« PreviousContinue »
SCENE 1.-Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.
Val. What dost thou know?
Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) wellSpeed. Sir, your glove.
Not mine; my gloves are on. Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is her favour infinite. but one.
Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the Val. Ha ! let me see : ay, give it me, it's mine.- other out of all count. Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine !
Val. How painted ? and how out of count? Ah Silvia ! Silvia !
Speed. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, Speed. Madam Silvia ! madam Silvia !
that no man 'counts of her beauty. Val. How now, sirrah ?
Val. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
beauty. Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her ?
Speed. You never saw her since she was deSpeed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. form’d. Val. Well, you'll still be too forward.
Val. How long hath she been deform'd ? Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too Speed. Ever since you loved her. slow.
Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and Val. Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know madam still I see her beautiful. Silvia ?
Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. She that your worship loves ?
Val. Why? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love ? Speed. Because love is blind. O! that you had
Speed. Marry, by these special marks. First, you || mine eyes; or your own eyes had the lights they have learn'd, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, were wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus like a mal-content; to relish a love-song, like a for going ungartered ! robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had Val. What should I see then ? the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that deformity; for he, being in love, could not see to had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes || garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing ; to speak to put on your hose. puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last when you laugh’d, to crow like a cock; when you morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed. I fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you thank you, you swinged me for my love, which look'd sadly, it was for want of money; and now makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. Speed. I would you were set, so your affection
Val. Are all these things perceived in me? would cease.
Val. Last night she enjoin'd me to write some Val. Without me? they cannot.
lines to one she loves. Speed. Without you ? nay, that's certain; for, Speed. And have you ? without you were so simple, none else would: but Val. I have. you are so without these follies, that these follies Speed. Are they not lamely writ? are within you, and shine through you like the Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them.-water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you, Peace! here she comes. but is a physician to comment on your malady.
Enter SILVIA. Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia ?
Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet ! supper ?
Now will he interpret to her. Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morSpeed. Why, sir, I know her not.
Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, Speed. O! 'give ye good even : here's a million and yet know'st her not?
of manners. Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir ?
Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thouVal. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd.
Speed. He should give her interest, and she gives And yet take this again ;—and yet I thank you, it him.
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet. Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ;
Val. What means your ladyship? do you pot Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
like it? But for my duty to your ladyship.
Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very quaintly writ, Sil. I thank you, gentle servant. 'Tis very clerkly But since unwillingly, take them again. done.
Nay, take them.
Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request, I writ at random, very doubtfully.
But I will none of them: they are for you. Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much I would have had them writ more movingly. pains ?
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Val. No, madam : so it stead you, I will write, Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over; Please you command, a thousand times as much. And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. And yet,
Val. If it please me, madam ; what then? Sil. A pretty period. Well, I guess the sequel : Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: And yet I will not name it ;—and yet I care not ; And so good-morrow, servant.
Speed. O jest ! unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
write the letter ?
Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.
Val. To do what?
Speed. To yourself. Why, she wooes you by a figure.
Val. What figure ?
Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?
Val. No, believe me.
Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir: but did you perceive her earnest ?
Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end.
Val. I would it were no worse !
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 re Nan, our maid: I am the dog ;-no, the dog is himply;
self, and I am the dog.-0! the dog is me, and I • Or fearing else some messenger, that might her am myself: ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; mind discover,
“ Father, your blessing :" now should not the shoe * Herself hath taught her love himself to write speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my unto her lover.".
father; well, he weeps on.
Now come I to my All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. mother, (0, that she could speak now!) like a wood Why muse you, sir ? 'tis dinner-time.
woman :-well, I kiss her; why there 'tis; here's Val. I have dined.
my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir : though the came my sister; mark the moan she makes : now, the leon love can feed on the air, I am one that am dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a nourish'd by my victuals, and would fain have meat. word, but see how I lay the dust with my tears. ()! be not like your mistress : be moved, be moved.
Enter PANTHINO. [Exeunt.
Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard: thy master SCENE II.-Verona. A Room in Julia's House. is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars.
What's the matter ? why weep'st thou, man ? Enter PROTEUS, and Julia.
Away, ass; you'll lose the tide, if you tarry any Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
longer. Jul. I must, where is no remedy.
Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for Pro. When possibly I can, I will return.
it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner. Pant. What's the unkindest tide ? Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
Launce. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog.
[Giving a ring. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; Pro. Why then, we'll make exchange : here, || and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in take you this.
losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy ser
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; vice,– Why dost thou stop my mouth? And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day,
Launce. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue ? The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Launce. In thy tale. Torment me for my love's forgetfulness.
Pant. In thy tail ? My father stays my coming; answer not.
Launce. Lose the tied, and the voyage, and the The tide is now : nay, not thy tide of tears; master, and the service, and the tide. Why, man, That tide will stay me longer than I should. if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my
[Exit Julia. tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the Julia, farewell.—What! gone without a word ? boat with my sighs. Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
Pant. Come; come, away, man: I was sent to For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. call thee.
Launce. Sir, call me what thou dar’st.
Pant. Wilt thou go?
Launce. Well, I will go.
Go; I come, I come.Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
SCENE IV.-Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace. [Exeunt.
Enter VALENTINE, Silvia Thurio, and SPEED.
Thu. So do counterfeits. pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a
Val. So do you. dog; a Jew would have wept to have seen our Thu. What seem I that I am not? parting : why, my grapdam having no eyes, look Val. Wise. you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll Thu. What instance of the contrary? show you the manner of it. This shoe is iny father; Val. Your folly. -no, this left shoe is my father :-no, no, this left 'Thu. And how quote you my folly ? shoe is my mother ;-nay, that cannot be so nei Val. I quote it in your jerkin. ther :-yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. this. my father. A vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, T'] . How ? sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio ? do you change white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is colour ?
Val. Give him leave, madam : he is a kind of Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoncameleon.
Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being, blood, than live in your air.
blind, Val. You have said, sir.
How could he see his way to seek out you? Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.
Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Val. I know it well, sir : you always end ere you Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. begin.
Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself: Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and Upon a homely object love can wink. quickly shot off.
Sil. Have done, have done. Here comes the Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. gentleman,
[Exit Thurio. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !-Mistress, I belooks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.
Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer Val. Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. that they live by your bare words.
Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes To have a look of such a worthy mistress. my father.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability.
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Of mucli good news?
Sil. That you are welcome?
That you are worthless.
Enter Thurio. man ?
Thu. Madam, my lord, your father, would speak Val. Ay, my good lord; I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
Sil. I wait upon his pleasure: come, sir Thurio, And not without desert so well reputed.
Go with me.-Once more, new servant, welcome : Duke. Hath he not a son ?
I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs ; Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves When you have done, we look to hear from you. The honour and regard of such a father.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. Duke. You know him well?
(Exeunt Silvia, Tuurio, and SPEED Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy Val, Now, tell me, how do all from whence you We have convers'd, and spent our hours together:
came? And though myself have been an idle truant,
Pro. Your friends are well, and have them Omitting the sweet benefit of time
much commended. To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Val. And how do yours? Yet hath sir Proteus, for that's his name,
I left them all in health. Made use and fair advantage of his days:
Val. How does your lady, and how thrives your His years are young, but his experience old;
love ? His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you : And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: He is complete in feature, and in mind,
I have done penance for contemning love; With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good, With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, He is as worthy for an empress' love,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, With commendation from great potentates ;
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. And here he means to spend his time a-while. O, gentle Proteus ! love's a mighty lord, I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. There is no woe to his correction,
Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth. Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth. Silvia, I speak to you; and you, sir Thurio : Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it.
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, I'll send him hither to you presently. [E.cit DUKE. Upon the very naked name of love.
Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye. Had come along with me, but that his mistress Was this the idol that you worship so? Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
Val. Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint? Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them, Pro. No, but she's an earthly paragon. Cpon some other pawn for fealty.
Val. Call her divine.
Pro. I will not flatter her.
Pro. When I was sick you gave me bitter pills,
divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
Pro. Except my mistress.
Val. Sweet, except not any,
Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too : She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear my lady's train, lest 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 braggardism is this?
Val. Pardon me, Proteus : all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies no
thing. She is alone.
Pro. Then, let her alone.
gone with her along, and I must after, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
Pro. But she loves you ?
Pro. Go on before ; I shall enquire you forth.
Val. Will you make haste ?
Enter SPEED, and LAUNCE. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan.
Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always—that a man is never undone, till he be hang’d; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome.
Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse 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 ?
Launce. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.
Speed. But shall she marry him?
Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
Launce. Marry, thus : when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.
Speed. What an ass art thou. I understand thee pot.
Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not. My staff understands me.
Speed. What thou say'st ?
Launce. Ay, and what I do too: look thee; I'll but lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.
Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ?
Launce. Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will ; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.
Speed. The conclusion is, then, that it will.
Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.
Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say’st thou, that my master is become a notable lover?
Launce. I never knew him otherwise.
Launce. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak'st
Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.
Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love, if thou wilt go with me to the alehouse : if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
Launce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go? Specd. At thy service.