Re-enter PANTHINO. Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go. Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto; And yet a thousand times it answers, no. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. Speed. Sir, your glove. Val. Not mine: my gloves are on. Val. Ha! let me see : ay give it me, it's mine:- Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia ! Vul. How now, sirrah? Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Silvia? Speed. She that your worship loves! Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? Speed. Is she not hard favored, sir? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favored. Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favor infinite. Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count. Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. Val. How esteemest thou me! I account of her beauty. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you nad mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going ungartered. Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed; I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease. Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you? Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :Peace, here she comes. Enter SILVIA. Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. Speed. O, give you good even! here's a million of manners. [Aside Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Speed. He should give her interest; and she gives it him. [Aside. Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter, Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant, 'tis very clerkly done. Val. Now, trust me, madam, it came hardly off; Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet, Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; Val. What means your ladyship? do you not Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ, Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request: Speed. You never saw her since she was de- And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. formed. Val. How long hath she been deformed? Speed. Ever since you loved her. Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful. Under a regimen. 1 Allhallowmas. Val. If it please me, madam! what then? As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter? Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself! Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. Val. To whom? Speed. To yourself: why, she woos you by a figure? Val. What figure? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me. 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. Why, she hath given you a letter. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. Val. I would it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well. For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. All this I speak in print; for in print I found it, Val. I have dined. - Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Verona. A room in Julia's House. Enter PROTEUS and JULIA. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. I must, where is no remedy. Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here take you this. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not; The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should: Exit JULIA. Julia, farewell. What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear; he is a stone, a very pebblestone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: This shoe is my father; -no this left shoe is my father; - no, no, this left shoe is my mother;- nay, that cannot be so neither ;-yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole; This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; A vengeance on't! there 'tis : now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand; this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog;--O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on: now come I to my mother, (0, that she could speak now!) like a woods woman;- well, I kiss her;-why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes; now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. Enter PANTHINO. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost: for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and in losing thy service, Why dost thou stop my mouth. Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pant. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide -Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pant. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. [Excunt. SCENE IV.- Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SED. Sil. Servant- Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knock'd him. Sil. Servant, you are sad." Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Val. Haply, I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I that I am not? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change color? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. than live in your air. Vul. 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. 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 he not a son! Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves The honor and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him as myself; for from our infancy We have conversed and spent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time, To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio. as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter PROTEUS. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! --Mistress, I beseech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favor. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. Val. Leave off discourse of disability:Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed ; Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Sil. That you are welcome! Pro. No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, sir Thurio, Go with me:-Once more, new servant, welcome: I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. [Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came ? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. Val. And how do yours? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now; I have done penance for conteinning love; sorrow. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the idol that you worship so? Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? Pro. 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 honor,To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favor 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 nothing; She is alone. Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine 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 inquire 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, [Exit VAL. Or as one nail by strength drives out another, Is it mine eye, or Valentinus praise, SCENE V. The same. A street. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear: But now I worship a celestial sun. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. 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 five-pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia? Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Laun. No. Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff, understands me. Speed. What thou say'st? If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; to myself am dearer than a friend; cannot now prove constant to myself, Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me! Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, but lean, and my staff understands me. one. Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun. 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. Laun. 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 has become a notable lover? Laun. I never knew him otherwise. Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. On further knowledge. How, with my honor, I may undertake Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in, ⚫ Tempting. • Intended. Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 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? Luc. What fashion, madain, 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 that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favor'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, 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 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. Then never dream on infamy, but go. I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 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: [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's | And thence she cannot be convey'd away. Palace. Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean [Exit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would cover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal : My duty pricks me on to utter that Which else no worldly good should draw from me. ■ Tempted. For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Enter VALENTINE. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast! Duke. Be they of much import? Duke. Nay, then, no matter; stay with me awhile. Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, for Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; |