SCENE VII.-Verona. A'Room in JULIA's House. Enter JULIA and Lucetta. Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays Luc. But in what habit will you go along? 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 breeches ? Jul. That fits as well, as-" tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale ?" Why, even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me 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 go not. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, 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 loving2 journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come; answer not, but to it presently: I am impatient of my tarriance. ACT III. SCENE I.-Milan. An Ante-chamber in the DUKE's Myself am one made privy to the plot. Palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile: We have some secrets to confer about.-Exit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, 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 me. 1 wild in f. e. : [Exeunt I know you have determin'd to bestow her Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Sir Valentine her company, and my court; Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. P. Adieu, my lord: sir Valentine is coming.[Exit. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Duke. Be they of much import? Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then no matter: stay with me awhile. I am to break with thee of some affairs That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your grace win her fancy to him? Duke. No, trust me: she is peevish, sullen, froward, 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 hers Upon advice hath drawn my love from her; And, where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, I now am full resolv'd to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in : Then, let her beauty be her wedding-dower; For me and my possessions she esteems not. Send her another; never give her o'er, Val. Why, then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. Val. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that. Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone. How shall I best convey the ladder thither? Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length. Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? Then, let me see thy cloak: I'll get me one of such another length. Val. Why any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.- 66 [Ladder and letter fall out.3 I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ; And slaves they are to me, that send them flying : O! could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that thither them importune, Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them, Duke. There is a lady in Milano2 here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words. 1 in his cloak: not in f. e. 2 a lady, sir, in Milan here : in f. e. Val. And why not death, rather than living torment? 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. She is my essence; and I leave to be, If I be not by her fair influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: Tarry I here, I but attend on death; But fly I hence, I fly away from life. Enter PROTEUS and LAUnce. Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out. Pro. What seest thou? Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, 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 my ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour. Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lamentest. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst 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; Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. The time now serves not to expostulate : Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate, And, ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy love affairs. As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me. Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north-gate. head, but 't is a Valentine. Pro. Valentine? Val. No. Pro. Who then? his spirit? Val. Neither. Pro. What then? Val. Nothing. Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. [Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Launce. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave; but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love; Launce. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me, nor Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike? Launce. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you, Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, word. a Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me !— What is your news? Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'd: O! that is the news, Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, who 't is I love; and yet 't is a woman: but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 't is a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a waterspaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the cat-log [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, "She can fetch and carry." Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, "She can milk;" look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Launce. There, and saint Nicholas be thy speed! Speed. Imprimis, "She can milk.” Launce. Ay, that she can. Speed. Item, "She brews good ale." Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. Speed. Item, "She can sew." Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so ? Launce. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? Speed. Item, "She can wash and scour." Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and scour'd. Speed. Item, "She can spin." Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. Speed. Item, "She hath many nameless virtues." Launce. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues ; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. Speed. Here follow her vices. Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, "She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath." Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet mouth." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, "She doth talk in her sleep." Launce. It's no matter for that, so she slip not in her talk. Speed. Item, "She is slow in words." Launce. O villain! that set this down among her vices? To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue : I pray thee, out with 't, and place it for her chief virtue. Speed. Item, "She is proud." Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. Item, "She hath no teeth.” Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed. Item, "She is curst.” Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. Item, "She will often praise her liquor.” Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not. I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, "She is too liberal.” Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not, for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot Ï help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, "She hath more hair than wit, and more faults faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults." Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. Speed. Item, "She hath more hair than wit,”— Launce. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt: the hair, that covers the wit, is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What's next? Speed. "And more faults than hairs,' 1 running: not in f. e. 2 some in f. e. Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-letters! [Exit, running. Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit. SCENE II. The Same. An Apartment in the DUKE'S Palace. Enter DUKE and THURIO. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you, Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most; Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure How now, sir Proteus ! Is your countryman, Pro. Gone, my good lord. Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace, Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. I do. my lord. Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will. Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio? Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she 'll think that it is spoke in hate. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: Therefore, it must, with circumstance, be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. Duke. Then, you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: T is an ill office for a gentleman, Especially, against his very friend. Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him : Therefore, the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it, By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him. But say, this wean1 her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, That may discover strict integrity : Lest it should ravel and be good to none, You must provide to bottom it on me; Which must be done, by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine. For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, After your dire-lamenting elegies, And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Visit by night your lady's chamber window Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. To sort some gentlemen well-skill'd in music. I have a sonnet that will serve the turn To give the onset to thy good advice. Duke. About it, gentlemen. Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, And afterward determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it: I will pardon you. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.—A Forest, between Milan and Verona. 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. Speed. Sir, we are undone. These are the villains That all the travellers do 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 wealth to lose. A man I am cross'd with adversity : My riches are these poor habiliments, You take the sum and substance that I have. Val. To Verona. 1 Out. Whence came you? Val. From Milan. 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there? 1 Out. Have you the tongues? Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or else I had been often 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 is an honourable kind of thievery. [They talk apart.2 2 Out. Tell us this: have you any thing to take to? 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, 2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, 1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have As we do in our quality much want stay'd, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 2 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; 1 Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. |