Val. Now trust me, Madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? Val. No, Madam; so it stead you, I will write, Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel, Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet. [Aside. Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, Sir, at my request; I would have had them writ more movingly. And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. My master sues to her; and she hath taught her 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. Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figur、 Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, sne 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. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end. Val. I would it were no worse. "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: 0, be not li'e your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE UI.-VERONA. A Room in JULIA's House. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: [Giving a ring. Pro. Why, then, we'll make exchange; here, take you Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. [this. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips 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? Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for. Pro. Go; I come, I come: Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same. A Street. Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog. Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodi gious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Im. perial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourestnatured dog that lives: my mother weeping, 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 pebble-stone, 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 shew 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,-C 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 wood 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. Pan. 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 tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pan. 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 shouldst lose thy tongue. Pan. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide!-Why, man, if the river 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 knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. Val. Indeed, Madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Thu. So do counterfeits. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Val. Your folly. 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. Thu. How? Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, Madam; he is a kind of chameleon. Thu. That hath 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. l'al. 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. 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 excheq er of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your foltowers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news? Tal. My lord, I will be thankfu To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour 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; 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 this good, fle is as worthy for an empress' love, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. Well, Sir; this gentleman is come to me, With commendation from great potentates; And here he means to spend his time a while: I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth: Silvia, I speak to you; and you, Sir Thurio:For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it: I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit DUKE. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchised them Upon some other pawn for fealty. [still. Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners 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. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. Leave off discourse of disability :- Pro. No; that you are worthless. you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure.-[Exit Ser.] Come, Go with me :-Once more, new servant, welcome: [Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? 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, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Val. Sweet, except not any; "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 own; Is gone with her along; and I must after, Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd; Nay, more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Pro. Go on before; I shall inquire you forth: Pro. I will. [Exit VAL. Or as one nail by strength drives out another, Even as one heat another heat expels, 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, SCENE V.-The same. A Street. Enter SPEED and LAUNCE. [Exit. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am I reckon this always-that a man is not welcome. 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, 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. Speed. How then? Shall he marry her? Laun. No, neither. 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 but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one. 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. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear. But there I leave to love, where I should love. If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; I to myself am dearer than a friend; And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair I will forget that Julia is alive, Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead; Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. I cannot now prove constant to myself, [Exil SCENE VII. VERONA. A Room in JULIA's House. Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me! Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. By longing for that food so long a time. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 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 enamell'd stones, He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, And so by many winding nooks he strays, Till the last step have brought me to my love, Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. Of greater time than I shall shew 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 that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, 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 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 scandalised. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go Dot. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jui. Base men, that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth: His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; Mis tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him! 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 longing journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence: Come, answer not, but to it presently; I am impatient of my tarriance. \Exeunt. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while; 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, My duty pricks me on to utter that, Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, I know, you have determined to bestow her Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep; And oftentimes have purposed to forbid Sir Valentine her company, and my court: But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err, And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested. I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be convey'd away. Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean 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 he 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 me publisher of thus pretence. Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming. Enter VALENTINE. 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 health, and happy being at your court. [Exit Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while; I am to break with thee of some affairs, Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward And, where I thought the remnant of mine age I now am full resolved to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in: Val. What would your grace have me to do in s Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents Send her another; never give her o'er: [her: For scorn 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 to have you gone; For why, the fools are mad if left alone. Duke. But she I mean is promised by her friends Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by night. 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 at. Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? Duke. Then let me see thy cloak ; I'll get me one of such another length I Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. What letter is this same? What's here?" To Silvia!" [Reads. My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. Because myself do want my servants' fortune: 1 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:" Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Thank me for this, more than for all the favours Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse, Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news? Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are Pro. That thou art banish'd, O, that's the news; Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, [speak'st Val. No more; unless the next word that thou Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, She hath |