There, take the paper: see it be return'd; Luc. Re-enter Lucetta. Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, And here is writ-love-wounded Proteus:"- But twice or thrice was "Proteus" written down:-- He couples it to his complaining names. What would your ladyship? Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Jul. Is it near dinner-time? I would it were; That you might kill your stomach on your meat, Jul. What is 't that you took up so gingerly? Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then? Luc. That I let fall. Jul. To take a paper up And is that paper nothing? Luc. Nothing concerning me. Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible. Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: No, Madam; it is too sharp. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! [same! Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. Madam, [here? Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them. SCENE III.-VERONA. A Room in ANTONIO'S Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Pant. He said that Proteus your son was meet; Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that I have consider'd well his loss of time, Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd: I will despatch him to the emperor's court. Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go: And,-in good time:-now will we break with him. Enter PROTeus. Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! [there? Ant. How now! what letter are you reading Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or Of commendations sent from Valentine, [two Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. [writes Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he How happily he lives, how well belov'd, And daily graced by the emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will, And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the emperor's court: What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. To-morrow be in readiness to go: burning, And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. Lest he should take exceptions to my love; The uncertain glory of an April day; Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go. ACT II. SCENE I.-MILAN. A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. Speed. Sir, your glove. Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but-one. Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine.Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia! Speed. [Calling.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! Val. How now, sirrah! Speed. She is not within hearing, Sir. Val. Why, Sir, who bade you call her? Speed. Your worship, Sir; or else I mistook. Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too Val. Go to, Sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? Speed. She that your worship loves? [slow. Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robinpestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy 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, speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. 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: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in a 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? Speed. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? 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 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 Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers, No. [Exeunt. I 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. Val. Why? 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, 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. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thouSpeed. [Aside.] He should give her interest, and she gives it him. 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. [Gives a letter. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very 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, Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel: And yet I will not name it;-and yet I care not;And yet take this again;-and yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. Speed. [Aside.] And yet you will; and yet another yet. [it? Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; But since unwillingly, take them again: Nay, take them. Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, Sir, at my request; But I will none of them; they are for you: I would have had them writ more movingly. Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. [over: Val. If it please me, Madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: And so, good-morrow, servant. [Exit. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her He being her pupil, to become her tutor. [suitor, 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? Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog. Launce. 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 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 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. 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'll lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pant. What's the unkindest tide? Launce. Why, he that's tied 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? Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant, Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on 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. 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 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. 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 Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? 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 know him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, 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, He is as worthy for an empress' love, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 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. 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 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 How could he see his way to seek out you? [blind, 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. Have done, have done : here comes the gentleman. Enter PROTEUS. 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. 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. with you. Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Att.] Come, Go with me.-Once more, new servant, welcome: [Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO. 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. love? 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 chas'd 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! Now, no discourse, except it be 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. 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, 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? 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. |