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ers still.

seech you,

with you.

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.

Val. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.
Sl. Who is that, servant ?

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 bither, 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. what 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. any father.

Val. Leave off discourse of disability:

Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
Enter the DUKE.

Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
What say you to a letter from your friends

Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Of mucli good news?

Sil. That you are welcome?
My lord, I will be thankful Pro.

That you are worthless. To any happy messenger from thence.

Enter Thurio. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman!

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, THURIO, and SPEED Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy Val. Now, tell me, low do all from whence you We have conversid, 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. (Exit 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 ? SI. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them, Pro. No, but she's an earthly paragon. ('pon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Call her divine.

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Pro. I will not flatter her.
Val. O! flatter me, for love delights in praises.

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 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.
Val. Not for the world. Why, man, she is

inine own;
And I as rich in liaving 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 ?
Val. Ay, and we are betroth’d; nay, more, 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 Proteus, 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 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, reasonless, to reason thus !
She's tair, 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 ;
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.

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?
Launce. No.
Speed. How then ? Shall he marry her?
Launce. No, neither.
Speed. What, are they broken?
Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish.

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 not.

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.

Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.

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 sny 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 potable lover?

Launce. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?

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, it thou wilt go with me to the alehouse : if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.

Speed. Why?

Launce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go? Speed. At thy service.


SCENE VI.-The Same. An Apartment in the Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, Palace.

As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, Enter PROTEUS.

But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;

Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;

burns. And even that power, which gave me first my The current, that with gentle murmur glides, oath,

Thou know'st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage; Provokes me to this threefold perjury :

But, when his fair course is not hindered, Love bad me swear, and love bids me forswear. He makes sweet music with the enarneld stones, O sweet-suggesting love! if thou hast sinn'd, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; At first I did adore a twinkling star,

And so by many winding nooks he strays But now I worship a celestial sun.

With willing sport to the wild ocean. Cnheedful vows may heedfully be broken;

Then, let me go, and hinder not my course. And he wants wit, that wants resolved will

I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, To learn his wit t exchange the bad for better. And make a pastime of each weary step, Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, Till the last step have brought me to my love ; Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.

A blessed soul doth in Elysium. I cannot leave to love, and yet I do ;

Luc. But in what habit will you go along? But there I leave to love, where I should love. Jul. Not like a woman, for I would prevent Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :

The loose encounters of lascivious men. If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;

Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds If I lose them, thus find I, by their loss,

As may beseem some well-reputed page. For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.

Luc. Why, then your ladyship must cut your I to myself am dearer than a friend,

hair. For love is still most precious in itself;

Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings, And Silvia, (witness heaven that made her air!) With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots: Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

To be fantastic may become a youth I will forget that Julia is alive,

Of greater time than I shall show to be. Remembering that my love to her is dead;

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,

breeches ? Aiming at Silvia, as a sweeter friend.

Jul. That fits as well, as—“Tell me, good my I cannot now prove constant to myself

lord, Without some treachery used to Valentine. What compass will you wear your farthingale ?": This night, he ineaneth with a corded ladder Why, even what fashion thou best lik’st, Lucetta. To climb celestial Silvia's chamber window;

Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, Myself in counsel, his competitor.

madam. Now, presently I'll give her father notice

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favoured. Of their disguising, and pretended flight;

Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine,

pin, For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter : Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.

What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! [E.rit. For undertaking so unstaid a journey?

I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. SCENE VII.–Verona. A Room in Julia's House. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go Enter Julia, and LUCETTA.

Jul. Nay, that I will not. Jul. Coupsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me:

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. And, e'en in kind love, I do conjure thee,

If Proteus like your journey, when you come, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

No matter who's displeas’d, when you are gone. Are visibly character'd and engravid,

I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. How, with my honour, I may undertake

A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
A journey to my loving Proteus.

And instances of infinite of love,
Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps,

Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect; Much less sball she, that hath love's wings to fly ; But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : And when the flight is made to one so dear,

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus.

His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; Jul. O! know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's | His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. food ?

Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come Pity the dearth that I have pined in,

to him! By longing for that food so long a time.

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not ibat Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,



[merged small][merged small][graphic][subsumed]


SCENE I.-Milan. An Ante-chamber in the Duke's And with a corded ladder fetch her down;

For which the youthful lover now is gone,

And this way comes he with it presently,
Enter Duke, Thurio, and PROTEUS.

Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile: But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
We have some secrets to confer about.-

That my discovery be not aimed at;

[E.cit ThuRIO. For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Now. tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Hath made me publisher of this pretence. Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis Duke. Upon mine honour he shall never know cover,

That I had any light from thee of this. The law of friendship bids me to conceal;

Pro. Adieu, my lord: sir Valentine is coming. But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am, My duty pricks me on to utter that,

Enter VALENTINE. Which else no worldly good should draw from me. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend, Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger This night intends to steal away your daughter : That stays to bear my letters to my friends, Myself am one made privy to the plot.

And I am going to deliver them.
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her

Duke. Be they of much import ?
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; Val. The tenor of them doth but signify
And should she thus be stol'n away from you, My health, and happy being at your court.
It would be much vexation to your age.

Duke. Nay, then no matter: stay with me awhile. Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose

I am to break with thee of some affairs To cross my friend in his intended drift,

That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought A pack of sorrows, which would press you down To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care,

match Which to requite, command me while I live. Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman This love of theirs myself have often seen,

Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Haply, when they have judg'd me fast asleep, Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid

Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? Sir Valentine her company, and my court;

Duke. No, trust me : she is peevish, sullen, froBut, fearing lest by jealous aim might err,

ward, And so unworthily disgrace the man,

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; (A rashness that I ever yet have shunned,)

Neither regarding that she is my child, I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find

Nor fearing me as if I were her father: That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Upon advice hath drawn my love from her; Kpowing that tender youth is soon suggested, And, where I thought the remnant of mine age I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,

Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, The key whereof myself have ever kept ;

I now am full resolv'd to take a wife, And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

And turn her out to who will take her in : Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean Then, let her beauty be her wedding-dower ; How he hur chamber-window will ascend,

For me and my possessions she esteems not.


Val. What would your grace have me to do in And here an engine fit for my proceeding ! this ?

l'll be so bold to break the seal for once. Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan here, Whom I affect; but she is rice, and coy,

· My thoughts do harbour with


Silvia nightly;

And slaves they are to me, that send them flying: And nought esteems my aged eloquence :

0! could their master come and go as lig!tly, Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court;

Himself would lodge, where senseless theyarelying. Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd,)

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them;

While I, their king, that thither them importune, How, and which way, I may bestow myself,

Do curse the To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

grace that with such grace hath bless'd

them, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not

Because myself do want my servants' fortune. words. Dunib jewels often, in their silent kind,

I curse myself, for they are sent by me, More than quick words do move a woman's mind.

That they should harbour where their lord should be." Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent

What's here? her.

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee :" l'al. A woman sometimes scorns what best con 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.tents her.

Why, Phaëton, (for thou art Merops' son,) Send her another; never give her 'o'er,

Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, For scorn at first makes after-love the more. And with thy daring folly burn the world? If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? But rather to beget more love in you :

Go, base intruder; over-weening slave : If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone,

Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.

And think my patience, more than thy desert, Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ;

Is privilege for thy departure hence. For. “ get you gone,” she doth not mean, "away." Thank me for this, more than for all the favours Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces;

Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee: Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' But if thou linger in my territories faces.

Longer than swiftest expedition That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,

Will give thee time to leave our royal court, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,

Begone : I will not hear thy vain excuse; And kept severely from resort of men,

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. That no man hath access by day to her.

(Exit Duke. Val. Wh;, then I would resort to her by night. Val. And why not death, rather than living tor Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept

ment? safe,

To die is to be banish'd from myself, That no man hath recourse to her by night.

And Silvia is myself : banish'd from her, Vai. What lets, but one may enter at her win Is self from self; a deadly banishment. dow !

What light is light, if Silvia be rot seen ?
Duke. Her chamber is aloft far from the ground, What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Unless it be, to think that she is by,
Without apparent hazard of his life.

And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Val. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, Except I be by Silvia in the night,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,

There is no music in the nightingale ;
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

There is no day for me to look upon.
Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, She is my essence; and I leave to be,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder. If I be not by her fair influence
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me

Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.

I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom :
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, Tarry I here, I but attend on death ;
That longs for every thing that he can come by. But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone.

Enter Proteus, and LAUNCE.
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Pro. Run, boy ; run, run, and seek him out. Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may Launce. So-ho! so-ho! bear it

Pro. What seest thou ? Under a cloak that is of any length.

Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the on's head, but 'tis a Valentine. turn?

Pro. Valentine ? Val. Ay, my good lord.

Val. No. Duke.

Then, let me see thy cloak : Pro. Who then ? his spirit ? I'll get me one of such another length.

l'al. Neither. Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? Launce. Can nothing speak ? master, shall 1
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.-

strike? What letter is this same? What's here!-" To Pro. Whom wouidst thou strike ? Silvia ?"

Launce. Nothing.

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