Which they would have the profferer construe, Ay. Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. Jul. Is it near dinner-time? Luc. I would it were; That you might kill your stomach on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul. What is't you took up Nothing. Jul. Why didst thou stoop then? Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. Luc. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.. Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune: Give me a note: your ladyship can set. Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love. Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Jul. And why not you? Luc. I cannot reach so high. Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp. And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Till I have found each letter in the letter, Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you judge I wink. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your sop. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there; Some, to discover islands far away; Some, to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises, He said, that Proteus, your son was meet: And did request me, to impórtune you, To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age, In having known no travel in his youth. Ant. Nor need'st thou much impórtune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. Pan. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither: There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd: I will despatch hi the emperor's court. With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the emperor, And to commend their service to his will. ACT II. Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go: SCENE I.-Milan. An Apartment in the Duke s And, in good time,-now will we break with him. Of commendation sent from Valentine, Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. How happily be lives, how well-belov'd, Art. And how stand you affected to his wish? Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: I am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent after thee: No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go.- [Exeunt ANT. and PAN. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of burning; And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd: The uncertain glory of an April day; Re-enter PANTHINO. Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; Palace. Val Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam 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 learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, 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 Hallow. mas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. Val. Are all these things perceived in me ? Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would: bu 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 inalady. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not? Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) wellfavoured. 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 esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty. Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed. Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own eyes 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, sr; 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. Val. Madam, they are for you. Val. Please you, I'll write your adyship another. My master sues to her; and she hath taught her He being her pupil, to become her tutor. 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? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them ;-jest? 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! bere's a million [Aside. of manners. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Speed. He should give her interest, and she gives it him. Val. As you enjoin'd me. I have writ your letter, 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: For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.-clerkly done. 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, Please you command, a thousand times as much : And yet, Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time. Speed. Ay, but hearken sir; though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; SCENE II.-Verona. A Room in Julia's Hous And yet I will not name it :-and yet I care not ;- Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ Enter PROTEUS and JULIA. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, taka Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pre. Here is my band 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 thy tide of tears; The 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. 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 prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured 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 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 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 Bole; 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 1 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, (O, 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 weep'st 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. 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 SHAK.-ÑO. '. Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Of my mistress then. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon. 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. 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. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard E 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 honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our ininfancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Sil. Belike, that new she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty. 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 gentieman. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus!-Mistress, I be seech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour. 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: Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. 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 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 chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no woe to his correction, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! Now, no discourse, except it be of love; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love. 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. Sweet, except not any; Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all 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: And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty scas, if all their sand were pearl |