[15] And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd: Pant. Sir Protheus, your father calls for you; ACT II. SCENE I. Changes to Milan. 25 is but one. Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine: Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia ! Speed. She's not within hearing, sir. 30 35 [slow. 40 45 50 Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learn'd, like sir Protheus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-ong, like a Robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet'; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Halowmas'. You were wont, when you laugh'd, to 55 crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamor phos'd with a mistress, that, when I look on you, can hardly think you my master. Val. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? [supper? Speed. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir? Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd. Val. What dost thou know? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) wellfavour'd. Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour 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 esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty. Speed. You never saw her since she was deform'd. Va'. How long hath she been deform'd? 'That is, That is, allowance. 2 To take diet was the phrase for being under a regimen. about the feast of All-Saints, when the poor people in Staffordshire, and probably in Warwickshire, go from parish to parish a souling as they call it; i. e. begging and puling (or singing small) for soul-cakes, or any good thing to make them merry. This custom seeins a remnant of Popish superstition to pray for departed souls, particularly those of friends. 3 Fal. 25 Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing 10 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. my Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last 15 morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. bed; Specd. True, sir; I was in love with I thank you, you swing'd me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide yours. you for Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set, and your affection 20 so would cease. Val. Last night she enjoin'd me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you? L'al. 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. 25 Speed. Oh, excellent motion'! Oh, exceeding 30 puppet! now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. Speed. Oh! 'give ye good even! here's a million of manners. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant', to you two thousand. Speed. He should give her interest; and she gives it him. 35 Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter 40 Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done'. [oll: 45 Tal. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly 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. Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet, 50 Sil. A pretty period! Weil, I guess the sequel: Sil. Yes, yes! the lines are very quaintly writ And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. Val. If please me, madam? what then? [Exit. Val. How now, sir? what, are you reasoning* with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reason. l'al. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need she, when she 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. Val. I would, it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: [desty, For often you have writ to her; and she, in moOr 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 un- All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.— Val. P've din'd, Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals, and would fain have neat: Oh! be not like your mistress; be mov'd, 60be moved. [Exeunt. 2 This was the language of 3 That is, like a scholar. 4 That is, discoursing, talk Motion, in Shakspeare's time, signified puppet, or a puppet-show. In print means with exactness. SCENE [my mother-oh 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: 5 now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. 10 15 Enter Panthino. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty’d. Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd 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 20 thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth? Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [Exe. Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pan. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and 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 30 boat with my sighs. Enter Launce leading a dog. Latn. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping: all the kind of the Launces have this very 35 fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with sir Protheus to the imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid 40 howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruelhearted 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 part-45 ing: 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 nei-50 ther;-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 lilly, and as small as a wand: this hat is 55 Nan, our maid; I am the dog-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-oh, 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 kis 60 my father; well he weeps on: now come I tol Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st. Laun. Well, I will go. SCENE IV. MILAN. [Exeunt. An apartment in the duke's palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant, Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Of my mistress then. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. So do counterfeits. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote2 you my folly? Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. That is, crazy, frantic with grief; or distracted, from any other cause. The word is very fre quently used in Chaucer; and sometimes writ wood, sometimes wode, Wood, or crazy women, were anciently supposed to be able to tell fortunes. 2 To quote is to observe. Thu. Silvia, I speak to you; and you, sir Thurio: Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere 10 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 Ihurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. 15 Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me,|20| 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. Enter the Duke. 25 130 To any happy messenger from thence. [serves Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well de-40 The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection: Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Si. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd then Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them pri- Sil. Have done, have done, here comes the Val. Welcome, dear Protheus!—Mistress, I Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. Too low a mi-tress for so high a servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Serv. Go with me:-Once more, new servant, welcome: 50 55 Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; Val. Ay, Protheus, but that life is alter'd now: And made them watchers of mine own heart's sor- 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. No; but she is an earthly paragon. Fal. Call her divine. Pro. I will not flatter her. Val. O flatter me; for love delights in praise. 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. Val. Sweet, except not any; Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Vul. 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 nie, Protheus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies noShe is alone2. ?| Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love 5 Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine eye, or Valentino's praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, 20 And that hath dazzled so much reason's light: 25 SCENE V. A street. Enter Speed and Launce. [Exit. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to 30 Milan. [thing; 35 Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world; why, man, she is mine And I as rich in having 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 see'st me doat 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, I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use; Val. Will you make haste? Laun. 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 40 Julia? Laun. Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Laun. No. • The first or principal of women. 2 That is, there is none to be compar'd to her. This alludes to the figures made by witches, as representatives of those whom they designed to torment or destroy. With more prudence, with more discretion. Speed. |