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Val. Give him leave, madam: he is a kind of cameleon.
Thu. That bath 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.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?
Fal. My lord, I will be thankful
To any happy messenger from thence.
Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country
Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed.
Duke. Hath be not a son ?
Fal. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well de
The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well?
Fal. I knew him as myself; for from our
infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Quitting the sweet benefit of time,
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection;
Yet hath Sir Proteus, 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 all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Duke. Beshrew me, Sir, but, if he make
He is as worthy for an empress' love, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
[Exit DUKL Val. This is the gentleman, I told your lady. ship,
Had come along with me, but that his mistreat Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them pri. soners still.
Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,
How could he ses his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of
Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing whose worth makes other worthies nothing:
And I as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes,
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?
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 1 was wont :
Oh! but I love his lady too, too much;"
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,⚫
That thus without advice begin to love her?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my 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;
Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd ;
Nay, more, our marriage hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Deterinin'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 Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
Pro. Go on before; I shall enquire you
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use;
And then I'll presently attend you.
Val. Will you make haste?
Pro. I will.-
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 eye, or Valentinus' praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasouless, to reason thus ?
She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love:-
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
Speed. But shall she marry him? Laun. No.
SCENE V.-The same.-A Street.
Enter SPEED and LAUNCE.
Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to
Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always-that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; 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 fivepence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrab, how did thy master part with madain Julia ?
Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.
Speed. How then? Shall he marry her? Laun. No, neither.
She is alone.
Pro. Then let her alone.
Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine but lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.
Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all
Speed. What, are they broken?
Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.
Speed. What an ass art thou? I understand thee not.
Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst not? My staff understands me. Speed. What thou say'st?
Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll
SCENE VI-The same.-An Apartment în Bat qualify the fire's extreme rage, the Palace.
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
Provokes me to this threefold perjury.
Love bade me swear, and love bids me for-
O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there I leave to love, where I should love.
Julia lose, and Valentine I lose :
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julià, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend;
For love is still more precious than itself:
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair!
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used 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 proceed-
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!
[Exit. SCENE VII.-Verona.-A Room in JULIA'S
Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.
Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist
But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stoves,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtak 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,+
bet-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
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.
Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make re-
Jul. Oh! know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food?
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more a burns;
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thon 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
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,-
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts,
Are visibly character'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 Proteus.
Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long.
Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth:
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracies;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
Much less shall she, that bath love's wings to His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven fivs
Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you
come to him!
Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that
To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
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;
Jut. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots:
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your
Jul. That fits as well, as-" tell me, good my
"What compass will you wear your farthin-
Why, even that fashion thou best lik’st, Lucetta,
Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-
Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be -fz-
Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth
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 nanserly:
But tell me, wench, bow will the world repute
For undertaking so unstaid a journey ↑
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and
Jul. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey, when your coure,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withai.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
Luc. All these are servants to deceitful ma.
Jul. Base men, that use them to so base
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
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 stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
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
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest
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 be 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 ine publisher of this pretence. §
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is com-
Duke. Sir Valentine, whither 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.
Duke. Be they of much import?
Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My beakb, and happy being at your court.
↑ Tempted. ↑ Guessed.
Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a
I am to break with thee of some affairs,
That touch me near, wherein thou must be
"Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought
To match my friend, Sir Thurio, to my daugh-
Val, I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle-
is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
Duke. No, trust me: she is peevish, sullen,
Duke. There is a lady, Sir, in Milan here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought 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
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of their's myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged 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,
Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent
Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best
contents her :
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, f
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For sworn 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 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;
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a Flatter, and, praise, commend, extol their
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 her's,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like
I now am full resolved to take a wife,
And turn ber out to who will take her in: ' A
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your grace bave me to do
in this ?
Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels'
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ;
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man bath access by day to her.
Val. Why then I would resort to her by
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her
Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the
And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.
Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of
To cast up with a pair of anchoring books,
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should be. What's here ?
Silvia, this night I will enfranchise 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 buru the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder! overweening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates;
And think, my patience, more than thy desert,
is privilege for thy departure bence:
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
Val. And why not death, rather than living
To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
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 music in the nightingale ;...
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon:
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure bands 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, 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, breathe it in mine ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour. Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst mot help,
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou can'st 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;