Speed.
3 Out.
Stand, Sir, and throw us what you have about
you; if not, we'll make you Sir, and rifle you.
Speed.
Sir, we are undone; these are the villains that all the
travellers fear so much.
Val.
My friends.
1 Out.
That's not so, Sir; we are your enemies.
2 Out.
Peace; we'll hear him.
3 Out.
Ay by my beard will we; for he is a proper man.
Val.
Then know that I have little 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.
-- 205 --
2 Out.
Whither travel you?
Val.
To Verona.
1 Out.
Whence came you?
Val.
From Milan.
3 Out.
Have you long sojourn'd there?
Val.
Some sixteen months, and longer might have staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1 Out.
What, were you banish'd thence?
Val.
I was.
2 Out.
For what offence?
Val.
For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage or base treachery.
1 Out.
Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so.
But were you banish'd for so small a fault?
Val.
I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
1 Out.
Have you the tongues?
Val.
My youthful travel therein made me happy,
Or else I often had been miserable.
3 Out.
By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,
This fellow were a King for our wild faction.
1 Out.
We'll have him. Sirs a word.
Speed.
Master, be one of them: it's an honourable kind of
thievery.
Val.
Peace, villain.
2 Out.
Tell us this; have you any thing to take to?
Val.
Nothing but my fortune.
3 Out.
Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
My self was from Verona banished,
For practicing to steal away a lady,
-- 206 --
An heir and neice ally'd unto the Duke.
2 Out.
And I from Mantua, for a gentleman
Whom in my mood I stabb'd unto the heart.
1 Out.
And I for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose; for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives;
And partly seeing you are beautify'd
With goodly shape, and by your own report
A linguist, and a man of such perfection
As we do in our quality much want.
2 Out.
Indeed because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore above the rest we parley to you;
Are you content to be our general?
To make a virtue of necessity,
And live as we do in the wilderness?
3 Out.
What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say ay, and be the captain of us all:
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander and our King.
1 Out.
But if thou scorn our courtesie, thou dy'st.
2 Out.
Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.
Val.
I take your offer, and will live with you,
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers.
3 Out.
No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And shew thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with our selves, shall rest at thy dispose.
[Exeunt.
-- 207 --
SCENE II.
Changes to Milan.
Enter Protheus.
Pro.
Already I've been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer:
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falshood to my friend:
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd.
And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.
Enter Thurio and Musicians.
Thu.
How now Sir Protheus, are you crept before us?
Pro.
Ay, gentle Thurio; for you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.
Thu.
Ay but I hope, Sir, that you love not here.
Pro.
Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
Thu.
Whom, Silvia?
Pro.
Ay, Silvia, for your sake.
Thu.
I thank you for your own: now gentlemen
Let's turn, and to it lustily a while.
-- 208 --
SCENE III.
Enter Host, and Julia in boy's cloaths.
Host.
Now my young guest, methinks you're melancholly:
I pray what is it?
Jul.
Marry, mine Host, because I cannot be merry.
Host.
Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where
you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.
Jul.
But shall I hear him speak?
Host.
Ay that you shall.
Jul.
That will be musick.
Host.
Hark, hark.
Jul.
Is he among these?
Host.
Ay; but peace, let's hear 'em.
SONG.
Who is Silvia? what is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair and wise is she,
The heav'n such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
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.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.
-- 209 --
Host.
How now? are you sadder than you were before? how
do you, man? the musick likes you not.
Jul.
You mistake; the musician likes me not.
Host.
Why, my pretty youth?
Jul.
He plays false, father.
Host.
How, out of tune on the strings?
Jul.
Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heartstrings.
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.
Jul.
Peace, stand aside, the company parts.
Pro.
Sir Thurio, fear not; I will so plead,
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.
Thu.
Where meet we?
Pro.
At Saint Gregory's well.
Thu.
Farewel.
[Ex. Thu. and Musick.
-- 210 --
SCENE IV.
Enter Silvia above.
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 ever this,
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 my self,
Ev'n for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro.
I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady,
But she is dead.
Jul. [Aside.]
'Twere false if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.
Sil.
Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend
Survives, to whom thy self art witness,
I am betroth'd: and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?
-- 211 --
Pro.
I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.
Sil.
And so suppose am I; for in his grave,
Assure thy self, my love is buried.
Pro.
Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Sil.
Go to thy lady's grave and call her thence,
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.
Jul. [Aside.]
He heard not that.
Pro.
Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
For since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow will I make true love.
Jul. [Aside.]
If 'twere a substance you would sure deceive it,
And make it but a shadow as I am.
Sil.
I'm very loath to be your idol, Sir;
But since your falshood shall become you well,
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.
[Exe. Pro. and Sil.
Jul.
Host, will you go?
Host.
By my hallidom I was fast asleep.
Jul.
Pray you where lies Sir Protheus?
Host.
Marry at my house: trust me, I think 'tis almost day.
Jul.
Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heavy one.
[Exeunt.
-- 212 --
SCENE V.
Enter Eglamour.
Egl.
This is the hour that madam Silvia
Entreated me to call and know her mind:
There's some great matter she'd employ me in.
Madam, madam!
Enter Silvia above.
Sil.
Who calls?
Egl.
Your servant and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil.
Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-morrow.
Egl.
As many, worthy lady, to your self:
According to your ladyship's impose,
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.
Sil.
Oh Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,)
Valiant and wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd;
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd.
Thy self hast lov'd, and I have heard thee say
No grief did come so near unto 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,
-- 213 --
I do desire thy worthy company;
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour;
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief,
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heav'n and fortune still reward with plagues.
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,
Recking as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?
Sil.
This evening coming.
Egl.
Where shall I meet you?
Sil.
At friar Patrick's cell;
Where I intend holy confession.
Egl.
I will not fail your ladyship:
Good-morrow, gentle lady.
Sil.
Good-morrow, kind Sir Eglamour.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Launce, with his dog.
&plquo;Laun.
&plquo;When a man's servant shall play the cur with him,
look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up a
puppy, one that I sav'd from drowning, when three or four of his
-- 214 --
blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him, even as
one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to
deliver him as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master;
and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps
me to her 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 no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber.
How many masters would do this for their servant? nay, I'll be
sworn I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stoll'n,
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 Silvia; did not I bid thee
still mark me, and do as I do? when didst thou see me heave
up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale?
didst thou ever see me do such a trick?&prquo;
-- 215 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Protheus and Julia.
Pro.
Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will imploy thee in some service presently.
Jul.
In what you please: I'll do, Sir, what I can.
Pro.
I hope thou wilt.—How now, you whore-son pesant,
Where have you been these two days loitering?
Laun.
Marry, Sir, I carry'd mistress Silvia the dog you bad me.
Pro.
And what says she to my little jewel?
Laun.
Marry, she says, your dog was a cur, and tells you,
currish thanks is good enough for such a present.
Pro.
But she receiv'd my dog?
Laun.
No indeed she did not: here have I brought him back
again.
Pro.
What, did'st thou offer her this from me?
Laun.
Ay Sir; the other squirrel was stoll'n from me by the
hangman's boy in the market-place; and then I offer'd her mine
own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the
gift the greater.
Pro.
Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight:
Away, I say; stay'st thou to vex me here?
A slave, that ev'ry day turns me to shame.
[Exit Laun.
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business;
(For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt:)
But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour,
Which, if my augury deceive me not,
Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth:
-- 216 --
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee;
Deliver it to Madam Silvia.
She lov'd me well, deliver'd it to me.
Jul.
It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token:
She's dead belike.
Pro.
Not so: I think she lives.
Jul.
Alas!
Pro.
Why do'st thou cry alas?
Jul.
I cannot chuse but pity her.
Pro.
Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
Jul.
Because methinks that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You doat on her that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry alas!
Pro.
Well, give her that ring, and give therewithal
This letter; that's her chamber: tell my lady,
I claim the promise for her heav'nly picture.
Your message done, hye home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
[Exit Pro.
SCENE VIII.
Jul.
How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Protheus, thou hast entertain'd
A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him when he parted from me,
-- 217 --
To bind him to remember my good will.
And now I am, unhappy messenger,
To plead for that which I would not obtain;
To carry that which I would have refus'd;
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 my self.
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly,
As, heav'n it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter Silvia.
Lady, good day; I pray you be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
Sil.
What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul.
If you be she, I do intreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil.
From whom?
Jul.
From my master Sir Protheus, Madam.
Sil.
Oh! he sends you for a picture?
Jul.
Ay, Madam.
Sil.
Ursula, bring my picture there.
Go, give your master this; tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul.
Madam, may't please you to peruse this letter.
Pardon me, Madam, I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the letter to your ladyship.
Sil.
I pray thee let me look on that again.
Jul.
It may not be; good Madam, pardon me.
Sil.
There, hold;
I will not look upon your master's lines,
-- 218 --
I know they're stufft with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths, which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.
Jul.
Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil.
The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Tho' his false finger have 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 her?
Jul.
Almost as well as I do know my self.
To think upon her woes, I do protest
That I have wept an hundred several times.
Sil.
Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her.
Jul.
I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.
Sil.
Is she not passing fair?
Jul.
She hath been fairer, Madam, than she is:
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you.
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.
Sil.
How tall was she?
Jul.
About my stature: for at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were plaid,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Julia's gown,
-- 219 --
Which served me as fit, by all mens judgments,
As if the garment had been made for me;
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep agood,
For I did play a lamentable part.
Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.
Sil.
She is beholden to thee gentle youth.
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!
I weep my self to think upon thy words.
Here youth, there is a purse; I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.
[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 it self!
Here is her picture; let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers.
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with my self too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow.
If that be all the diff'rence in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd perriwig.
Her eyes are grey as grass, and so are mine;
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine is high.
What should it be that he respects in her,
-- 220 --
But I can make respective in my self,
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.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
