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twg_000000028100 | me out of my wits. CLOWN. Advise you what you say: the minister is here. [_As Sir Topas_] Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas! CLOWN. [_As Sir Topas_] Maintain no words with him, good fellow. [_As himself_] Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God buy you, good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028101 | Sir Topas. [_As Sir Topas_] Marry, amen. [_As himself_] I will sir, I will. MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say! CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you. MALVOLIO. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028102 | in Illyria. CLOWN. Well-a-day that you were, sir! MALVOLIO. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. CLOWN. I will help you tot. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028103 | you but counterfeit? MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not. I tell thee true. CLOWN. Nay, Ill neer believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. MALVOLIO. Fool, Ill requite it in the highest degree: I prithee be gone. CLOWN. [_Singing._] _I am gone, sir, and anon, sir, Ill be with you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028104 | again, In a trice, like to the old Vice, Your need to sustain; Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, Cries ah, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad. Adieu, goodman devil._ [_Exit._] SCENE III. Olivias Garden. Enter Sebastian. SEBASTIAN. This is the air; that is the glorious sun, This pearl | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028105 | she gave me, I do feelt and seet, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet tis not madness. Wheres Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service. For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028106 | though my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028107 | ladys mad; yet if twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceive she does. Theres something int That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. Enter Olivia and a Priest. OLIVIA. Blame not this haste of mine. If | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028108 | you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man Into the chantry by: there, before him And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028109 | will our celebration keep According to my birth. What do you say? SEBASTIAN. Ill follow this good man, and go with you, And having sworn truth, ever will be true. OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! [_Exeunt._] ACT V. SCENE I. The Street before Olivias House. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028110 | Enter Clown and Fabian. FABIAN. Now, as thou lovst me, let me see his letter. CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. FABIAN. Anything. CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter. FABIAN. This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and Lords. DUKE. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028111 | friends? CLOWN. Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings. DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends. DUKE. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. CLOWN. No, sir, the worse. DUKE. How can that be? CLOWN. Marry, sir, they praise me, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028112 | and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused. So that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028113 | better for my foes. DUKE. Why, this is excellent. CLOWN. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. DUKE. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; theres gold. CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another. DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel. CLOWN. Put | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028114 | your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. DUKE. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer: theres another. CLOWN. _Primo, secundo, tertio_, is a good play, and the old saying is, the third pays for all; the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028115 | bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mindone, two, three. DUKE. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw. If you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. CLOWN. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028116 | come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [_Exit Clown._] Enter Antonio and Officers. VIOLA. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. DUKE. That face of his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028117 | I do remember well. Yet when I saw it last it was besmeard As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war. A baubling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet, That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028118 | fame and honour on him. Whats the matter? FIRST OFFICER. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the _Phoenix_ and her fraught from Candy, And this is he that did the _Tiger_ board When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him. VIOLA. He did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028119 | me kindness, sir; drew on my side, But in conclusion, put strange speech upon me. I know not what twas, but distraction. DUKE. Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief, What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies? ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028120 | names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsinos enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude seas enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto add | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028121 | My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Drew to defend him when he was beset; Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028122 | grew a twenty years removed thing While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. VIOLA. How can this be? DUKE. When came he to this town? ANTONIO. Today, my lord; and for three months before, No intrim, not a minutes vacancy, Both day and night did we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028123 | keep company. Enter Olivia and Attendants. DUKE. Here comes the Countess, now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me; But more of that anon. Take him aside. OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028124 | not keep promise with me. VIOLA. Madam? DUKE. Gracious Olivia OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord VIOLA. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music. DUKE. Still so cruel? OLIVIA. Still so constant, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028125 | lord. DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfullst offrings hath breathed out That eer devotion tenderd! What shall I do? OLIVIA. Even what it please my lord that shall become him. DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028126 | of death, Kill what I love?a savage jealousy That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still. But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028127 | swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye Where he sits crowned in his masters spite. Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: Ill sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a ravens heart within a dove. VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028128 | thousand deaths would die. OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario? VIOLA. After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than eer I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above Punish my life for tainting of my love. OLIVIA. Ah me, detested! how am I beguild! VIOLA. Who does beguile | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028129 | you? Who does do you wrong? OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. [_Exit an Attendant._] DUKE. [_To Viola._] Come, away! OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. DUKE. Husband? OLIVIA. Ay, husband. Can he that deny? DUKE. Her husband, sirrah? VIOLA. No, my lord, not I. OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028130 | of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou knowst thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fearst. Enter Priest. O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence Here to unfoldthough lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028131 | ripewhat thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me. PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthend by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028132 | me, toward my grave, I have travelled but two hours. DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028133 | meet. VIOLA. My lord, I do protest OLIVIA. O, do not swear. Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear. Enter Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW. For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby. OLIVIA. Whats the matter? SIR ANDREW. Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028134 | the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? SIR ANDREW. The Counts gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but hes the very devil incardinate. DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario? SIR ANDREW. Ods lifelings, here he is!You broke my head for nothing; and that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028135 | that I did, I was set on to dot by Sir Toby. VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair and hurt you not. Enter Sir Toby, drunk, led by the Clown. SIR ANDREW. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028136 | me. I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. DUKE. How now, gentleman? How ist with you? SIR TOBY. Thats all one; has hurt me, and theres th end ont. Sot, didst see | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028137 | Dick Surgeon, sot? CLOWN. O, hes drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i th morning. SIR TOBY. Then hes a rogue, and a passy measures pavin. I hate a drunken rogue. OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them? SIR ANDREW. Ill help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028138 | SIR TOBY. Will you help? An ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull? OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to. [_Exeunt Clown, Fabian, Sir Toby and Sir Andrew._] Enter Sebastian. SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; But had it been the brother of my blood, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028139 | must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago. DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! A natural perspective, that is, and is not! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028140 | SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rackd and torturd me Since I have lost thee. ANTONIO. Sebastian are you? SEBASTIAN. Fearst thou that, Antonio? ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? OLIVIA. Most wonderful! SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028141 | I never had a brother: Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? What name? What parentage? VIOLA. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Such a Sebastian was my brother too: So went | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028142 | he suited to his watery tomb. If spirits can assume both form and suit, You come to fright us. SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad, Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say, Thrice | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028143 | welcome, drowned Viola. VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow. SEBASTIAN. And so had mine. VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years. SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. VIOLA. If nothing lets to make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028144 | us happy both But this my masculine usurpd attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola; which to confirm, Ill bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preservd to serve this noble count. All the occurrence | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028145 | of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. SEBASTIAN. [_To Olivia._] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived: You are betrothd both to a maid and man. DUKE. Be not amazed; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028146 | right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. [_To Viola._] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. VIOLA. And all those sayings will I over-swear, And all those swearings keep as true in soul | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028147 | As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night. DUKE. Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy womans weeds. VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maids garments. He, upon some action, Is now in durance, at Malvolios suit, A gentleman and follower of my ladys. OLIVIA. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028148 | shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither. And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, hes much distract. Enter Clown, with a letter and Fabian. A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his. How does he, sirrah? CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves end as well as a man in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028149 | his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you. I should have given it you today morning, but as a madmans epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered. OLIVIA. Open t, and read it. CLOWN. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman. _By the Lord, madam,_ OLIVIA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028150 | How now, art thou mad? CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow _vox_. OLIVIA. Prithee, read i thy right wits. CLOWN. So I do, madonna. But to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. OLIVIA. [_To Fabian._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028151 | Read it you, sirrah. FABIAN. [_Reads._] _By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028152 | on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio._ OLIVIA. Did he write this? CLOWN. Ay, madam. DUKE. This savours not much of distraction. OLIVIA. See him delivered, Fabian, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028153 | bring him hither. [_Exit Fabian._] My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crown th alliance ont, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost. DUKE. Madam, I am most apt t embrace your offer. [_To Viola._] Your master quits you; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028154 | and for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you calld me master for so long, Here is my hand; you shall from this time be Your masters mistress. OLIVIA. A sister? You are she. Enter Fabian and Malvolio. DUKE. Is this the madman? OLIVIA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028155 | Ay, my lord, this same. How now, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong. OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? No. MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand, Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say tis not your seal, not your invention: You | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028156 | can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-garterd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby, and the lighter people; And acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028157 | sufferd me to be imprisond, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That eer invention played on? Tell me why? OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though I confess, much like the character: But out of question, tis Marias hand. And now I do bethink me, it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028158 | she First told me thou wast mad; then camst in smiling, And in such forms which here were presupposd Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content. This practice hath most shrewdly passd upon thee. But when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. FABIAN. Good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028159 | madam, hear me speak, And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wonderd at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess, myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceivd against him. Maria writ The letter, at Sir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028160 | Tobys great importance, In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was followd May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, If that the injuries be justly weighd That have on both sides passed. OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! CLOWN. Why, some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028161 | thrown upon them. I was one, sir, in this interlude, one Sir Topas, sir, but thats all one. By the Lord, fool, I am not mad. But do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? And you smile not, hes gagged? And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. MALVOLIO. Ill be revenged on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028162 | the whole pack of you. [_Exit._] OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abusd. DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace: He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls.Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence.Cesario, come: For so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028163 | you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsinos mistress, and his fancys queen. [_Exeunt._] Clown sings. _ When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day._ _ But when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028164 | I came to mans estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day._ _ But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day._ _ But when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028165 | I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day._ _ A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But thats all one, our play is done, And well strive to please you every day._ [_Exit._] THE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028166 | TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA Contents ACT I Scene I. Verona. An open place Scene II. The same. The garden of Julias house Scene III. The same. A room in Antonios house ACT II Scene I. Milan. A room in the Dukes palace Scene II. Verona. A room in Julias house Scene III. The same. A street Scene IV. Milan. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028167 | room in the Dukes palace Scene V. The same. A street Scene VI. The same. The Dukes palace Scene VII. Verona. A room in Julias house ACT III Scene I. Milan. An anteroom in the Dukes palace Scene II. The same. A room in the Dukes palace ACT IV Scene I. A forest between Milan and Verona Scene II. Milan. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028168 | The court of the Dukes palace Scene III. The same Scene IV. The same ACT V Scene I. Milan. An abbey Scene II. The same. A room in the Dukes palace Scene III. Frontiers of Mantua. The forest Scene IV. Another part of the forest Dramatis Person DUKE OF MILAN, father to Silvia VALENTINE, one of the two gentlemen PROTEUS, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028169 | one of the two gentlemen ANTONIO, father to Proteus THURIO, a foolish rival to Valentine EGLAMOUR, agent for Silvia in her escape SPEED, a clownish servant to Valentine LANCE, the like to Proteus PANTINO, servant to Antonio HOST, where Julia lodges in Milan OUTLAWS, with Valentine JULIA, a lady of Verona, beloved of Proteus SILVIA, beloved of Valentine LUCETTA, waiting-woman | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028170 | to Julia Servants, Musicians SCENE: Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua ACT I SCENE I. Verona. An open place Enter Valentine and Proteus. VALENTINE. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus. Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Weret not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honoured love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028171 | wonders of the world abroad Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lovst, love still, and thrive therein, Even as I would when I to love begin. PROTEUS. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus when thou haply seest Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel. Wish | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028172 | me partaker in thy happiness 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 headsman, Valentine. VALENTINE. And on a love-book pray for my success? PROTEUS. Upon some love Ill pray for thee. VALENTINE. Thats on some shallow story of deep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028173 | love, How young Leander crossed the Hellespont. PROTEUS. Thats a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over shoes in love. VALENTINE. Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. PROTEUS. Over the boots? Nay, give me not the boots. VALENTINE. No, I will not, for it boots | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028174 | thee not. PROTEUS. What? VALENTINE. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moments 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, Or else a wit by folly vanquished. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028175 | So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. VALENTINE. So, by your circumstance, I fear youll prove. PROTEUS. Tis love you cavil at. I am not Love. VALENTINE. Love is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise. PROTEUS. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028176 | bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. VALENTINE. 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 turned to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028177 | 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 shipped. PROTEUS. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. VALENTINE. Sweet Proteus, no. Now let us take our leave. To Milan let me hear from thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028178 | by letters Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend; And I likewise will visit thee with mine. PROTEUS. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan. VALENTINE. As much to you at home, and so farewell. [_Exit._] PROTEUS. He after honour hunts, I after love. He leaves his friends to dignify them | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028179 | more; 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. Enter Speed. SPEED. Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master? PROTEUS. But now he parted hence to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028180 | embark for Milan. SPEED. Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already, And I have played the sheep in losing him. PROTEUS. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be a while away. SPEED. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and I a sheep? PROTEUS. I do. SPEED. Why then, my horns are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028181 | his horns, whether I wake or sleep. PROTEUS. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. SPEED. This proves me still a sheep. PROTEUS. True, and thy master a shepherd. SPEED. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. PROTEUS. It shall go hard but Ill prove it by another. SPEED. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028182 | the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. Therefore I am no sheep. PROTEUS. 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. SPEED. Such another proof will make me cry | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028183 | baa. PROTEUS. But dost thou hear? Gavst 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 labour. PROTEUS. Heres too small a pasture for such store of muttons. SPEED. If the ground be overcharged, you were | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028184 | best stick her. PROTEUS. Nay, in that you are astray; twere best pound you. SPEED. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter. PROTEUS. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold. SPEED. From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over, Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028185 | PROTEUS. But what said she? SPEED. [_Nods his head_.] Ay. PROTEUS. NodAy. Why, thats noddy. SPEED. You mistook, sir. I say she did nod, and you ask me if she did nod; and I say Ay. PROTEUS. And that set together is noddy. SPEED. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028186 | No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. SPEED. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. PROTEUS. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? SPEED. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly, having nothing but the word noddy for my pains. PROTEUS. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. SPEED. And yet it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028187 | cannot overtake your slow purse. PROTEUS. Come, come, open the matter; in brief, what said she? SPEED. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered. PROTEUS. [_Giving him a coin_.] Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she? SPEED. Truly, sir, I think youll hardly win her. PROTEUS. Why? Couldst thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028188 | 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 shell prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for shes as hard as steel. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028189 | PROTEUS. 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, Ill commend you to my master. PROTEUS. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wrack, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028190 | 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, Receiving them from such a worthless post. [_Exit._] SCENE II. The same. The garden of Julias house Enter Julia and Lucetta. JULIA. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou then counsel me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028191 | to fall in love? LUCETTA. Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully. JULIA. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love? LUCETTA. Please you, repeat their names, Ill show my mind According to my shallow simple skill. JULIA. What thinkst thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? LUCETTA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028192 | As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine; But, were I you, he never should be mine. JULIA. What thinkst thou of the rich Mercatio? LUCETTA. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so-so. JULIA. What thinkst thou of the gentle Proteus? LUCETTA. Lord, Lord, to see what folly reigns in us! JULIA. How now? What means this passion at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028193 | his name? LUCETTA. Pardon, dear madam, tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. JULIA. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? LUCETTA. Then thus: of many good I think him best. JULIA. Your reason? LUCETTA. I have no other but a womans reason: I think him so because | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028194 | I think him so. JULIA. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? LUCETTA. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. JULIA. Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me. LUCETTA. Yet he of all the rest I think best loves ye. JULIA. His little speaking shows his love but small. LUCETTA. Fire thats | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028195 | closest kept burns most of all. JULIA. They do not love that do not show their love. LUCETTA. O, they love least that let men know their love. JULIA. I would I knew his mind. LUCETTA. Peruse this paper, madam. [_Gives her a letter._] JULIA. _To Julia_Say, from whom? LUCETTA. That the contents will show. JULIA. Say, say, who gave | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028196 | it thee? LUCETTA. Sir Valentines page, and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, Did in your name receive it. Pardon the fault, I pray. JULIA. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth? Now trust me, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028197 | tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. There, take the paper; see it be returned, Or else return no more into my sight. LUCETTA. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. JULIA. Will ye be gone? LUCETTA. That you may ruminate. [_Exit._] JULIA. And yet I would I had oerlooked the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028198 | letter. It were a shame to call her back again And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid And would not force the letter to my view, Since maids in modesty say No to that Which they would have the profferer construe Ay. Fie, fie, how wayward | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028199 | is this foolish love That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! 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 And ask remission | 60 | gutenberg |
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