid; for she is her master's maid, and
serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a
water-spaniel,—which is much in a bare christian:
here is [pulling out a Paper.] the cat-log of her conditions. note
Imprimis, She can fetch and carry: Why, a
horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but
only carry; therefore, is she note better than a jade. Item,
She can milk, look you; A sweet note virtue in a maid with
clean hands.
Enter Speed.
Spe.
How now, signior Launce? what news with
your mastership?
Lau.
With my master's ship? note why, it is at sea.
Spe.
Well, your old vice still; mistake the word:
What news then in your paper?
Lau.
The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.
Spe.
Why, man, how black?
Lau.
Why, as black as ink.
Spe.
Let me read them.
Lau.
Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.
Spe.
Thou ly'st, I can.
Lau.
I will try thee: Tell me this, Who begot thee?
Spe.
Marry, the son of my grandfather.
Lau.
O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy
grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read.
Spe.
Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper.
Lau.
There &dagger2;; And saint Nicholas be thy speed!
Spe.
Imprimis, She can milk.
[reads.
Lau.
Ay, that she can.
Spe.
Item, She brews good ale.
-- 47 --
Lau.
And thereof comes the proverb,—Blessing o'
your heart, you brew good ale.
Spe.
Item, She can sow.
Lau.
That's as much as to say, Can she so?
Spe.
Item, She can knit.
Lau.
What need a man care for a stock with a wench,
when she can knit him a stock?
Spe.
Item, She can wash and scour.
Lau.
A special virtue; for then she need not to be
wash'd and scour'd.
Spe.
Item, She can spin.
Lau.
Then may I set the world on wheels, when she
can spin for her living.
Spe.
Item, She hath many nameless virtues.
Lau.
That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that,
indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no
names.
Spe.
Here follow note her vices.
Lau.
Close at the heels of her virtues.
Spe.
Item, She is not to be kiss'd fasting, in respect of
her breath.
Lau.
Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast.
Read on.
Spe.
Item, She hath a sweet mouth.
Lau.
That makes amends for her sour breath.
Spe.
Item, She doth talk in her sleep.
Lau.
It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.
Spe.
Item, She is slow in words.
Lau.
O villain note, that set this note down among her vices!
To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue:—I pray
thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.
Spe.
Item, She is proud.
-- 48 --
Lau.
Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and
cannot be ta'en from her.
Spe.
Item, She hath no teeth.
Lau.
I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.
Spe.
Item, She is curst.
Lau.
Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
Spe.
Item, She will often praise her liquor.
Lau.
If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not,
I will; for good things should be prais'd.
Spe.
Item, She is too liberal.
Lau.
Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ down
she is slow of: of her purse she shall not; for that I'll
keep shut: now, of another thing she may; and that
cannot I help. Well, proceed.
Spe.
Item, She hath more hair note than wit, and more
faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.
Lau.
Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and
not mine, twice or thrice in that last note article: Rehearse
that once more.
Spe.
Item, She hath more hair than wit,—
Lau.
More hair than wit,—it may be; I'll prove
it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore
it is more than the salt: the hair, that covers the wit,
is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less.
What's next?
Spe.
—and more faults than hairs,—
Lau.
That's monstrous; O, that that were out!
Spe.
—and more wealth than faults.
Lau.
Why, that word makes the faults gracious.
Well, I'll have her: And if it be a match, as nothing
is impossible,—
Spe.
What then?
-- 49 --
Lau.
Why, then will I tell thee,—that thy master
stays for thee at the north gate.
Spe.
For me?
Lau.
For thee! ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for
a better man than thee.
Spe.
And must I go to him?
Lau.
Thou must run to him; for thou hast stay'd so
long, that going will scarce serve the turn.
Spe.
Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your
love-letters!
[Exit.
Lau.
Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter;
An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself
into secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The same. A Room in the same.
Enter Duke, and Thurio; Protheus behind.
Duk.
Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love you,
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
Thu.
Since his exíle she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.
Duk.
This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice; which, with an hour's heat,
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form:
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.—
How now, sir Protheus? is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?
Pro.
Gone, my good lord.
Duk.
My daughter takes his going grievously. note
Pro.
A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
-- 50 --
Duk.
So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee
(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert)
Makes me the better note to confer with thee.
Pro.
Longer than I prove loyal note to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace note.
Duk.
Thou know'st, how willingly I would effect
The match between sir Thurio and my daughter:
Pro.
I do, my lord.
Duk.
And also, I do note think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.
Pro.
She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duk.
Ay, and perversly she persevers so.
What might we do to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?
Pro.
The best way is, to slander Valentine
With falshood, cowardice, and poor descent;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duk.
Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate.
Pro.
Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth note as his friend.
Duk.
Then you must undertake to slander him.
Pro.
And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do:
'Tis an ill office for a gentleman;
Especially, against his very friend.
Duk.
Where your good word cannot advantage him,
Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend.
Pro.
You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,
By ought that I can speak in his dispraise,
-- 51 --
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed14Q0039 her love from Valentine,
It follows not, that she will love sir Thurio.
Thu.
Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me:
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise note sir Valentine.
Duk.
And, Protheus, we dare trust you in this kind;
Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant, shall you have access,
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you:
Where you may temper her by your persuasion,
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.
Pro.
As much as I can do, I will effect:—
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rimes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duk.
Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Pro.
Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
Write 'till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity:
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
-- 52 --
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance note on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
With some sweet concert: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
Duk.
This discipline shows thou hast been in love.
Thu.
And thy advice this night I'll put in practice:
Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently,
To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in musick:
I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,
To give the onset to thy good advice.
Duk.
About it, gentlemen.
Pro.
We'll wait upon your grace, 'till after supper;
And afterward determine our proceedings.
Duk.
Even now about it; I will pardon you.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Frontiers of Mantua. A Forest.
Enter certain Out-laws.
1. O.
Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.
2. O.
If there be ten, shrink note not, but down with 'em.
Enter Valentine, and Speed.
3. O.
Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you;
If not, we'll make you sit, note and riffle you.14Q0040
Spe.
O, sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.
Val.
My friends,—
-- 53 --
1. O.
That's not so, sir; we are your enemies.
2. O.
Peace, peace; we'll hear him.
3. O.
Ay, by my beard, will we;
For he's a proper man.
Val.
Then know, that I have little wealth note 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. O.
Whither note travel you?
Val.
To Verona.
1. O.
And whence came you?
Val.
From Milan.
3. O.
Have you long sojourned there?
Val.
Some sixteen months; and longer might have stay'd,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1. O.
What, were you banish'd thence?
Val.
I was.
2. O.
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. O.
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.
2. O.
Have you the tongues?
Val.
My youthful travel therein made me happy;
Or else I often had been miserable note.
3. O.
By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,
This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1. O.
We'll have him: Sirs, a word.
[talk apart.
-- 54 --
Spe.
Master, be one of them;
It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val.
Peace, villain.
2. O.
Tell us this, Have you any thing note to take to?
Val.
Nothing, but my fortune.
3. O.
Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near ally'd note unto the duke.
2. O.
And I from Mantua, for a gentleman
Who, in note my mood, I stab'd unto the heart.
1. O.
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. O.
Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parly to you:
Are you content to be our general;
To make a virtue of necessity,
And live, as we do, in this wilderness? note
3. O.
What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consórt?
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. O.
But, if thou scorn our courtesy, thou dy'st.
2. O.
Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.
Val.
I take your offer, and will live with you;
-- 55 --
Provided, that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers.
3. O.
No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And show note thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest note at thy dispose.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Milan. Court of the Palace.
Enter Protheus.
Pro.
Already I've note 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,
(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.
-- 56 --
Thu.
Who? note Silvia?
Pro.
Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.
Thu.
I thank you, for your own.—Now, gentlemen,
Let's tune note, and to it lustily a while.
Enter Host, at a Distance; with Julia, apparel'd like a Boy.
Host.
Now, my young guest! methinks, you're allicholly;
I pray you, why is note 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!
[Musick plays.
Jul.
Is he among these?
Host.
Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.
SONG.
1
Who is Silvia? what is she,
that all our swains commend her?
holy, fair, and wise is she;
the heaven such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
2.
Is she kind, as she is fair?
for beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,
to help him of his blindness;
and, being help'd, inhabits there.
3.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
-- 57 --
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 note 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 spight.
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.
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.
[Musick ceases.
Jul.
Peace! stand aside, the company parts.
Pro.
Sir Thurio, fear not you; note I will so plead,
-- 58 --
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu.
Where meet we?
Pro.
At saint Gregory's well.
Thu.
Farewel.
[Exeunt Thurio, and Musick.
Silvia appears 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 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.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;'Twere false, if I should speak it;&crquo;
&clquo;For, I am sure, she is not buried.&crquo;
Sil.
Say, that she be: yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
-- 59 --
I am betroth'd; And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importúnacy?
Pro.
I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil.
And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave 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 sepúlcher thine.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;He heard not that.&crquo;
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.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;If 'twere a substance, you would sure deceive it,&crquo;
&clquo;And make it but a shadow, as I am.&crquo;
Sil.
I am very loth to be your idol, sir:
But, since your falshood shall become you well
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, from above.
Jul.
Host, will you go?
Host.
By my halydom, 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
-- 60 --
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest.
[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!
Enter Silvia, above.
Sil.
Who calls?
Egl.
Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's commands.
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 abhors note:
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever note 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,
-- 61 --
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 rewards note 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 grievances;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?
Sil.
This evening coming on.
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 IV.
The same. Silvia's Anti-chamber.
Enter Launce, with his Dog.
Lau.
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 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
-- 62 --
precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to
deliver him,14Q0041 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
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 dogs, under the duke's
table; he had not been there (bless the mark!) a
pissing while, 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 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 me no more ado, but whips me
out of the chamber: How many masters would do this
for his note servant? nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the
stocks for puddings he hath stoln, 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 serv'd me, when I took my leave of madam Julia 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
-- 63 --
water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou
ever see me do such a trick?
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 note, what I can.
Pro.
I hope, thou wilt.—How now, you whorson peasant?
Where have you been these two days loitering?
Lau.
Marry, sir, I carry'd mistress Silvia the dog you
bad me.
Pro.
And what says she to my little jewel?
Lau.
Marry, she says, your dog was a note cur; and tells
you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.
Pro.
But she receiv'd my dog?
Lau.
No, indeed, did she not; here † have I brought
him back again.
Pro.
What, didst thou offer her this from me?
Lau.
Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stoln from me
by the hangman's boy note 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?—
[Exit Launce.
A slave, that, still an end, turns me to shame.—
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,
-- 64 --
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore, know thou, note for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this &dagger2; 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 note her token:
She is dead, belike?
Pro.
Not so; I think, she lives.
Jul.
Alas!
Pro.
Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul.
I cannot choose
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 her therewithal
This &dagger2; 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 Protheus.
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;
-- 65 --
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'd;
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.
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 entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil.
From whom?
Jul.
My master; from sir note Protheus, madam.
Sil.
O, he sends you for a picture; does he not?
Jul.
Ay, madam.
Sil.
Ursula, bring my picture there.—
[Picture brought.
Go, give your master this &dagger2;: tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul.
Madam, wilt please you to peruse this letter?—
Pardon me, madam; I have, unadvis'd,
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not;
This &dagger2; 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.
-- 66 --
Sil.
There, hold.
[giving back the first Letter.
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 note 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 prophan'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 note her?
Jul.
Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept a 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 masque away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lilly tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.
Sil.
How tall was she?
Jul.
About my stature: for, at pentecost,
-- 67 --
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 judgment,
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 beholding to thee, gentle youth:—
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!—
I weep myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is &dagger2; my purse; note 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 tyre, 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 difference in his love,
-- 68 --
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig:
Her eyes are grey as glass; note and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low; and mine's as high 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 worship'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
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.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The same. An Abbey.
Enter Eglamour.
Egl.
The sun begins to gild the western sky;
And now it is about the very hour,
That Silvia, at friar Patrick's note cell, should meet me:
She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time;
So much they spur their expedition.
Enter Silvia.
See, where she comes:—Lady, a happy evening!
Sil.
Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour,
Out at the postern by the abbey wall;
I fear, I am attended by some spies.
-- 69 --
Egl.
Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;
If we recover that, we're sure enough.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Thurio, Protheus, and Julia.
Thu.
Sir Protheus, what says Silvia to my suit?
Pro.
O, sir, I find her milder than she was;
But yet she takes exceptions at your person.
Thu.
What, that my leg's too long?
Pro.
No; that it is too little.
Thu.
I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.
Pro.
But love will not be spur'd to what it loaths.
Thu.
What says she to my face?
Pro.
She says, it is a fair one.
Thu.
Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is black.
Pro.
But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;'Tis note true,14Q0042 such pearls as put out ladies' eyes;
&clquo;For I had rather wink, than look on them.&crquo;
Thu.
How likes she my discourse?
Pro.
Ill, when you talk of war.
&clquo;Thu.
&clquo;But well, when I discourse of love, and peace?&crquo;
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;But better, indeed, when you do hold your peace.&crquo;
Thu.
What says she to my valour?
Pro.
O, sir, she makes
No doubt of that.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.&crquo;
Thu.
What says she to my birth?
Pro.
That you are well deriv'd.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;True; from a gentleman, to a fool.&crquo;
Thu.
Considers she my possessions?
Pro.
O, ay; and pities them.
-- 70 --
Thu.
Wherefore?
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;That such an ass should owe them.&crquo;
Pro.
That they are out by lease.
Jul.
Here comes the duke.
Enter Duke.
Duk.
How now, sir Protheus? how now, Thurio?
Which of you saw note sir note Eglamour of late?
Thu.
Not I.
Pro.
Nor I.
Duk.
Saw you my daughter?
Pro.
Neither.
Duk.
Why, then she's fled unto the peasant note Valentine;
And Eglamour is in her company.
'Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well; and guess'd, that it was she;
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it:
Besides, she did intend confession
At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not:
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain foot
That leads toward Mantua, whither note they are fled:
Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
[Exit.
Thu.
Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
That flies her fortune when it note follows her:
I'll after; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless Silvia.
[Exit.
Pro.
And I will follow, more for Silvia's love,
Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.
[Exit.
Jul.
And I will follow, more to cross that love,
-- 71 --
Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest.
Shouts. Enter Out-laws, with Silvia.
1. O.
Come, come;
Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil.
A thousand more mischances than this one
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
2. O.
Come, Bring her away.
1. O.
Where is the gentleman that was with her?
3. O.
Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us;
But Moses, and Valerius, follow him.
Go thou with her to the west end of the wood,
There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled;
The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape.
[Exeunt.
1. O.
Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave:
Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,
And will not use a woman lawlesly.
Sil.
O Valentine, this I endure for thee!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The same. Another Part of it.
Enter Valentine.
Val.
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopl'd towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
-- 72 --
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy fórlorn swain!
What hallowing, and what stir, is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger in chace:
They love me well; yet I have much to do,
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine; who's this comes here?
Enter Protheus, Silvia, and Julia.
Pro.
Madam, this service I have done for you,
(Though you respect not ought note your servant doth)
To hazard life, and rescue you from him,
That would have forc'd your honour, and your love:
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
&clquo;Val.
&clquo;How like a dream is this, I see, and hear!&crquo;
&clquo;Love, lend me patience to forbear a while.&crquo;
Sil.
O miserable, unhappy, that I am!
Pro.
Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;
But, by my coming, I have made you happy.
Sil.
By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy.
&clquo;Jul.
&clquo;And me, when he approacheth to your presence.&crquo;
Sil.
Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Protheus rescue me.
O, heaven be judge, how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul;
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I do detest false perjur'd Protheus:
Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.
Pro.
What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
-- 73 --
Would I not undergo for one calm look?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd,
When women cannot love where they're belov'd!
Sil.
When Protheus cannot love where he's belov'd:
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury, to love me note.
Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two,
And that's far worse than none; better have none
Than plural faith, which is too much by one:
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!
Pro.
In love,
Who respects friend?
Sil.
All men but Protheus.
Pro.
Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
Can no way change you to a milder form,
I'll woo you note like a soldier, at arm's end;
And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you.
Sil.
O heaven!
Pro.
I'll force thee yield to my desire.
Val.
Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch;
Thou friend of an ill fashion.
Pro.
Valentine!
Val.
Thou common friend, that's without faith, or love;
(For such is a friend now) treacherous note man,
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me: Now I dare not say,
I have one friend alive; thou would'st disprove me:
Who should be trusted now, note when one's right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Protheus,
I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,
-- 74 --
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest: O time accurst note!
'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst!
Pro.
My shame, and guilt, confounds note me.—
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender't here; I do as truly suffer,
As e'er I did commit.
Val.
Then I am pay'd;
And once again I do receive thee honest:—
Who by repentance is not satisfy'd,
Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd;
By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd:—
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All, that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.
Jul.
O me unhappy!
[faints.
Pro.
Look to the boy.
Val.
Why, boy! why, wag! how now? what is the matter?
Look up; speak.
Jul.
O good sir, my master charg'd me
To deliver a ring to madam Silvia;
Which, out of my neglect, was never done.
Pro.
Where is that ring, boy?
Jul.
Here 'tis; this &dagger2; is it.
Pro.
How! let me see:
Why, this note is the ring I gave to Julia.
Jul.
O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook;
This † is the ring you sent to Silvia.
Pro.
But, how note cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart,
I gave this unto Julia.
Jul.
And Julia herself did give it me;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
-- 75 --
Pro.
How! Julia?
Jul.
Behold † her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd them deeply in her heart:
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root?
O Protheus, let this habit make thee blush;
Be thou asham'd, that I have took upon me
Such an immodest rayment; if shame live
In a disguise of love:
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Women to change their shapes, than men their minds.
Pro.
Than men their minds! 'tis true: O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all sins note:
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins:
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
More fresh in Julia's, with a constant eye?
Val.
Come, come, a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close;
'Twere pity, two such friends should be long note foes.
Jul.
Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.
Pro.
And I mine.
[embracing.
Shouts; and Enter Outlaws, with Duke, and Thurio.
Out.
A prize, a prize, a prize!
Val.
Forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke:—
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
The banish'd Valentine.
Duk.
Sir Valentine!
Thu.
Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
Val.
Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
Come not within the measure of my wrath:
-- 76 --
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Milan shall not behold note thee: Here she stands,
Take but possession of her with a touch;
I dare thee but to breath upon my love.
Thu.
Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not:
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
Duk.
The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.—
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress' love:
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again;
Plead a new state in thy unrival'd note merit,
To which I thus subscribe,—Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd;
Take thou thy † Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her.
Val.
I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
Duk.
I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be.
Val.
These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities;
Forgive them what they have committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their exíle:
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
Duk.
Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and thee:
Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts.
-- 77 --
Come, let us go; we will include note all jars
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity note.
Val.
And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
With our discourse to make your grace to smile:
What think you of this page, my lord?
Duk.
I think, the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.
Val.
I warrant you, my lord; more grace than boy.
Duk.
What mean you by that saying?
Val.
'Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder, what hath fortuned.—
Come, Protheus; 'tis your penance, but to hear
The story of your loves discovered:
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
[Exeunt.
