WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.

Were’t not affection chains thy tender days

To the sweet glances of thy honour’d love,

5 I rather would entreat thy company

To see the wonders of the world abroad,

Than, living dully sluggardized at home,

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.

But since thou lovest, love still, and thrive therein,

10

Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!

Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest

Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:

Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

15 When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,

If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,

For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Val. That’s on some shallow story of deep love:

How young Leander cross’d the Hellespont.

Pro. That’s a deep story of a deeper love;

For he was more than over shoes in love.

I. 1.
25 Val. ’Tis true; for you are over boots in love,

And yet you never swum the Hellespont.

Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;

30 Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment’s mirth

With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:

If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;

If lost, why then a grievous labour won;

However, but a folly bought with wit,

35 Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Val. Love is your master, for he masters you:

40 And he that is so yoked by a fool,

Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.

Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud

The eating canker dwells, so eating love

Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

45 Val. And writers say, as the most forward bud

Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,

Even so by love the young and tender wit

Is turn’d to folly; blasting in the bud,

Losing his verdure even in the prime,

I. 1.
50 And all the fair effects of future hopes.

But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,

That art a votary to fond desire?

Once more adieu! my father at the road

Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d.

Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.

To Milan let me hear from thee by letters

Of thy success in love, and what news else

Betideth here in absence of thy friend;

60 And I likewise will visit thee with mine.

Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love:

He leaves his friends to dignify them more;

65 I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love.

Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me,

Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,

War with good counsel, set the world at nought;

Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.

Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipp’d already,

And I have play’d the sheep in losing him.

Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,

I. 1.
75 An if the shepherd be awhile away.

Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,

’Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

140 Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,

Which cannot perish having thee aboard,

Being destined to a drier death on shore. Exit Speed.

I must go send some better messenger:

I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,

145 Receiving them from such a worthless post. Exit.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,

Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love?

Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen

5 That every day with parle encounter me,

In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind

According to my shallow simple skill.

10 Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;

But, were I you, he never should be mine.

Luc. Pardon, dear madam: ’tis a passing shame

That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Luc. I have no other but a woman’s reason;

I think him so, because I think him so.

Luc. Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.

He would have given it you; but I, being in the way,

40 Did in your name receive it: pardon the fault, I pray.

Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!

Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?

To whisper and conspire against my youth?

Now, trust me, ’tis an office of great worth,

45 And you an officer fit for the place.

There, take the paper: see it be return’d;

Or else return no more into my sight.

I. 2.
50 Jul. And yet I would I had o’erlook’d the letter:

It were a shame to call her back again,

And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.

What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,

And would not force the letter to my view!

55 Since maids, in modesty, say ’no’ to that

Which they would have the profferer construe ‘ay.’

Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,

That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,

And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!

60 How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,

When willingly I would have had her here!

How angerly I taught my brow to frown,

When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!

My penance is, to call Lucetta back,

65 And ask remission for my folly past.

What, ho! Lucetta!

Luc.

I would it were;

That you might kill your stomach on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,

Unless it have a false interpreter.

80 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. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:

90 And yet methinks I do not like this tune.

Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:

95 There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.

Here is a coil with protestation! Tears the letter.

I. 2.
100 Go get you gone, and let the papers lie:

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased

To be so anger’d with another letter. Exit.

Jul. Nay, would I were so anger’d with the same!

105 O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!

Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey,

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!

110 As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruising stones,

Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.

And here is writ ‘love-wounded Proteus.’

Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,

115 Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal’d;

And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.

But twice or thrice was ‘Proteus’ written down.

Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away,

Till I have found each letter in the letter,

120 Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear

Unto a ragged, fearful-hanging rock,

And throw it thence into the raging sea!

Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,

‘Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,

I. 2.
125 To the sweet Julia’:—that I’ll tear away.—

And yet I will not, sith so prettily

He couples it to his complaining names.

Thus will I fold them one upon another:

Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

130 Luc. Madam,

Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

135 Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:

Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.

Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;

I see things too, although you judge I wink.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that

Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

Pan.

He wonder’d that your lordship

5 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;

10 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 importune you

To let him spend his time no more at home,

15 Which would be great impeachment to his age,

In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant. Nor need’st thou much importune me to that

Whereon this month I have been hammering.

I have consider’d well his loss of time,

20 And how he cannot be a perfect man,

Not being tried and tutor’d in the world:

Experience is by industry achieved,

And perfected by the swift course of time.

Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him?

I. 3.
25 Pan. I think your lordship is not ignorant

How his companion, youthful Valentine,

Attends the emperor in his royal court.

Pan. ’Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither:

30 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 advised:

35 And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it

The execution of it shall make known.

Even with the speediest expedition

I will dispatch him to the emperor’s court.

Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,

40 With other gentlemen of good esteem,

Are journeying to salute the emperor,

And to commend their service to his will.

Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go:

And, in good time! now will we break with him.

45 Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!

Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;

Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn.

O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,

To seal our happiness with their consents!

I. 3.
50 O heavenly Julia!

Pro. May’t please your lordship, ’tis a word or two

Of commendations sent from Valentine,

Deliver’d by a friend that came from him.

Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he writes

How happily he lives, how well beloved,

And daily graced by the emperor;

Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.

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;

65 For what I will, I will, and there an end.

I am resolved 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.

70 To-morrow be in readiness to go:

Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided:

Please you, deliberate a day or two.

Ant. Look, what thou want’st shall be sent after thee:

I. 3.
75 No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.

Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ’d

To hasten on his expedition. 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.

80 I fear’d to show my father Julia’s letter,

Lest he should take exceptions to my love;

And with the vantage of mine own excuse

Hath he excepted most against my love.

O, how this spring of love resembleth

85

The uncertain glory of an April day,

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away!

Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:

He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go.

90

Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,

And yet a thousand times it answers ‘no.’ Exeunt.

Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it’s mine:

Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!

5 Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Val. As you enjoin’d me, I have writ your letter

Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;

95 Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,

But for my duty to your ladyship.

Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;

For, being ignorant to whom it goes,

II. 1.
100 I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write,

Please you command, a thousand times as much;

And yet—

105 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.

Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very quaintly writ;

But since unwillingly, take them again.

Nay, take them.

115 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.

Sil. And when it’s writ, for my sake read it over,

120 And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.

Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour:

And so, good morrow, servant. Exit.

Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,

II. 1.
125 As a nose on a man’s face, or a weathercock on a steeple!

My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,

He being her pupil, to become her tutor.

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better,

That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Speed. I’ll warrant you, ’tis as well:

For often have you writ to her; and she, in modesty,

Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;

155 Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover,

Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.

Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy;

And when that hour o’erslips me in the day

10 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;

15 That tide will stay me longer than I should.

Julia, farewell! Exit Julia.

What, gone without a word?

Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;

For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

20 Pro. Go; I come, I come.

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. Exeunt.

45 Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.

Sir Valentine, your father’s in good health:

What say you to a letter from your friends

Of much good news?

Val.

My lord, I will be thankful

To any happy messenger from thence.

Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman

To be of worth, and worthy estimation,

And not without desert so well reputed.

55 Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves

The honour and regard of such a father.

Val. I know him as myself; for from our infancy

We have conversed and spent our hours together:

60 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;

65 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

Comes all the praises that I now bestow,

He is complete in feature and in mind

70 With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

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.

Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,

II. 4.
75 With commendation from great potentates;

And here he means to spend his time awhile:

I think ’tis no unwelcome news to you.

Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth.

80 Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio,

For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:

I will 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

85 Did hold his eyes lock’d in her crystal looks.

Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchised them,

Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Sil. Nay, then, he should be blind; and, being blind,

90 How could he see his way to seek out you?

Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:

Upon a homely object Love can wink.

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.

II. 4.
100 Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him

To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Pro. Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a servant

To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

105 Val. Leave off discourse of disability:

Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed:

Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio,

Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome:

115 I’ll leave you to confer of home affairs;

When you have done, we look to hear from you.

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:

II. 4.
125 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,

130 Love hath chased 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,

135 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.

140 Was this the idol that you worship so?

145 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.

II. 4.
150 Val.

Sweet, except not any;

Except thou wilt except against my love.

Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too:

She shall be dignified with this high honour,—

155 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.

Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing

To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing;

She is alone.

Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own;

165 And I as rich in having such a jewel

As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,

Because thou see’st me dote upon my love.

170 My foolish rival, that her father likes

Only for his possessions are so huge,

Is gone with her along; and I must after,

For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.

II. 4.
175 Val. Ay, and we are betroth’d: nay, more, our marriage-hour,

With all the cunning manner of our flight,

Determined of; how I must climb her window;

The ladder made of cords; and all the means

Plotted and ’greed on for my happiness.

180 Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,

In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

Pro. Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:

I must unto the road, to disembark

Some necessaries that I needs must use;

185 And then I’ll presently attend you.

Pro. I will. Exit Valentine.

Even as one heat another heat expels,

Or as one nail by strength drives out another,

190 So the remembrance of my former love

Is by a newer object quite forgotten.

Is it mine, or Valentine’s praise,

Her true perfection, or my false transgression,

That makes me reasonless to reason thus?

195 She is fair; and so is Julia, that I love.—

That I did love, for now my love is thaw’d;

Which, like a waxen image ’gainst a fire,

Bears no impression of the thing it was.

Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,

II. 4.
200 And that I love him not as I was wont.

O, but I love his lady too too much!

And that’s the reason I love him so little.

How shall I dote on her with more advice,

That thus without advice begin to love her!

205 ’Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,

And that hath dazzled my reason’s light;

But when I look on her perfections,

There is no reason but I shall be blind.

If I can check my erring love, I will;

210 If not, to compass her I’ll use my skill. Exit.

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,

5 Provokes me to this threefold perjury;

Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear.

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,

10 But now I worship a celestial sun.

Unheedful vows may needfully be broken;

And he wants wit that wants resolved will

To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.

Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,

15 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:

20 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 most precious in itself;

II. 6.
25 And Silvia—witness Heaven, that made her fair!—

Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive,

Remembering that my love to her is dead;

And Valentine I’ll hold an enemy,

30 Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now prove constant to myself,

Without some treachery used to Valentine.

This night he meaneth with a corded ladder

To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window;

35 Myself in counsel, his competitor.

Now presently I’ll give her father notice

Of their disguising and pretended flight;

Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine;

For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;

40 But, Valentine being gone, I’ll quickly cross

By some sly trick blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding.

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,

As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! Exit.

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 engraved,

5 To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,

How, with my honour, I may undertake

A journey to my loving Proteus.

Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

10 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.

15 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 wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow

20 As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire,

But qualify the fire’s extreme rage,

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

Jul. The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns.

II. 7.
25 The current that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage;

But when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones,

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

30 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:

I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream,

35 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.

40 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.

45 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.

II. 7.
50 Jul. That fits as well as, ‘Tell me, good my lord,

What compass will you wear your farthingale?’

Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.

55 Luc. A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin,

Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have

What thou think’st meet, and is most mannerly.

But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me

60 For undertaking so unstaid a journey?

I fear me, it will make me scandalized.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.

65 If Proteus like your journey when you come,

No matter who’s displeased when you are gone:

I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:

A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,

70 And instances of infinite of love,

Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect!

But truer stars did govern Proteus’ birth:

II. 7.
75 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.

80 Jul. Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong,

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,

85 To furnish me upon my longing journey.

All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,

My goods, my lands, my reputation;

Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.

Come, answer not, but to it presently!

90 I am impatient of my tarriance. Exeunt.

Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;

We have some secrets to confer about. Exit Thu.

Now, tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me?

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover

5 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

Which else no worldly good should draw from me.

10 Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,

This night intends to steal away your daughter:

Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know you have determined to bestow her

On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;

15 And should she thus be stol’n 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

20 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,

III. 1.
25 Haply when they have judged me fast asleep;

And oftentimes have purposed to forbid

Sir Valentine her company and my court:

But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,

And so, unworthily disgrace the man,

30 A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d,

I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find

That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.

And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,

Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,

35 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 devised a mean

How he her chamber-window will ascend,

40 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

45 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.

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.

Val. The tenour of them doth but signify

My health and happy being at your court.

Duke. Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile;

I am to break with thee of some affairs

60 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

Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman

65 Is 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;

70 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

III. 1.
75 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.

Duke. There is a lady in Verona 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,—

85 For long agone I have forgot to court;

Besides, the fashion of the time is changed,—

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:

90 Dumb jewels often in their silent kind

More than quick words do move a woman’s mind.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.

Send her another; never give her o’er;

95 For scorn at first makes afterlove 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.

III. 1.
100 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,

105 If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke. But she I mean is promised 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.

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept safe,

That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,

115 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,

120 So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,

Advise me where I may have such a ladder.

Duke. This very night; for Love is like a child,

III. 1.
125 That longs for every thing that he can come by.

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

130 Under a cloak that is of any length.

Duke.

Then let me see thy cloak:

I’ll get me one of such another length.

135 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.

140 ‘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;

145 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 servants’ fortune:

I curse myself, for they are sent by me,

That they should harbour where their lord would be.

‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.’

’Tis so; and here’s the ladder for the purpose.

Why, Phaethon,—for thou art Merops’ son,—

Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,

155 And with thy daring folly burn the world?

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?

Go, base intruder! overweening slave!

Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates;

And think my patience, more than thy desert,

160 Is privilege for thy departure hence:

Thank me for this more than for all the favours,

Which all too much I have bestow’d on thee.

But if thou linger in my territories

Longer than swiftest expedition

165 Will give thee time to leave our royal court,

By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love

I ever bore my daughter or thyself.

Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;

But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence. Exit.

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

To die is to be banish’d from myself;

And Silvia is myself: banish’d from her,

Is self from self: a deadly banishment!

What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?

III. 1.
175 What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?

Unless it be to think that she is by,

And feed upon the shadow of perfection.

Except I be by Silvia in the night,

There is no music in the nightingale;

180 Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

There is no day for me to look upon:

She is my essence; and I leave to be,

If I be not by her fair influence

Foster’d, illumined, cherish’d, kept alive.

185 I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:

Tarry I here, I but attend on death:

But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

205 Val. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news,

So much of bad already hath possess’d them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,

For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia.

Hath she forsworn me?

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.

215 What is your news?

Pro. That thou art banished—O, that’s the news!—

From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already,

220 And now excess of it will make me surfeit.

Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer’d to the doom—

Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force—

A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:

III. 1.
225 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 woe:

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,

230 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 chafed him so,

When she for thy repeal was suppliant,

235 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,

240 As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Cease 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;

245 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

III. 1.
250 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.

255 As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself,

Regard thy danger, and along with me!

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,

Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate.

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 despised me most.

Forsworn my company, and rail’d at me,

5 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,

10 And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.

Enter Proteus.

How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman,

According to our proclamation, gone?

Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.

Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee—

For thou hast shown some sign of good desert—

Makes me the better to confer with thee.

20 Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your Grace

Let me not live to look upon your Grace.

Duke. Thou know’st how willingly I would effect

The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter.

III. 2.
25 Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant

How she opposes her against my will.

Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so.

What might we do to make the girl forget

30 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.

35 Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:

Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken

By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do:

40 ’Tis an ill office for a gentleman,

Especially against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him,

Your slander never can endamage him;

Therefore the office is indifferent,

45 Being entreated to it by your friend.

Pro. You have prevail’d, my lord: if I can do it

By ought that I can speak in his dispraise,

She shall not long continue love to him.

But say this weed her love from Valentine,

III. 2.
50 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

55 As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

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

Because we know, on Valentine’s report,

You are already Love’s firm votary,

And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.

60 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;

Where you may temper her by your persuasion

65 To hate young Valentine and love my friend.

Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect:

But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;

You must lay lime to tangle her desires

By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes

70 Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.

Duke. Ay,

Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

Pro. Say that upon the altar of her beauty

You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:

III. 2.
75 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 poets’ sinews;

Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,

80 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans

Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.

After your dire-lamenting elegies,

Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window

With some sweet concert; to their instruments

85 Tune a deploring dump: the night’s dead silence

Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.

This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Thu. And thy advice this night I’ll put in practice.

90 Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,

Let us into the city presently

To sort some gentlemen well skill’d in music.

I have a sonnet that will serve the turn

To give the onset to thy good advice.

Pro. We’ll wait upon your Grace till after supper,

And afterward determine our proceedings.

Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye:

If not, we’ll make you sit, and rifle you.

5 Speed. Sir, we are undone; these are the villains

That all the travellers do fear so much.

Val. Then know that I have little wealth to lose:

A man I am cross’d with adversity;

My riches are these poor habiliments,

Of which if you should here disfurnish me,

15 You take the sum and substance that I have.

Val. Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay’d,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse:

I kill’d a man, whose death I much repent;

But yet I slew him manfully in fight,

Without false vantage or base treachery.

30 First Out. Why, ne’er repent it, if it were done so.

But were you banish’d for so small a fault?

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy,

35 Or else I often had been miserable.

Third Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood’s fat friar,

This fellow were a king for our wild faction!

Third Out. Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen,

45 Such as the fury of ungovern’d youth

Thrust from the company of awful men:

Myself was from Verona banished

For practising to steal away a lady,

An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

IV. 1.
50 Sec. Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,

Who, in my mood, I stabb’d unto the heart.

First Out. And I for such like petty crimes as these.

But to the purpose,—for we cite our faults,

That they may hold excused our lawless lives;

55 And partly, seeing you are beautified

With goodly shape, and by your own report

A linguist, and a man of such perfection

As we do in our quality much want,—

Sec. Out. Indeed, because you are a banish’d man,

60 Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:

Are you content to be our general?

To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

Third Out. What say’st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?

65 Say ay, and be the captain of us all:

We’ll do thee homage and be ruled by thee,

Love thee as our commander and our king.

70 Val. I take your offer, and will live with you,

Provided that you do no outrages

On silly women or poor passengers.

Third Out. No, we detest such vile base practices.

Come, go with us, we’ll bring thee to our crews,

IV. 1.
75 And show thee all the treasure we have got;

Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. Exeunt.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,

And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

Under the colour of commending him,

I have access my own love to prefer:

5 But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,

To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.

When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;

When to her beauty I commend my vows,

10 She bids me think how I have been forsworn

In breaking faith with Julia whom I loved:

And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,

The least whereof would quell a lover’s hope,

Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,

15 The more it grows, and fawneth on her still.

But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,

And give some evening music to her ear.

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for you know that love

20 Will creep in service where it cannot go.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,

IV. 2.
25 Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heaven such grace did lend her,

That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness.

Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness,

And, being help’d, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling;

She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling:

To her let us garlands bring.

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing.

70 But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on

Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so plead,

That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.

Who is that that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart’s truth,

85 You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.

Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this:

90 That presently you hie you home to bed.

Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man!

Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,

To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceived so many with thy vows?

95 Return, return, and make thy love amends.

For me,—by this pale queen of night I swear,

I am so far from granting thy request,

That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit;

And by and by intend to chide myself

IV. 2.
100 Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;

But she is dead.

Jul. [Aside] ’Twere false, if I should speak it;

For I am sure she is not buried.

Sil. Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend

105 Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,

I am betroth’d: and art thou not ashamed

To wrong him with thy importunacy?

Sil. And so suppose am I; for in his grave

110 Assure thyself my love is buried.

Sil. Go to thy lady’s grave, and call hers thence;

Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

115 Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,

Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,

The picture that is hanging in your chamber;

To that I’ll speak, to that I’ll sigh and weep:

For since the substance of your perfect self

120 Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;

And to your shadow will I make true love.

Jul. [Aside] If ’twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil. I am very loath to be your idol, sir;

IV. 2.
125 But since your falsehood shall become you well

To worship shadows and adore false shapes,

Send to me in the morning, and I’ll send it:

And so, good rest.

Pro.

As wretches have o’ernight

That wait for execution in the morn.

135 Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night

That e’er I watch’d, and the most heaviest. Exeunt.

Egl. This is the hour that Madam Silvia

Entreated me to call and know her mind:

There’s some great matter she’ld employ me in.

Madam, madam!

Sil.

Who calls?

Egl.

Your servant and your friend;

5 One that attends your ladyship’s command.

According to your ladyship’s impose,

I am thus early come to know what service

10 It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,—

Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,—

Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish’d:

Thou art not ignorant what dear good will

15 I bear unto the banish’d Valentine;

Nor how my father would enforce me marry

Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.

Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say

No grief did ever come so near thy heart

20 As when thy lady and thy true love died,

Upon whose grave thou vow’dst pure chastity.

Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,

To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;

And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,

IV. 3.
25 I do desire thy worthy company,

Upon whose faith and honour I repose.

Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour,

But think upon my grief, a lady’s grief,

And on the justice of my flying hence,

30 To keep me from a most unholy match,

Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.

I do desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,

To bear me company, and go with me:

35 If not, to hide what I have said to thee,

That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;

Which since I know they virtuously are placed,

I give consent to go along with you;

40 Recking as little what betideth me

As much I wish all good befortune you.

When will you go?

Sil.

At Friar Patrick’s cell,

Where I intend holy confession.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,

And will employ thee in some service presently.

40 Pro. I hope thou wilt. [To Launce] How now, you whoreson peasant!

Where have you been these two days loitering?

55 Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,

Or ne’er return again into my sight.

Away, I say! stay’st thou to vex me here? Exit Launce.

A slave, that still an end turns me to shame!

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

60 Partly that I have need of such a youth,

That can with some discretion do my business,

For ’tis no trusting to yond foolish lout;

But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour,

Which, if my augury deceive me not,

65 Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:

Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.

Go presently, and take this ring with thee,

Deliver it to Madam Silvia:

She loved me well deliver’d it to me.

70 Jul. It seems you loved not her, to leave her token.

She is dead, belike?

Jul.

I cannot choose

But pity her.

IV. 4.
75 Jul. Because methinks that she loved you as well

As you do love your lady Silvia:

She dreams on him that has forgot her love;

You dote on her that cares not for your love.

’Tis pity love should be so contrary;

80 And thinking on it makes me cry, ‘alas!’

Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal

This letter. That’s her chamber. Tell my lady

I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.

Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,

85 Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. Exit.

Jul. How many women would do such a message?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertained

A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.

Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him

90 That with his very heart despiseth me?

Because he loves her, he despiseth me;

Because I love him, I must pity him.

This ring I gave him when he parted from me,

To bind him to remember my good will;

95 And now am I, unhappy messenger,

To plead for that which I would not obtain,

To carry that which I would have refused,

To praise his faith which I would have dispraised.

I am my master’s true-confirmed love;

IV. 4.
100 But cannot be true servant to my master,

Unless I prove false traitor to myself.

Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly,

As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.

Enter Silvia, attended.

Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean

105 To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.

Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience

To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.

Go give your master this: tell him, from me,

115 One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,

Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.

Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.—

Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised

Deliver’d you a paper that I should not:

120 This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil. There, hold!

I will not look upon your master’s lines:

IV. 4.
125 I know they are stuff’d with protestations,

And full of new-found oaths; which he will break

As easily as I do tear his paper.

Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me;

130 For I have heard him say a thousand times

His Julia gave it him at his departure.

Though his false finger have profaned the ring,

Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.

Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.

Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself:

140 To think upon her woes I do protest

That I have wept a hundred several times.

145 Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:

When she did think my master loved her well,

She, in my judgement, was as fair as you;

But since she did neglect her looking-glass,

And threw her sun-expelling mask away,

IV. 4.
150 The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks,

And pinch’d the lily-tincture of her face,

That now she is become as black as I.

Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost,

155 When all our pageants of delight were play’d,

Our youth got me to play the woman’s part,

And I was trimm’d in Madam Julia’s gown;

Which served me as fit, by all men’s judgements,

As if the garment had been made for me:

160 Therefore I know she is about my height.

And at that time I made her weep agood,

For I did play a lamentable part:

Madam, ’twas Ariadne passioning

For Theseus’ perjury and unjust flight;

165 Which I so lively acted with my tears,

That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,

Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,

If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.

170 Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!

I weep myself to think upon thy words.

Here, youth, there is my purse: I give thee this

For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou lovest her.

Farewell. Exit Silvia, with attendants.

IV. 4.
175 Jul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her.

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful!

I hope my master’s suit will be but cold,

Since she respects my mistress’ love so much.

Alas, how love can trifle with itself!

180 Here is her picture: let me see; I think,

If I had such a tire, this face of mine

Were full as lovely as is this of hers:

And yet the painter flatter’d her a little,

Unless I flatter with myself too much.

185 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:

If that be all the difference in his love,

I’ll get me such a colour’d periwig.

Her eyes are grey as glass; and so are mine:

Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high.

190 What should it be that he respects in her,

But I can make respective in myself,

If this fond Love were not a blinded god?

Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,

For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,

193 Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, loved, and adored!

And, were there sense in his idolatry,

My substance should be statue in thy stead.

I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake,

That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow,

IV. 4.
200 I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes,

To make my master out of love with thee! Exit.

Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky;

And now it is about the very hour

That Silvia, at Friar Patrick’s cell, should meet me.

She will not fail, for lovers break not hours,

5 Unless it be to come before their time;

So much they spur their expedition.

See where she comes.

Enter Silvia.

Lady, a happy evening!

Sil. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour,

Out at the postern by the abbey-wall:

10 I fear I am attended by some spies.

Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;

If we recover that, we are sure enough. Exeunt.

Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was;

And yet she takes exceptions at your person.

Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,

Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes.

Jul. [Aside] ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes;

For I had rather wink than look on them.

Duke. How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio!

Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?

Duke. Why then,

35 She’s fled unto that peasant Valentine;

And Eglamour is in her company.

’Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both,

As he in penance wander’d through the forest;

Him he knew well, and guess’d that it was she,

40 But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it;

Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick’s cell this even; and there she was not;

These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.

Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,

45 But mount you presently, and meet with me

Upon the rising of the mountain-foot

That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled:

Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. Exit.

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,

V. 2.
50 That flies her fortune when it follows her.

I’ll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour

Than for the love of reckless Silvia. Exit.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love

Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. Exit.

55 Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love

Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. Exit.

First Out. Come, come,

Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.

Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one

Have learn’d me how to brook this patiently.

Third Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us,

But Moses and Valerius follow him.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;

10 There is our captain: we’ll follow him that’s fled;

The thicket is beset; he cannot ’scape.

First Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain’s cave:

Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,

And will not use a woman lawlessly.

Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!

This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:

Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

5 And to the nightingale’s complaining notes

Tune my distresses and record my woes.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,

Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,

Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,

10 And leave no memory of what it was!

Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!

What halloing and what stir is this to-day?

These are my mates, that make their wills their law,

15 Have some unhappy passenger in chase.

They love me well; yet I have much to do

To keep them from uncivil outrages.

Withdraw thee, Valentine: who’s this comes here?

Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,

20 Though you respect not aught your servant doth,

To hazard life, and rescue you from him

That would have forced your honour and your love;

Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;

A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,

V. 4.
25 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.

Val. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear!

Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;

30 But by my coming I have made you happy.

Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,

I would have been a breakfast to the beast,

35 Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.

O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine,

Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul!

And full as much, for more there cannot be,

I do detest false perjured Proteus.

40 Therefore be gone; solicit me no more.

Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death,

Would I not undergo for one calm look!

O, ’tis the curse in love, and still approved,

When women cannot love where they’re beloved!

45 Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he’s beloved.

Read over Julia’s heart, thy first, best love,

For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith

Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths

Descended into perjury, to love me.

V. 4.
50 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two,

And that’s far worse than none; better have none

Than plural faith which is too much by one:

Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!

Pro.

In love

Who respects friend?

55 Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words

Can no way change you to a milder form,

I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end,

And love you ’gainst the nature of love,—force ye.

60 Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,

Thou friend of an ill fashion!

Val. Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love,

For such is a friend now; treacherous man!

Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye

65 Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say

I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.

Who should be trusted now, when one’s right hand

Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus,

I am sorry I must never trust thee more,

70 But count the world a stranger for thy sake.

The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,

’Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.

Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow

V. 4.
75 Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender ’t here; I do as truly suffer

As e’er I did commit.

Val.

Then I am paid;

And once again I do receive thee honest.

Who by repentance is not satisfied

80 Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.

By penitence the Eternal’s wrath’s appeased:

And, that my love may appear plain and free,

All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

Pro. How! let me see:

Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:

95 This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

Pro. But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart

I gave this unto Julia.

Jul. And Julia herself did give it me;

And Julia herself hath brought it hither.

Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,

And entertain’d ’em deeply in her heart.

How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!

O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!

105 Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me

Such an immodest raiment, if shame live

In a disguise of love:

It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,

Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

110 Pro. Than men their minds! ’tis true. O heaven, were man

But constant, he were perfect! That one error

Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:

Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.

What is in Silvia’s face, but I may spy

115 More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye?

Val. Come, come, a hand from either:

Let me be blest to make this happy close;

’Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

Val. Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke.

Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced,

Banished Valentine.

Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;

Come not within the measure of my wrath;

Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,

Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands:

130 Take but possession of her with a touch:

I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.

Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:

I hold him but a fool that will endanger

His body for a girl that loves him not:

135 I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,

To make such means for her as thou hast done,

And leave her on such slight conditions.

Now, by the honour of my ancestry,

140 I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

And think thee worthy of an empress’ love:

Know, then, I here forget all former griefs,

Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,

Plead a new state in thy unrival’d merit,

145 To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,

Thou art a gentleman, and well derived;

Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.

Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.

I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake,

V. 4.
150 To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

Val. These banish’d men that I have kept withal

Are men endued with worthy qualities:

Forgive them what they have committed here,

155 And let them be recall’d from their exile:

They are reformed, civil, full of good,

And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

Duke. Thou hast prevail’d; I pardon them and thee:

Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts.

160 Come, let us go: we will include all jars

With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.

Val. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold

With our discourse to make your Grace to smile.

What think you of this page, my lord?

Val. Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along,

That you will wonder what hath fortuned.

170 Come, Proteus; ’tis your penance but to hear

The story of your loves discovered:

That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;

One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. Exeunt.