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twg_000000028300 | to my loving Proteus. LUCETTA. Alas, the way is wearisome and long. JULIA. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; Much less shall she that hath Loves wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. LUCETTA. Better forbear till Proteus make return. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028301 | JULIA. O, knowst thou not his looks are my souls 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 As seek to quench the fire of love with words. LUCETTA. I do not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028302 | seek to quench your loves hot fire, But qualify the fires extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. JULIA. The more thou dammst it up, the more it burns. The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou knowst, being stopped, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028303 | th enamelled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean. Then let me go and hinder not my course. Ill be as patient as a gentle stream And make a pastime of each weary step Till the last step have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028304 | brought me to my love, And there Ill rest as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium. LUCETTA. But in what habit will you go along? JULIA. 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. LUCETTA. Why then, your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028305 | ladyship must cut your hair. JULIA. No, girl, Ill 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. LUCETTA. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? JULIA. That fits as well as Tell me, good my lord, What compass will you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028306 | wear your farthingale? Why een what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta. LUCETTA. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. JULIA. Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favoured. LUCETTA. A round hose, madam, nows not worth a pin Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. JULIA. Lucetta, as thou lovst me, let me have What thou thinkst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028307 | meet and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me it will make me scandalized. LUCETTA. If you think so, then stay at home and go not. JULIA. Nay, that I will not. LUCETTA. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028308 | when you come, No matter whos displeased when you are gone. I fear me he will scarce be pleased withal. JULIA. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love, Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. LUCETTA. All these are servants to deceitful men. JULIA. Base men | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028309 | that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus birth. His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. LUCETTA. Pray heavn he prove so when you come to him. JULIA. Now, as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028310 | thou lovst 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 To furnish me upon my longing journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028311 | my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come, answer not, but to it presently. I am impatient of my tarriance. [_Exeunt._] ACT III SCENE I. Milan. An anteroom in the Dukes palace Enter Duke, Thurio and Proteus. DUKE. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about. [_Exit Thurio._] Now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028312 | tell me, Proteus, whats your will with me? PROTEUS. My gracious lord, that which I would discover The law of friendship bids me to conceal, But when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am, My duty pricks me on to utter that Which else no worldly good should draw from me. Know, worthy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028313 | 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, And should she thus be stoln away from you, It would be much vexation to your age. Thus, for my dutys sake, I rather | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028314 | chose To cross my friend in his intended drift Than, by concealing it, heap on your head A pack of sorrows which would press you down, Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. DUKE. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply when they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028315 | 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 A rashness that I ever yet have shunned I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. And that thou mayst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028316 | perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be conveyed away. PROTEUS. Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028317 | youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently, Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly That my discovery be not aimed at; For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretence. DUKE. Upon mine honour, he shall never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028318 | know That I had any light from thee of this. PROTEUS. Adieu, my lord, Sir Valentine is coming. [_Exit._] Enter Valentine. DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? VALENTINE. Please it your Grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them. DUKE. Be they of much import? VALENTINE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028319 | The tenor 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 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028320 | VALENTINE. I know it well, my lord, and sure the match Were rich and honourable. Besides, the gentleman 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, Neither regarding that she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028321 | is my child Nor fearing me as if I were her father; And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherished by her childlike duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife And turn her out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028322 | to who will take her in. Then let her beauty be her wedding dower, For me and my possessions she esteems not. VALENTINE. What would your Grace have me to do in this? DUKE. There is a lady of Verona here Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence. Now therefore would I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028323 | have thee to my tutor 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. VALENTINE. Win her with gifts if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often in their silent kind More than quick words do move a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028324 | womans mind. DUKE. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. VALENTINE. A woman sometime scorns what best contents her. Send her another; never give her oer, For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you. If she do chide, tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028325 | not to have you gone, Forwhy the fools are mad if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For Get you gone she doth not mean Away! Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though neer so black, say they have angels faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man If with his tongue | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028326 | 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. VALENTINE. Why then, I would resort to her by night. DUKE. Ay, but the doors be locked and keys kept safe, That no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028327 | man hath recourse to her by night. VALENTINE. What lets but one may enter at her window? DUKE. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. VALENTINE. Why, then a ladder quaintly made of cords To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028328 | serve to scale another Heros tower, So bold Leander would adventure it. DUKE. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. VALENTINE. When would you use it? Pray, sir, tell me that. DUKE. This very night; for Love is like a child That longs for everything that he can come by. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028329 | VALENTINE. By seven oclock Ill get you such a ladder. DUKE. But, hark thee: I will go to her alone; How shall I best convey the ladder thither? VALENTINE. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length. DUKE. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? VALENTINE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028330 | Ay, my good lord. DUKE. Then let me see thy cloak; Ill get me one of such another length. VALENTINE. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. DUKE. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. [_Takes Valentines cloak and finds a letter and a rope ladder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028331 | concealed under it._] What letter is this same? Whats here?_To Silvia?_ And here an engine fit for my proceeding. Ill be so bold to break the seal for once. [_Reads_.] _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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028332 | where, senseless, they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blest them, Because myself do want my servants fortune. I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should be._ Whats here? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028333 | [_Reads_.] _Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee._ Tis so; and heres the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phathonfor thou art Merops son Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder, overweening slave, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028334 | And think my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence. Thank me for this more than for all the favours Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee. But if thou linger in my territories Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028335 | the love I ever bore my daughter or thyself. Begone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, But, as thou lovst thy life, make speed from hence. [_Exit._] VALENTINE. And why not death, rather than living torment? To die is to be banished from myself, And Silvia is myself; banished from her Is self from selfa deadly banishment. What light | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028336 | is light, if Silvia be not seen? 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. Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028337 | me to look upon. She is my essence, and I leave to be If I be not by her fair influence Fostered, illumined, cherished, kept alive. 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. Enter Proteus and Lance. PROTEUS. Run, boy, run, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028338 | run, seek him out. LANCE. So-ho, so-ho! PROTEUS. What seest thou? LANCE. Him we go to find. Theres not a hair on s head but tis a Valentine. PROTEUS. Valentine? VALENTINE. No. PROTEUS. Who then? His spirit? VALENTINE. Neither. PROTEUS. What then? VALENTINE. Nothing. LANCE. Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike? PROTEUS. Who wouldst thou strike? LANCE. Nothing. PROTEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028339 | Villain, forbear. LANCE. Why, sir, Ill strike nothing. I pray you PROTEUS. Sirrah, I say, forbear.Friend Valentine, a word. VALENTINE. My ears are stopped and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possessed them. PROTEUS. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad. VALENTINE. Is Silvia dead? PROTEUS. No, Valentine. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028340 | VALENTINE. No Valentine indeed for sacred Silvia. Hath she forsworn me? PROTEUS. No, Valentine. VALENTINE. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. What is your news? LANCE. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished. PROTEUS. That thou art banishedO, thats the news From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. VALENTINE. O, I have fed upon this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028341 | woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished? PROTEUS. Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom Which unreversed stands in effectual force A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears; Those at her fathers churlish feet she tendered, With them, upon her knees, her humble self, Wringing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028342 | her hands, whose whiteness so became them As if but now they waxed pale for woe. But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; But Valentine, if he be taen, must die. Besides, her intercession chafed him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028343 | prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there. VALENTINE. No more, unless the next word that thou speakst Have some malignant power upon my life. If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour. PROTEUS. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028344 | which thou lamentst. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lovers 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028345 | delivered Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. The time now serves not to expostulate. Come, Ill convey thee through the city-gate, And, ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy love affairs. As thou lovst Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me. VALENTINE. I pray thee, Lance, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028346 | an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste and meet me at the North Gate. PROTEUS. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. VALENTINE. O, my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! [_Exeunt Valentine and Proteus._] LANCE. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028347 | but thats all one if he be but one knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in love, yet I am in love, but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me, nor who tis I love; and yet tis a woman, but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet tis a milkmaid; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028348 | yet tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet tis a maid, for she is her masters maid and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. [_Pulls out a paper_.] Here is the cate-log of her condition. _Imprimis, She can fetch and carry_. Why, a horse can do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028349 | no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch but only carry; therefore is she better than a jade. _Item, She can milk_. Look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. Enter Speed. SPEED. How now, Signior Lance? What news with your mastership? LANCE. With my masters ship? Why, it is at sea. SPEED. Well, your old vice still: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028350 | mistake the word. What news, then, in your paper? LANCE. The blackest news that ever thou heardst. SPEED. Why, man? How black? LANCE. Why, as black as ink. SPEED. Let me read them. LANCE. Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou canst not read. SPEED. Thou liest. I can. LANCE. I will try thee. Tell me this, who begot thee? SPEED. Marry, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028351 | the son of my grandfather. LANCE. O, illiterate loiterer! It was the son of thy grandmother. This proves that thou canst not read. SPEED. Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. LANCE. [_Gives him the paper_.] There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed. SPEED. _Imprimis, She can milk._ LANCE. Ay, that she can. SPEED. _Item, She brews good ale._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028352 | LANCE. And thereof comes the proverb, Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. SPEED. _Item, She can sew._ LANCE. Thats as much as to say, Can she so? SPEED. _Item, She can knit._ LANCE. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? SPEED. _Item, She can wash and scour._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028353 | LANCE. A special virtue, for then she need not be washed and scoured. SPEED. _Item, She can spin._ LANCE. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. SPEED. _Item, She hath many nameless virtues._ LANCE. Thats as much as to say, bastard virtues, that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028354 | names. SPEED. Here follow her vices. LANCE. Close at the heels of her virtues. SPEED. _Item, She is not to be kissed fasting in respect of her breath._ LANCE. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. SPEED. _Item, She hath a sweet mouth._ LANCE. That makes amends for her sour breath. SPEED. _Item, She doth talk | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028355 | in her sleep._ LANCE. Its no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. SPEED. _Item, She is slow in words._ LANCE. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a womans only virtue. I pray thee, out witht, and place it for her chief virtue. SPEED. _Item, She is proud._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028356 | LANCE. Out with that too; it was Eves legacy and cannot be taen from her. SPEED. _Item, She hath no teeth._ LANCE. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. SPEED. _Item, She is curst._ LANCE. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. SPEED. _Item, She will often praise her liquor._ LANCE. If her liquor | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028357 | be good, she shall; if she will not, I will, for good things should be praised. SPEED. _Item, She is too liberal._ LANCE. Of her tongue she cannot, for thats writ down she is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that Ill keep shut. Now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028358 | SPEED. _Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults._ LANCE. Stop there; Ill have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. SPEED. _Item, She hath more hair than wit_ LANCE. More hair than wit. It may be; Ill prove it: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028359 | the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. Whats next? SPEED. _And more faults than hairs._ LANCE. Thats monstrous! O, that that were out! SPEED. _And more wealth than faults._ LANCE. Why, that word makes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028360 | the faults gracious. Well, Ill have her; an if it be a match, as nothing is impossible SPEED. What then? LANCE. Why, then will I tell thee that thy master stays for thee at the North Gate. SPEED. For me? LANCE. For thee? Ay, who art thou? He hath stayed for a better man than thee. SPEED. And must I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028361 | go to him? LANCE. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn. SPEED. Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters! [_Exit._] LANCE. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter; an unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. Ill after, to rejoice in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028362 | boys correction. [_Exit._] SCENE II. The same. A room in the Dukes palace Enter Duke and Thurio. DUKE. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you Now Valentine is banished from her sight. THURIO. Since his exile she hath despised me most, Forsworn my company and railed at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her. DUKE. This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028363 | weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an hours heat Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. Enter Proteus. How now, Sir Proteus? Is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone? PROTEUS. Gone, my good lord. DUKE. My daughter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028364 | takes his going grievously. PROTEUS. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. 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. PROTEUS. Longer than I prove loyal to your Grace Let me not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028365 | live to look upon your Grace. DUKE. Thou knowst how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter? PROTEUS. I do, my lord. DUKE. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will? PROTEUS. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. DUKE. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028366 | might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio? PROTEUS. The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, Three things that women highly hold in hate. DUKE. Ay, but shell think that it is spoke in hate. PROTEUS. Ay, if his enemy deliver it; Therefore it must with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028367 | circumstance be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. DUKE. Then you must undertake to slander him. PROTEUS. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028368 | indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. PROTEUS. You have prevailed, my lord. If I can do it By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him. But say this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. THURIO. Therefore, as you unwind her love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028369 | from him, Lest it should ravel and be good to none, You must provide to bottom it on me, Which must be done by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine. DUKE. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind Because we know, on Valentines report, You are already Loves firm votary And cannot soon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028370 | revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friends sake, will be glad of you Where you may temper her by your persuasion To hate young Valentine and love my friend. PROTEUS. As much as I can do I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028371 | will effect. But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough. You must lay lime to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. DUKE. Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. PROTEUS. Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Write till your ink | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028372 | 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, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire-lamenting elegies, Visit by night your ladys chamber-window With some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028373 | sweet consort; to their instruments Tune a deploring dump; the nights dead silence Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her. DUKE. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. THURIO. And thy advice this night Ill put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028374 | well skilled in music. I have a sonnet that will serve the turn To give the onset to thy good advice. DUKE. About it, gentlemen! PROTEUS. Well wait upon your Grace till after supper, And afterward determine our proceedings. DUKE. Even now about it! I will pardon you. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. A forest between Milan and Verona Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028375 | certain Outlaws. FIRST OUTLAW. Fellows, stand fast. I see a passenger. SECOND OUTLAW. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with em. Enter Valentine and Speed. THIRD OUTLAW. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye. If not, well make you sit, and rifle you. SPEED. Sir, we are undone: these are the villains That all the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028376 | travellers do fear so much. VALENTINE. My friends FIRST OUTLAW. Thats not so, sir. We are your enemies. SECOND OUTLAW. Peace! Well hear him. THIRD OUTLAW. Ay, by my beard, will we, for he is a proper man. VALENTINE. Then know that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am crossed with adversity; My riches are these poor | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028377 | habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have. SECOND OUTLAW. Whither travel you? VALENTINE. To Verona. FIRST OUTLAW. Whence came you? VALENTINE. From Milan. THIRD OUTLAW. Have you long sojourned there? VALENTINE. Some sixteen months, and longer might have stayed If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. FIRST OUTLAW. What, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028378 | were you banished thence? VALENTINE. I was. SECOND OUTLAW. For what offence? VALENTINE. For that which now torments me to rehearse; I killed a man, whose death I much repent, But yet I slew him manfully in fight, Without false vantage or base treachery. FIRST OUTLAW. Why, neer repent it, if it were done so. But were you banished for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028379 | so small a fault? VALENTINE. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. SECOND OUTLAW. Have you the tongues? VALENTINE. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or else I often had been miserable. THIRD OUTLAW. By the bare scalp of Robin Hoods fat friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction. FIRST OUTLAW. Well have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028380 | him. Sirs, a word. SPEED. Master, be one of them. Its an honourable kind of thievery. VALENTINE. Peace, villain. SECOND OUTLAW. Tell us this: have you anything to take to? VALENTINE. Nothing but my fortune. THIRD OUTLAW. Know then that some of us are gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungoverned youth Thrust from the company of awful men. Myself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028381 | was from Verona banished For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and near allied unto the Duke. SECOND OUTLAW. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman Who, in my mood, I stabbed unto the heart. FIRST OUTLAW. And I for suchlike petty crimes as these. But to the purpose, for we cite our faults, That they may hold | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028382 | excused our lawless lives; 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 SECOND OUTLAW. Indeed because you are a banished man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. Are you content to be our general? To make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028383 | a virtue of necessity And live as we do in this wilderness? THIRD OUTLAW. What sayst thou? Wilt thou be of our consort? Say Ay, and be the captain of us all, Well do thee homage and be ruled by thee, Love thee as our commander and our king. FIRST OUTLAW. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. SECOND | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028384 | OUTLAW. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offered. VALENTINE. I take your offer and will live with you, Provided that you do no outrages On silly women or poor passengers. THIRD OUTLAW. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us; well bring thee to our crews And show thee all the treasure we have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028385 | got, Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Milan. The court of the Dukes palace Enter Proteus. PROTEUS. 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. But Silvia is too fair, too true, too | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028386 | 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, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028387 | a lovers hope, Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 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. Enter Thurio and Musicians. THURIO. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us? PROTEUS. Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028388 | love Will creep in service where it cannot go. THURIO. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here. PROTEUS. Sir, but I do, or else I would be hence. THURIO. Who? Silvia? PROTEUS. Ay, Silvia, for your sake. THURIO. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Lets tune, and to it lustily awhile. Enter Host and Julia | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028389 | in boys clothes, as Sebastian. HOST. Now, my young guest, methinks youre allycholly. I pray you, why is it? JULIA. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. HOST. Come, well have you merry. Ill bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you asked for. JULIA. But shall I hear him speak? HOST. Ay, that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028390 | you shall. JULIA. That will be music. [_Music plays._] HOST. Hark, hark! JULIA. Is he among these? HOST. Ay; but peace, lets hear em. SONG PROTEUS. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028391 | she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, 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. HOST. How now, are you sadder than you were | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028392 | before? How do you, man? The music likes you not. JULIA. You mistake; the musician likes me not. HOST. Why, my pretty youth? JULIA. He plays false, father. HOST. How, out of tune on the strings? JULIA. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very heart-strings. HOST. You have a quick ear. JULIA. Ay, I would I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028393 | were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart. HOST. I perceive you delight not in music. JULIA. Not a whit, when it jars so. HOST. Hark, what fine change is in the music! JULIA. Ay, that change is the spite. HOST. You would have them always play but one thing? JULIA. I would always have one play but one | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028394 | thing. But, host, doth this Sir Proteus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this gentlewoman? HOST. I tell you what Lance, his man, told me: he loved her out of all nick. JULIA. Where is Lance? HOST. Gone to seek his dog, which tomorrow, by his masters command, he must carry for a present to his lady. JULIA. Peace, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028395 | stand aside. The company parts. PROTEUS. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will so plead That you shall say my cunning drift excels. THURIO. Where meet we? PROTEUS. At Saint Gregorys well. THURIO. Farewell. [_Exeunt Thurio and Musicians._] Enter Silvia above. PROTEUS. Madam, good even to your ladyship. SILVIA. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. Who is that that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028396 | spake? PROTEUS. One, lady, if you knew his pure hearts truth, You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. SILVIA. Sir Proteus, as I take it. PROTEUS. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. SILVIA. Whats your will? PROTEUS. That I may compass yours. SILVIA. You have your wish. My will is even this, That presently you hie | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028397 | you home to bed. Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man, Thinkst thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seduced by thy flattery, That hast deceived so many with thy vows? 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028398 | thee for thy wrongful suit, And by and by intend to chide myself Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. PROTEUS. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady, But she is dead. JULIA. [_Aside_.] Twere false, if I should speak it, For I am sure she is not buried. SILVIA. Say that she be; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028399 | yet Valentine thy friend Survives, to whom, thyself art witness, I am betrothed. And art thou not ashamed To wrong him with thy importunacy? PROTEUS. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. SILVIA. And so suppose am I, for in his grave, Assure thyself, my love is buried. PROTEUS. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. SILVIA. Go | 60 | gutenberg |
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