SCENE III.- The Same. A Street. Enter LAUNCE, leading his dog Crab. Launce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have receiv'd 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 pibble-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 sole. This shoe is my mother, and this my father. A veng'ance 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:-O! that shoe could speak now, like an old woman. Well, I kiss her: why there'tis; here's my mother's breath upand 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 shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer. Launce. It is no matter if the ti'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ti'd that ever any man ti'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide? Launce. Why, he that's ti'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, Launce. Lose the ti'd, 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 boat with my sighs. [call thee. Pant. Come; come away, man; I was sent to Launce. Sir, call me what thou dar'st. Pant. Wilt thou go? Launce. Well, I will go. SCENE IV. [Exeunt. Milan. A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. cameleon. ? [colour? Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change Val. Give him leave, madam: he is a kind of [blood, than live in your air. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir: you always end ere [quickly shot off. you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and 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; a son, that well deThe honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? [fancy Val. I know him, as myself; for from our inWe 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 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 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. [he. Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth. Silvia, I speak to you; and you, Sir Thurio:- 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 Upon some other pawn for fealty. [them, Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still. [blind, Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being 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. [Exit THURIO. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus!-Mistress, I beseech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. 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. That you are worthless. Enter THURIO. Thu. Madam, my lord, your father, would speak with you. Sil. I wait upon his pleasure: 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? [commended. Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much Val. And how do yours? Pro. I left them all in health. [love? Val. How does your lady, and how thrives your 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: Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! 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. 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. 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 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 me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worth as She is alone. Pro. [nothing. Then, let her alone. [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 enquire you forth. Val. Will you make haste? Pro. I will. [Exit VALENTINE. Even as one heat another heat expels, And that's the reason I love him so little. c2 If I can check my erring love, I will; With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. (Exit. I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; SCENE V.- The Same. A Street. Enter SPEED and LAUNCE. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this alwaysthat 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 Julia? Launce. Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Speed. How then? Shall he marry her? Speed. What, are they broken? Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not. My staff understands me. Speed. What thou say'st? Launce. Ay, and what I do too look thee; I'll but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. [all one. Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Launce. 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. Launce. 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 is become a notable lover? Launce. I never knew him otherwise. [him to be. Launce. A notable lubber, as thou reportest Speed. Why, thou ass, thou mistak'st me. Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master. Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse, so; wilt thou go? Speed. At thy service. SCENE VI. [Exeunt. The Same. An Apartment in the Palace. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; To wrong my friend, I shall be much 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 will forget that Julia is alive, Now, presently I'll give her father notice Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; Much less shall she, that hath Love's wings to fly; And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. 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, Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. The current, that with gentle murmur glides, And so by many winding nooks he strays, Then let me go, and hinder not my course. And make a pastime of each weary step, Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings, With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots: To be fantastic, may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. 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. [not. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go Jul. Nay, that I will not. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. to him! I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend, 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. [Exit. Enter VALENTINE. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? That stays to bear my letters to my friends, Duke. Be they of much import? Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that 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, Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come; answer not, but to it presently: I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. Act Third. SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-chamber in the DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. SIR THURIO, give us leave, I pray, a We have some secrets to confer about.- [while: [Exit THURIO. Now tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would disThe law of friendship bids me to conceal; [cover, But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am, My duty pricks me on to utter that, Which else no worldly good should draw from me. I know, you have determin'd to bestow her (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) Duke. Nay, then no matter: stay with me a I am to break with thee of some affairs [while. That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, Sir Thurio, to my daughter. Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match [man Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleIs full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him? Duke. No, trust me she is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty Val. What would your Grace have me to do in [words. Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not 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 her. Send her another; never give her o'er, Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, And kept severely from resort of men, That no man hath access by day to her. Val. Why, then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. [cords, Val. Why, then, a ladder quaintly made of To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, So bold Leander would adventure it. Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that. Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone. How shall I best convey the ladder thither? Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may Under a cloak that is of any length. Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the Val. Ay, my good lord. Duke. [bear it [turn? Then, let me see thy cloak: I'll get me one of such another length. [lord. Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.What letter is this same? What's here?" To Silvia!" And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. “My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; And slaves they are to me, that send them flying: O! could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them, Because myself do want my servant's fortune. I 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." And think my patience, more than thy desert, Will give thee time to leave our royal court, Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE. Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out. Launce. So-hough! so-hough! Pro. What seest thou? Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia! - Hath she forsworn me? [me! Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn What is your news? [are vanished. Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you Pro. That thou art banish'd: O! that is the news: From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend. Val. O! I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd? Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, (Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force) A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd, With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became As if but now they waxed pale for woe: [them, But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there. |