Two Gentlemen of Verona. SCENE I. An open place in Verona. ACT I. Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest When thou dost meet good hap: and in thy If ever danger do environ thee, Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love; For he was more than over shoes in love. Val. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading mo- With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. prove. Pro. 'T is love you cavil at; I am not love. Val. Love is your master, for he masters you: And he that is so yokéd by a fool, Methinks should not be chronicled for wise. Pro. Yet writers say, "As in the sweetest bud Val. And writers say, "As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, That art a votary to fond desire? And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Once more adieu: my father at the road Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots. Expects my coming, there to see me shipped. Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. To Milan, let me hear from thee by letters, Pro. He after honor hunts, I after love: thought. Enter SPEED. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry "Baa." Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia? Speed. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labor. Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store of muttons. Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; 't were best pound you. Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter. Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold. Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over, Speed. Sir Proteus, save you: Saw you my 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your master? Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipped al ready; And I have played the sheep, in losing him. Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be awhile away. and lover. Pro. Nod, I; why, that's noddy. you ask me if she did nod; and I say, I. Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep- together, take it for your pains. herd, then, and I a sheep? Pro. I do. Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. Speed. This proves me still a sheep. Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master secks not me: therefore, I am no sheep. Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep. Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains. Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her? Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: And being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear, she 'll prove as hard to you in telling her mind. Give her no token but stones: for she's as hard as steel. Pro. What, said she nothing? Speed. No, not so much as- "Take this for thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master. Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, [Exeunt. Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 't is a passing shame, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. best. Jul. Your reason? Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me. Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Jul. His little speaking shews his love but small. Luc. O, they love least that let men know their Jul. I would, I knew his mind. Luc. Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheed- He would have given it you, but I, being in the Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll shew Dare you presume to harbor wanton lines? my mind According to my shallow simple skill. To whisper and conspire against my youth? Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Egla- And you an officer fit for the place. mour? There, take the paper, see it be returned; Luc. As of a knight well spoken, neat and fine; Or else return no more into my sight. Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? name? Luc. To plead for love, deserves more fee than And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. What would your ladyship? Luc. I would it were; That you might kill your O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! stomach on your meat, Injurious wasps to feed on such sweet honey, Jul. What is 't you took up so gingerly? Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then? Luc. To take a paper up, that I let fall. 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. 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? out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings! I'll kiss each several paper for amends. Look, here is writ-"kind Julia;" — unkind Julia! As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. |