The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

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Valentine.

Out-laws.

Julia, a lady of Verona, beloved by Proteus.
Silvia, the duke's daughter, beloved by Valentine.
Lucetta, waiting-woman to Julia.

Servants, musicians.

Scene, Sometimes in Verona; sometimes in Milan; and on the frontiers of Mantua.

If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Enter Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

CEASE
to persuade, my loving Proteus;
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 with shapeless idleness.
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 Proteus, when thou, haply, seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy dan

ger,

If ever danger do environ-thee,
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.
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 swam the Hellespont.
Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the

boots.1

Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not.

Pro. Val.

What? 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;

(1) A humorous punishment at harvest-home feasts, &c.

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 chronicled 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
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 shipp'd.

Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.

At Milan, 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, farewell! [Exit Valentine.

Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends, to dignify them more; I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd 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.

Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'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 awhile away.

Speed. 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

Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep-telling her mind. Give her no token but stones; herd then, and I a sheep?

Pro. I do.

Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether
I wake or sleep.

for she's as hard as steel.

Pro. What, said she nothing?

Speed. No, not so much as-take this for thy pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'ds me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. Speed. This proves me still a sheep. Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore :and my master seeks not me: therefore, I am no I must go send some better messenger; sheep. I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post.

Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wreck;

Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa.

Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter

to Julia?

Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store

of muttons.

Speed. I.

me,

[Speed nods.

Pro. Nod, I? why, that's noddy." Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask if she did nod, and I say, I. Pro. And that set together, is-noddy. Speed. 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.

Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear! with you.

Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains.

Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. Garden of Julia's
house. Enter Julia and Lucetta.

would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love
Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Luc. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheed-
fully.

That every day with parles encounter me,
Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,
thy opinion, which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show 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.
Jid. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, 30.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
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 censures thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Luc. Then thus,-of many good I think him
best.

Jul. Your reason?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think hin 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 ach never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. Fire, that is closest kep', burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.
Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their
love.

Jul. I would, I knew his mind.
Luc.
Peruse this paper, madam.
Jul. To Julia,-Say, from whom?
Luc.
That the contents will show.
Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think,
from Proteus:

He would have given it you, but 1, being in the way,
(5) Talk,

(4) Given me a sixpence.
(6) Pass sentence.

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 othce of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.

There, take the paper, see it be return'd;
Or else return no more into my sight.

Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie:
You would be fingering 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!

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than Oh teful hands, to tear such loving words!

hate.

Jul. Will you be gone? Luc.

That you may ruminate. (Exit. Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. It were a shame to call her back again, And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. 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 humbled, kiss the rod ! How churlishly Ichid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here! How angrily 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!

So gingerly?

Luc.

Jul.

What is't you took up

Nothing. 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 rhyme. Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune: Give me a note: your ladyship can set

Jl. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light ole.

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?

Inc.
I cannot reach so high.
Jul. Let's see your song:-low 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?

Lac. 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 base.
Luc. Indeed, I bid the bases for Proteus.

(1) A matchmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy. 73) A term in music. (4) The tenor in music.

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.
And 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.
Look, here is writ-love-wounded Proteus :-
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly
heal'd;

And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice, or thrice, was Proteus 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,-
Pour forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
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.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, 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 sender 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 Proteus, your son, was meet; And did request me, to importune you, To let him spend his time no more at home,

(5) A challenge. (6) Bustle, stir. (7) Since. (8) Serious. (9) Litile consequence

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Accurately Printed from the Text ...