The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

how say'st thou, that thy master is become a SCENE VII.-Verona.-A Room in JULIA'S notable lover?

Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?

Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mista

kest me.

Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee: I meant thy master.

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.

Laun. Why I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Chris

tian.

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;
And even that power, which gave me first my
oath,

Provokes me to this threefold perjury.
Love bade me swear, and love bids me for-

swear:

O sweet-suggesting* love, if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will

House.

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.
Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me!
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,-
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,-
To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.

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,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot

[fire; Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam'st* it up, the more

it burns;

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;

[stones,

But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course:

To learn his wit to exchange the bad for bet-I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,

ter.

Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do ;

But there I leave to love, where I should love.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :

If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend;
For love is still more precious than itself:
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair!
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,

Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now prove constant to myself,

And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,+
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a woman: for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men :
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your
hair.

With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots:
Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
To be fantastic may become a youth

Of greater time than I shall show to be.

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?

Jul. That fits as well, as-"tell me, good my lord,

Without some treachery used to Valertine:-"What compass will you wear your farthin

This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window;
Myself in counsel, his competitor:†
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended‡ flight;
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter:
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceed-
ing.

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!

[Exit.

+ Intended.

gale?"

[cetta.

Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lu-
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

Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on.
a pin,

What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly:
Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have
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.

Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim* might err,

Lue. If you think so, then stay at home, and And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,

go not.

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey, when you come, No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:

I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. 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;
His 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

SCENE I--Milan.-An Anti-room in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;

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,

The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that [me.
Which else no worldly good should draw from
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daugh-
Myself am one made privy to the plot. [ter;
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates:
And should she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you
down,

Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
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 purpos'd to forbid

* Longed for.

(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st 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 devis'd 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 this 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 com-
ing.
[Exil.

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. Duke. Nay then, no matter; stay with me a while;

I am to break with thee of some affairs,
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;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like
duty,

I now am full resolved to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your grace have me to do
in this?

Duke. There is a lady, Sir, in Milan here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence :
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,
(For long agone I have forgot to court:
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; * Guess. † Tempted.

Guessed. Design.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best
contents her:

Send her another; never give her o'er;
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.
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.

Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of
cords,

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.

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that thither them impórtune,

Do curse the grace that with such grace hath
bless'd them,

Because myself, do want my servants' fortune:
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should
What's here?

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, I 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 bear it

Under a cloak, that is of any length.

[be.

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:
"Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose :--
Why, Phaeton, (for thou art Merops' son)
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on

thee?

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from
Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
[Exit DUKE.

hence.

Val. And why not death, rather than living
torment?

And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale ;
There is no day for me to look upon:
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
If I be not by her fair influence
She is my essence; and I leave to
fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
Tarry I here I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him ont.
Laun. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hair

the turn?

(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 them,

As if but now they waxed pale for wo:
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.
Val. No more; unless the next word that
thou speak'st,

Have some malignant power upon my life :
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.*

Pro. Čease to lament for that thou canst not help,

And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love:
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate :
Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love affairs:
As thou lov❜st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.
Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my
boy,
[gate.
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north-
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valen-
tine.
Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!

[Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love : yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel,-which is much in a bare Christian. Here is a cat-log [Pulling out a pa

* Grief.

Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read.

Speed. Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. Laun. There; and saint Nicholas* be thy speed!

Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so?
Speed. Item, She can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock. Speed. Item, She can wash and scour. Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: Read on.

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Laun. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because love crusts.

Speed. Item, She is curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth

Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised.

Speed. Item, She is too liberal.*

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not; for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs,and more wealth than faults Laun. Stop there; I'll have her she was mine and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,— Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were out!

Speed. And more wealth than faults. Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gracious:† Well, I'll have her and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,

Speed. What then?

Pro. I do, my lord. Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

Duke. Ay, and perversely she persévers so. What might we do, to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio?

Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; | Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate.

Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: Therefore it must,with circumstance, be spoken By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend. Duke. Then you must undertake to slander

him.

Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to "Tis an ill office for a gentleman; [do: Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him,

Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent
Being entreated to it by your friend.

Pro. You have prevailed, my lord: if I can do it,

By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy She shall not long continue love to him. master stays for thee at the north-gate. Speed. For me?

Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the

turn.

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner; 'pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets!-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit. SCENE II.-The same.-A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO; PROTEUS behind. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will

love you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice; which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.-
How now, Sir Proteus? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?

Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously.

Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not

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But say, this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.
Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from
him,

Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me :
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind;

Where

Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access,
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.
you may temper her, by your persuasion,
Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect:-
You must lay lime,* to tangle her desires,
But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred

poesy.

Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity :For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews; [stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Whose golden touch could soften steel and Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire-lamenting elegies,

With some sweet concert: to their instruments
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
Tune a deploring dump;† the night's dead
silence
[grievance.

Will well become such sweet complaining
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been
in love.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of ..., Volume 1