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twg_000000028200 | for my folly past. What ho! Lucetta! Enter Lucetta. LUCETTA. What would your ladyship? JULIA. Is t near dinner time? LUCETTA. I would it were, That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid. [_Drops and picks up the letter._] JULIA. What ist that you took up so gingerly? LUCETTA. Nothing. JULIA. Why didst thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028201 | stoop, then? LUCETTA. To take a paper up that I let fall. JULIA. And is that paper nothing? LUCETTA. Nothing concerning me. JULIA. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. LUCETTA. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter. JULIA. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. LUCETTA. That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028202 | I might sing it, madam, to a tune. Give me a note. Your ladyship can set JULIA. As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of Light o Love. LUCETTA. It is too heavy for so light a tune. JULIA. Heavy? Belike it hath some burden then? LUCETTA. Ay, and melodious were it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028203 | would you sing it. JULIA. And why not you? LUCETTA. I cannot reach so high. JULIA. Lets see your song. [_Taking the letter_.] How now, minion! LUCETTA. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out. And yet methinks I do not like this tune. JULIA. You do not? LUCETTA. No, madam, it is too sharp. JULIA. You, minion, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028204 | are too saucy. LUCETTA. Nay, now you are too flat And mar the concord with too harsh a descant. There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. JULIA. The mean is drowned with your unruly bass. LUCETTA. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. JULIA. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation! [_Tears | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028205 | the letter_.] Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie. You would be fingering them to anger me. LUCETTA. She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased To be so angered with another letter. [_Exit._] JULIA. Nay, would I were so angered with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! Injurious wasps, to feed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028206 | on such sweet honey And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! Ill kiss each several paper for amends. Look, here is writ _kind Julia_. Unkind Julia! As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ _love-wounded Proteus_. Poor wounded name, my bosom as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028207 | a bed Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly healed; 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 Except mine own name. That some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028208 | And throw it thence into the raging sea. Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ: _Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia._ That Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028209 | you will. Enter Lucetta. LUCETTA. Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays. JULIA. Well, let us go. LUCETTA. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? JULIA. If you respect them, best to take them up. LUCETTA. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down. Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. [_Picks up pieces of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028210 | the letter._] JULIA. I see you have a months mind to them. LUCETTA. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you judge I wink. JULIA. Come, come, willt please you go? [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. A room in Antonios house Enter Antonio and Pantino. ANTONIO. Tell me, Pantino, what sad talk was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028211 | that Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? PANTINO. Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. ANTONIO. Why, what of him? PANTINO. He wondered that your lordship 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; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028212 | Some to discover islands far away; 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, Which would be great impeachment to his age In having known no travel in his youth. ANTONIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028213 | Nor needst thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have considered well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutored in the world. Experience is by industry achieved And perfected by the swift course of time. Then tell me whither were I best to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028214 | send him? PANTINO. I think your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the Emperor in his royal court. ANTONIO. I know it well. PANTINO. Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither. There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028215 | and nobleness of birth. ANTONIO. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advised, 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 Emperors court. PANTINO. Tomorrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso With other gentlemen of good esteem Are journeying to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028216 | salute the Emperor And to commend their service to his will. ANTONIO. Good company. With them shall Proteus go. Enter Proteus reading a letter. And in good time! Now will we break with him. PROTEUS. Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honours pawn. O, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028217 | that our fathers would applaud our loves To seal our happiness with their consents. O heavenly Julia! ANTONIO. How now? What letter are you reading there? PROTEUS. Mayt please your lordship, tis a word or two Of commendations sent from Valentine, Delivered by a friend that came from him. ANTONIO. Lend me the letter. Let me see what news. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028218 | 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. ANTONIO. And how stand you affected to his wish? PROTEUS. As one relying on your lordships will, And not depending on his friendly wish. ANTONIO. My will is something | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028219 | sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed, For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the Emperors court. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. Tomorrow be in readiness to go. Excuse it not, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028220 | I am peremptory. PROTEUS. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; Please you deliberate a day or two. ANTONIO. Look what thou wantst shall be sent after thee. No more of stay. Tomorrow thou must go. Come on, Pantino, you shall be employed To hasten on his expedition. [_Exeunt Antonio and Pantino._] PROTEUS. Thus have I shunned the fire | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028221 | for fear of burning And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned. I feared to show my father Julias 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 The uncertain glory of an April day, Which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028222 | now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by an by a cloud takes all away. Enter Pantino. PANTINO. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you. He is in haste. Therefore, I pray you, go. PROTEUS. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers No. [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. Milan. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028223 | room in the Dukes palace Enter Valentine and Speed. SPEED. Sir, your glove. VALENTINE. Not mine. My gloves are on. SPEED. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one. VALENTINE. Ha? Let me see. Ay, give it me, its mine. Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia! SPEED. [_Calling_.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! VALENTINE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028224 | How now, sirrah? SPEED. She is not within hearing, sir. VALENTINE. Why, sir, who bade you call her? SPEED. Your worship, sir, or else I mistook. VALENTINE. Well, youll still be too forward. SPEED. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. VALENTINE. Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? SPEED. She that your worship | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028225 | loves? VALENTINE. Why, how know you that I am in love? SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC; to weep, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028226 | like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028227 | when you looked sadly, it was for want of money. And now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. VALENTINE. Are all these things perceived in me? SPEED. They are all perceived without ye. VALENTINE. Without me? They cannot. SPEED. Without you? Nay, thats certain, for without you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028228 | were so simple, none else would. But you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady. VALENTINE. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? SPEED. She that you gaze | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028229 | on so as she sits at supper? VALENTINE. Hast thou observed that? Even she I mean. SPEED. Why, sir, I know her not. VALENTINE. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowst her not? SPEED. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? VALENTINE. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough. VALENTINE. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028230 | dost thou know? SPEED. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured. VALENTINE. I mean that her beauty is exquisite but her favour infinite. SPEED. Thats because the one is painted, and the other out of all count. VALENTINE. How painted? And how out of count? SPEED. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028231 | counts of her beauty. VALENTINE. How esteemst thou me? I account of her beauty. SPEED. You never saw her since she was deformed. VALENTINE. How long hath she been deformed? SPEED. Ever since you loved her. VALENTINE. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still I see her beautiful. SPEED. If you love her, you cannot see | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028232 | her. VALENTINE. Why? SPEED. Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes, or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered! VALENTINE. What should I see then? SPEED. Your own present folly and her passing deformity; for he, being in love, could not see to garter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028233 | his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. VALENTINE. Belike, boy, then you are in love, for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. SPEED. True, sir, I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028234 | for yours. VALENTINE. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. SPEED. I would you were set, so your affection would cease. VALENTINE. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. SPEED. And have you? VALENTINE. I have. SPEED. Are they not lamely writ? VALENTINE. No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028235 | here she comes. Enter Silvia. SPEED. [_Aside_.] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her. VALENTINE. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows. SPEED. [_Aside_.] O, give ye good een! Heres a million of manners. SILVIA. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. SPEED. [_Aside_.] He should give her interest, and she gives it him. VALENTINE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028236 | As you enjoined me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours, Which I was much unwilling to proceed in But for my duty to your ladyship. [_Gives her a letter._] SILVIA. I thank you, gentle servant, tis very clerkly done. VALENTINE. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off, For, being ignorant to whom it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028237 | goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. SILVIA. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? VALENTINE. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much. And yet SILVIA. A pretty period. Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it. And yet I care not. And yet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028238 | take this again. [_Offers him the letter._] And yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. SPEED. [_Aside_.] And yet you will; and yet another yet. VALENTINE. What means your ladyship? Do you not like it? SILVIA. Yes, yes, the lines are very quaintly writ, But, since unwillingly, take them again. Nay, take them. [_Offers the letter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028239 | again._] VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you. SILVIA. 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. VALENTINE. Please you, Ill write your ladyship another. SILVIA. And when its writ, for my sake read it over, And if it please you, so; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028240 | if not, why, so. VALENTINE. If it please me, madam? What then? SILVIA. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour. And so good morrow, servant. [_Exit._] SPEED. [_Aside_.] O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a mans face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028241 | 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? VALENTINE. How now, sir? What are you reasoning with yourself? SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming. Tis you that have the reason. VALENTINE. To do what? SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028242 | Silvia. VALENTINE. To whom? SPEED. To yourself. Why, she woos you by a figure. VALENTINE. What figure? SPEED. By a letter, I should say. VALENTINE. Why, she hath not writ to me. SPEED. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? VALENTINE. No, believe me. SPEED. No believing you indeed, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028243 | sir. But did you perceive her earnest? VALENTINE. She gave me none, except an angry word. SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter. VALENTINE. Thats the letter I writ to her friend. SPEED. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. VALENTINE. I would it were no worse. SPEED. Ill warrant you, tis as well. For often | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028244 | have you writ to her, and she, in modesty Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply, Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse you, sir? Tis dinner time. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028245 | VALENTINE. I have dined. SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir, though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress! Be moved, be moved. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Verona. A room in Julias house Enter Proteus and Julia. PROTEUS. Have patience, gentle Julia. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028246 | JULIA. I must, where is no remedy. PROTEUS. When possibly I can, I will return. JULIA. If you turn not, you will return the sooner. Keep this remembrance for thy Julias sake. [_Gives him a ring._] PROTEUS. Why, then well make exchange. Here, take you this. [_Gives her a ring._] JULIA. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028247 | Here is my hand for my true constancy. And when that hour oerslips me in the day Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my loves forgetfulness. My father stays my coming; answer not. The tide is nownay, not thy tide of tears, That tide will stay me longer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028248 | 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. Enter Pantino. PANTINO. Sir Proteus, you are stayed for. PROTEUS. Go, I come, I come. Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. A street | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028249 | Enter Lance with his dog Crab. LANCE. Nay, twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Lances have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperials court. I think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028250 | my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebblestone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting. Why, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028251 | grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, Ill show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father. No, this left shoe is my father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother. Nay, that cannot be so neither. Yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. This shoe | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028252 | with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on t, there tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand. This hat is Nan, our maid. I am the dog. No, the dog is himself, and I am the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028253 | dog. O, the dog is me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father: Father, your blessing. Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping. Now should I kiss my father. Well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O, that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028254 | kiss her. Why there tis; heres my mothers breath up and down. Now come I to my sister. Mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. Enter Pantino. PANTINO. Lance, away, away! Aboard! Thy master is shipped, and thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028255 | art to post after with oars. Whats the matter? Why weepst thou, man? Away, ass. Youll lose the tide if you tarry any longer. LANCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost, for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. PANTINO. Whats the unkindest tide? LANCE. Why, he thats tied here, Crab, my dog. PANTINO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028256 | Tut, man, I mean thoult lose the flood, and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy servicewhy dost thou stop my mouth? LANCE. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. PANTINO. Where should I lose my tongue? LANCE. In thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028257 | tale. PANTINO. In thy tail! LANCE. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied? Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. PANTINO. Come, come away, man. I was sent to call | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028258 | thee. LANCE. Sir, call me what thou darst. PANTINO. Will thou go? LANCE. Well, I will go. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Milan. A room in the Dukes palace Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio and Speed. SILVIA. Servant! VALENTINE. Mistress? SPEED. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. VALENTINE. Ay, boy, its for love. SPEED. Not of you. VALENTINE. Of my mistress, then. SPEED. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028259 | Twere good you knocked him. SILVIA. Servant, you are sad. VALENTINE. Indeed, madam, I seem so. THURIO. Seem you that you are not? VALENTINE. Haply I do. THURIO. So do counterfeits. VALENTINE. So do you. THURIO. What seem I that I am not? VALENTINE. Wise. THURIO. What instance of the contrary? VALENTINE. Your folly. THURIO. And how quote you my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028260 | folly? VALENTINE. I quote it in your jerkin. THURIO. My jerkin is a doublet. VALENTINE. Well, then, Ill double your folly. THURIO. How! SILVIA. What, angry, Sir Thurio? Do you change colour? VALENTINE. Give him leave, madam, he is a kind of chameleon. THURIO. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your air. VALENTINE. You | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028261 | have said, sir. THURIO. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. VALENTINE. I know it well, sir. You always end ere you begin. SILVIA. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. VALENTINE. Tis indeed, madam, we thank the giver. SILVIA. Who is that, servant? VALENTINE. Yourself, sweet lady, for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028262 | his wit from your ladyships looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company. THURIO. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. VALENTINE. I know it well, sir. You have an exchequer of words and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers, for it appears by their bare liveries | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028263 | that they live by your bare words. SILVIA. No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father. Enter Duke. DUKE. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father is in good health. What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news? VALENTINE. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028264 | thence. DUKE. Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman? VALENTINE. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. DUKE. Hath he not a son? VALENTINE. Ay, my good lord, a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. DUKE. You know him well? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028265 | VALENTINE. I knew him as myself, for from our infancy We have conversed and spent our hours together. And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus, for thats his name, Made use and fair advantage of his days: His years but young, but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028266 | his experience old; His head unmellowed, but his judgement 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, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028267 | love As meet to be an emperors counsellor. Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me With commendation from great potentates, And here he means to spend his time awhile. I think tis no unwelcome news to you. VALENTINE. Should I have wished a thing, it had been he. DUKE. Welcome him then according to his worth. Silvia, I speak | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028268 | to you, and you, Sir Thurio. For Valentine, I need not cite him to it. I will send him hither to you presently. [_Exit._] VALENTINE. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me but that his mistresss Did hold his eyes locked in her crystal looks. SILVIA. Belike that now she hath enfranchised them Upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028269 | some other pawn for fealty. VALENTINE. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. SILVIA. Nay, then, he should be blind, and being blind How could he see his way to seek out you? VALENTINE. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes. THURIO. They say that Love hath not an eye at all. VALENTINE. To see such lovers, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028270 | Thurio, as yourself. Upon a homely object, Love can wink. SILVIA. Have done, have done. Here comes the gentleman. Enter Proteus. VALENTINE. Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you Confirm his welcome with some special favour. SILVIA. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wished to hear from. VALENTINE. Mistress, it is. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028271 | Sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. SILVIA. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. PROTEUS. Not so, sweet lady, but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. VALENTINE. Leave off discourse of disability. Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. PROTEUS. My duty will I boast of, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028272 | nothing else. SILVIA. And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. PROTEUS. Ill die on him that says so but yourself. SILVIA. That you are welcome? PROTEUS. That you are worthless. Enter Servant. SERVANT. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. SILVIA. I wait upon his pleasure. [_Exit Servant._] Come, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028273 | Sir Thurio, Go with me.Once more, new servant, welcome. Ill leave you to confer of home affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. PROTEUS. Well both attend upon your ladyship. [_Exeunt Silvia and Thurio._] VALENTINE. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? PROTEUS. Your friends are well and have them much commended. VALENTINE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028274 | And how do yours? PROTEUS. I left them all in health. VALENTINE. How does your lady? And how thrives your love? PROTEUS. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know you joy not in a love-discourse. VALENTINE. Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now. I have done penance for contemning Love, Whose high imperious thoughts have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028275 | punished me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes And made them watchers of mine own hearts sorrow. O gentle Proteus, Loves a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me as I confess There is no woe to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028276 | his correction, 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. PROTEUS. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so? VALENTINE. Even she; and is she not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028277 | a heavenly saint? PROTEUS. No, but she is an earthly paragon. VALENTINE. Call her divine. PROTEUS. I will not flatter her. VALENTINE. O, flatter me, for love delights in praises. PROTEUS. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you. VALENTINE. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028278 | her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. PROTEUS. Except my mistress. VALENTINE. Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love. PROTEUS. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? VALENTINE. And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear my ladys train, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028279 | 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. PROTEUS. Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this? VALENTINE. Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; She is alone. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028280 | Then let her alone. VALENTINE. Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own, 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 seest me dote upon my love. My foolish | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028281 | rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along, and I must after, For love, thou knowst, is full of jealousy. PROTEUS. But she loves you? VALENTINE. Ay, and we are betrothed; nay more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determined of: how I must climb her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028282 | window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and greed on for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. PROTEUS. Go on before; I shall enquire you forth. I must unto the road to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use, And then Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028283 | presently attend you. VALENTINE. Will you make haste? PROTEUS. I will. [_Exit Valentine._] Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine eye, or Valentines praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028284 | reasonless to reason thus? She is fair; and so is Julia that I love That I did love, for now my love is thawed, Which like a waxen image gainst a fire Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was wont. O, but I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028285 | love his lady too too much, And thats the reason I love him so little. How shall I dote on her with more advice That thus without advice begin to love her? Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled my reasons light; But when I look on her perfections, There is no reason but I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028286 | shall be blind. If I can check my erring love, I will; If not, to compass her Ill use my skill. [_Exit._] SCENE V. The same. A street Enter Speed and Lance with his dog Crab. SPEED. Lance, by mine honesty, welcome to Milan! LANCE. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028287 | a man is never undone till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess say Welcome. SPEED. Come on, you madcap. Ill to the alehouse with you presently, where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028288 | Julia? LANCE. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. SPEED. But shall she marry him? LANCE. No. SPEED. How then? Shall he marry her? LANCE. No, neither. SPEED. What, are they broken? LANCE. No, they are both as whole as a fish. SPEED. Why then, how stands the matter with them? LANCE. Marry, thus: when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028289 | it stands well with him, it stands well with her. SPEED. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. LANCE. What a block art thou that thou canst not! My staff understands me. SPEED. What thou sayst? LANCE. Ay, and what I do too. Look thee, Ill but lean, and my staff understands me. SPEED. It stands under thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028290 | indeed. LANCE. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. SPEED. But tell me true, willt be a match? LANCE. Ask my dog. If he say Ay, it will; if he say No, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. SPEED. The conclusion is, then, that it will. LANCE. Thou shalt never get such a secret | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028291 | from me but by a parable. SPEED. Tis well that I get it so. But, Lance, how sayst thou that my master is become a notable lover? LANCE. I never knew him otherwise. SPEED. Than how? LANCE. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. SPEED. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakst me. LANCE. Why, fool, I meant not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028292 | thee, I meant thy master. SPEED. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. LANCE. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. SPEED. Why? LANCE. Because thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028293 | hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go? SPEED. At thy service. [_Exeunt._] SCENE VI. The same. The Dukes palace Enter Proteus alone. PROTEUS. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028294 | And een that power which gave me first my oath Provokes me to this threefold perjury. Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear. O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned, Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. At first I did adore a twinkling star, But now I worship a celestial sun. Unheedful vows may heedfully be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028295 | broken, And he wants wit that wants resolved will To learn his wit t exchange the bad for better. Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028296 | lose, and Valentine I lose; If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; If I lose them, thus find I by their loss, For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia. I to myself am dearer than a friend, For love is still most precious in itself, And Silviawitness heaven that made her fair Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028297 | will forget that Julia is alive, Remembering that my love to her is dead; And Valentine Ill hold an enemy, 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 Silvias chamber window, Myself in counsel, his competitor. Now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028298 | presently Ill give her father notice Of their disguising and pretended flight, Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine, For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter. But Valentine being gone, Ill quickly cross By some sly trick blunt Thurios dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028299 | [_Exit._] SCENE VII. Verona. A room in Julias house Enter Julia and Lucetta. JULIA. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me, And evn in kind love I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly charactered and engraved, To lesson me and tell me some good mean How with my honour I may undertake A journey | 60 | gutenberg |
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