Sacred-texts home  Shakespeare Index  First Folio  Previous  Next 

Two Gentlemen of Verona

 DUKE OF MILAN	Father to Silvia. (DUKE:)
 	|  the two Gentlemen.
 ANTONIO	Father to Proteus.
 THURIO	a foolish rival to Valentine.
 EGLAMOUR	Agent for Silvia in her escape.
 HOST	where Julia lodges. (Host:)
 OUTLAWS	with Valentine.
 	(First Outlaw:)
 	(Second Outlaw:)
 	(Third Outlaw:)
 SPEED	a clownish servant to Valentine.
 LAUNCE	the like to Proteus.
 PANTHINO	Servant to Antonio.
 JULIA	beloved of Proteus.
 SILVIA	beloved of Valentine.
 LUCETTA	waiting-woman to Julia.
 	Servants, Musicians.
 SCENE	Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua.
 SCENE I	Verona. An open place.
 VALENTINE	Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
 	Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
 	Were't not affection chains thy tender days
 	To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
 	I rather would entreat thy company
 	To see the wonders of the world abroad,
 	Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
 	Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
 	But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
 	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 note-worthy object in thy travel:
 	Wish 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 beadsman, Valentine.
 VALENTINE	And on a love-book pray for my success?
 PROTEUS	Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.
 VALENTINE	That's on some shallow story of deep love:
 	How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
 PROTEUS	That's 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 swum the Hellespont.
 PROTEUS	Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
 VALENTINE	No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
 VALENTINE	To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
 	Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
 	With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
 	If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
 	If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
 	However, but a folly bought with wit,
 	Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
 PROTEUS	So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
 VALENTINE	So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll 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 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 turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
 	Losing his verdure even in the prime
 	And all the fair effects of future hopes.
 	But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
 	That art a votary to fond desire?
 	Once more adieu! my father at the road
 	Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
 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 by letters
 	Of thy success in love, and what news else
 	Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
 	And likewise will visit thee with mine.
 PROTEUS	All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
 VALENTINE	As much to you at home! and so, farewell.
 PROTEUS	He after honour hunts, I after love:
 	He leaves his friends to dignify them 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 embark for Milan.
 SPEED	Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already,
 	And I have play'd 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?
 SPEED	Why then, my horns are 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 I'll prove it by another.
 SPEED	The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the
 	shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master 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 'baa.'
 PROTEUS	But, dost thou hear? gavest 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	Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
 SPEED	If the ground be overcharged, you were 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.
 PROTEUS	But what said she?
 SPEED	[First nodding]  Ay.
 PROTEUS	Nod--Ay--why, that's 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	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 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	Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
 SPEED	Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
 PROTEUS	Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
 SPEED	Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no,
 	not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter:
 	and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I
 	fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your
 	mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as
 	hard as steel.
 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, I'll commend you to my master.
 PROTEUS	Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
 	Which cannot perish having thee aboard,
 	Being destined to a drier death on shore.
 	[Exit SPEED]
 	I must go send some better messenger:
 	I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
 	Receiving them from such a worthless post.
 SCENE II	The same. Garden of JULIA's house.
 	[Enter JULlA and LUCETTA]
 JULIA	But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
 	Wouldst thou then counsel me 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, I'll show my mind
 	According to my shallow simple skill.
 JULIA	What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
 LUCETTA	As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;
 	But, were I you, he never should be mine.
 JULIA	What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
 LUCETTA	Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.
 JULIA	What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
 LUCETTA	Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
 JULIA	How now! what means this passion at 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 woman's reason;
 	I think him so because 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 that's 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.
 JULIA	'To Julia.' Say, from whom?
 LUCETTA	That the contents will show.
 JULIA	Say, say, who gave it thee?
 LUCETTA	Valentine's 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, 'tis an office of great worth
 	And you an officer fit for the place.
 	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.
 JULIA	And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter:
 	It were a shame to call her back again
 	And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
 	What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
 	And would not force the letter to my view!
 	Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that
 	Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.'
 	Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
 	That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
 	And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
 	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 for my folly past.
 	What ho! Lucetta!
 	[Re-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.
 JULIA	What is't that you took up so gingerly?
 LUCETTA	Nothing.
 JULIA	Why didst thou 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 interpeter.
 JULIA	Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
 LUCETTA	That 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, would you sing it.
 JULIA	And why not you?
 LUCETTA	                  I cannot reach so high.
 JULIA	Let's see your song. 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, 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 drown'd 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 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 anger'd with another letter.
 JULIA	 Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
 	O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
 	Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
 	And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
 	I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
 	Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
 	As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
 	I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
 	Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
 	And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
 	Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
 	Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
 	And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
 	But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
 	Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
 	Till I have found each letter in the letter,
 	Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
 	Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
 	And throw it thence into the raging sea!
 	Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
 	'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
 	To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
 	And yet I will not, sith so prettily
 	He couples it to his complaining names.
 	Thus will I fold them one on another:
 	Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
 	[Re-enter LUCETTA]
 	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.
 JULIA	I see you have a month's 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; will't please you go?
 SCENE III	The same. ANTONIO's house.
 ANTONIO	Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that
 	Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
 PANTHINO	'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
 ANTONIO	Why, what of him?
 PANTHINO	                  He wonder'd 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;
 	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	Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
 	Whereon this month I have been hammering.
 	I have consider'd well his loss of time
 	And how he cannot be a perfect man,
 	Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
 	Experience is by industry achieved
 	And perfected by the swift course of time.
 	Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
 PANTHINO	I think your lordship is not ignorant
 	How his companion, youthful Valentine,
 	Attends the emperor in his royal court.
 ANTONIO	I know it well.
 PANTHINO	'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 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 emperor's court.
 PANTHINO	To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
 	With other gentlemen of good esteem,
 	Are journeying to salute the emperor
 	And to commend their service to his will.
 ANTONIO	Good company; with them shall Proteus go:
 	And, in good time! now will we break with him.
 	[Enter PROTEUS]
 PROTEUS	Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
 	Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
 	Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
 	O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
 	To seal our happiness with their consents!
 	O heavenly Julia!
 ANTONIO	How now! what letter are you reading there?
 PROTEUS	May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
 	Of commendations sent from Valentine,
 	Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.
 ANTONIO	Lend me the letter; let me see what news.
 PROTEUS	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 lordship's will
 	And not depending on his friendly wish.
 ANTONIO	My will is something 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 emperor's court:
 	What maintenance he from his friends receives,
 	Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
 	To-morrow be in readiness to go:
 	Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
 PROTEUS	My lord, I cannot be so soon provided:
 	Please you, deliberate a day or two.
 ANTONIO	Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee:
 	No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.
 	Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd
 	To hasten on his expedition.
 PROTEUS	Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning,
 	And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
 	I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
 	Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
 	And with the vantage of mine own excuse
 	Hath he excepted most against my love.
 	O, how this spring of love resembleth
 	The uncertain glory of an April day,
 	Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
 	And by and by a cloud takes all away!
 	[Re-enter PANTHINO]
 PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
 	He is in haste; therefore, I pray you to go.
 PROTEUS	Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,
 	And yet a thousand times it answers 'no.'
 SCENE I	Milan. The DUKE's palace.
 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, it's mine:
 	Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
 	Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
 SPEED	Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!
 VALENTINE	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, you'll 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 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 malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a
 	robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had
 	the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had
 	lost his A B C; to weep, 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; 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, that's certain, for, without you
 	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 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
 	knowest 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 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	That's 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 counts of her beauty.
 VALENTINE	How esteemest 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 her.
 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
 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 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 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?
 SPEED	Are they not lamely writ?
 VALENTINE	No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace!
 	here she comes.
 SPEED	[Aside]  O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!
 	Now will he interpret to her.
 	[Enter SILVIA]
 VALENTINE	Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.
 SPEED	[Aside]  O, give ye good even! here's 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	As you enjoin'd 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.
 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 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 take this again; 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.
 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, I'll write your ladyship another.
 SILVIA	And when it's writ, for my sake read it over,
 	And if it please you, so; 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.
 SPEED	O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
 	As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
 	My master sues to her, and she hath
 	taught her suitor,
 	He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
 	O excellent device! was there ever heard a better,
 	That my master, being scribe, to himself should write
 	the letter?
 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 for Madam Silvia.
 SPEED	To yourself: why, she wooes 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, 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	That's 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	I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:
 	For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty,
 	Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
 	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.
 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.
 SCENE II	Verona. JULIA'S house.
 	[Enter PROTEUS and JULIA]
 PROTEUS	Have patience, gentle Julia.
 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 Julia's sake.
 	[Giving a ring]
 PROTEUS	Why then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this.
 JULIA	And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
 PROTEUS	Here is my hand for my true constancy;
 	And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
 	Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
 	The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
 	Torment me for my love's forgetfulness!
 	My father stays my coming; answer not;
 	The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears;
 	That tide will stay me longer than I should.
 	Julia, farewell!
 	[Exit JULIA]
 	What, gone without a word?
 	Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
 	For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
 	[Enter PANTHINO]
 PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
 PROTEUS	Go; I come, I come.
 	Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
 SCENE III	The same. A street.
 	[Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog]
 LAUNCE	Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping;
 	all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I
 	have received my proportion, like the prodigious
 	son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's
 	court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured
 	dog that lives: my mother weeping, 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 pebble stone, and
 	has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have
 	wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam,
 	having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my
 	parting. Nay, I'll 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, with the hole in
 	it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance
 	on't! there 'tis: now, sit, 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
 	dog--Oh! 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 kiss her; why, there
 	'tis; here's my mother's 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 PANTHINO]
 PANTHINO	Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped
 	and thou art to post after with oars. What's the
 	matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! You'll
 	lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
 LAUNCE	It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the
 	unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
 PANTHINO	What's the unkindest tide?
 LAUNCE	Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog.
 PANTHINO	Tut, man, I mean thou'lt 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
 	service,--Why dost thou stop my mouth?
 LAUNCE	For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
 PANTHINO	Where should I lose my tongue?
 LAUNCE	In thy tale.
 PANTHINO	In thy tail!
 LAUNCE	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.
 PANTHINO	Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
 LAUNCE	Sir, call me what thou darest.
 PANTHINO	Wilt thou go?
 LAUNCE	Well, I will go.
 SCENE IV	Milan. The DUKE's palace.
 SILVIA	Servant!
 VALENTINE	Mistress?
 SPEED	Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
 VALENTINE	Ay, boy, it's for love.
 SPEED	Not of you.
 VALENTINE	Of my mistress, then.
 SPEED	'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?
 THURIO	What instance of the contrary?
 VALENTINE	Your folly.
 THURIO	And how quote you my folly?
 VALENTINE	I quote it in your jerkin.
 THURIO	My jerkin is a doublet.
 VALENTINE	Well, then, I'll double your folly.
 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 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 his wit from your ladyship's 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,
 	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's 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 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?
 VALENTINE	I know 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 that's his name,
 	Made use and fair advantage of his days;
 	His years but young, but his experience old;
 	His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
 	And, in a word, for far behind his worth
 	Comes all the praises that I now bestow,
 	He is complete in feature and in mind
 	With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
 DUKE	Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
 	He is as worthy for an empress' love
 	As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
 	Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
 	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 wish'd a thing, it had been he.
 DUKE	Welcome him then according to his worth.
 	Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio;
 	For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:
 	I will send him hither to you presently.
 VALENTINE	This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
 	Had come along with me, but that his mistress
 	Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
 SILVIA	Belike that now she hath enfranchised them
 	Upon 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, Thurio, as yourself:
 	Upon a homely object Love can wink.
 SILVIA	Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.
 	[Exit THURIO]
 	[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 wish'd to hear from.
 VALENTINE	Mistress, it is: 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; nothing else.
 SILVIA	And duty never yet did want his meed:
 	Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
 PROTEUS	I'll die on him that says so but yourself.
 SILVIA	That you are welcome?
 PROTEUS	That you are worthless.
 	[Re-enter THURIO]
 THURIO	Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
 SILVIA	I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio,
 	Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome:
 	I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
 	When you have done, we look to hear from you.
 PROTEUS	We'll 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	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 alter'd now:
 	I have done penance for contemning Love,
 	Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
 	With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
 	With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs;
 	For in revenge of my contempt of love,
 	Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes
 	And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
 	O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,
 	And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
 	There is no woe to his correction,
 	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 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 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 lady's train, lest the base earth
 	Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss
 	And, of so great a favour growing proud,
 	Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
 	And make rough winter everlastingly.
 PROTEUS	Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this?
 VALENTINE	Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing
 	To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
 	She is alone.
 PROTEUS	                  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 see'st me dote upon my love.
 	My foolish rival, that her father likes
 	Only for his possessions are so huge,
 	Is gone with her along, and I must after,
 	For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
 PROTEUS	But she loves you?
 VALENTINE	Ay, and we are betroth'd: nay, more, our,
 	With all the cunning manner of our flight,
 	Determined of; how I must climb her window,
 	The ladder made of cords, and all the means
 	Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness.
 	Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
 	In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
 PROTEUS	Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:
 	I must unto the road, to disembark
 	Some necessaries that I needs must use,
 	And then I'll presently attend you.
 VALENTINE	Will you make haste?
 PROTEUS	I will.
 	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, or Valentine's praise,
 	Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
 	That makes me reasonless to reason thus?
 	She is fair; and so is Julia that I love--
 	That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
 	Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire,
 	Bears no impression of the thing it was.
 	Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,
 	And that I love him not as I was wont.
 	O, but I love his lady too too much,
 	And that's the reason I love him so little.
 	How shall I dote on her with more advice,
 	That thus without advice begin to love her!
 	'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
 	And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
 	But when I look on her perfections,
 	There is no reason but I shall be blind.
 	If I can cheque my erring love, I will;
 	If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.
 SCENE V	The same. A street.
 	[Enter SPEED and LAUNCE severally]
 SPEED	Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan!
 LAUNCE	Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not
 	welcome. I reckon this always, that 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, I'll 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 Julia?
 LAUNCE	Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very
 	fairly in jest.
 SPEED	But shall she marry him?
 SPEED	How then? shall he marry her?
 LAUNCE	No, neither.
 SPEED	What, are they broken?
 LAUNCE	No, they are both as whole as a fish.
 SPEED	Why, then, how stands the matter with them?
 LAUNCE	Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it
 	stands well with her.
 SPEED	What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
 LAUNCE	What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My
 	staff understands me.
 SPEED	What thou sayest?
 LAUNCE	Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean,
 	and my staff understands me.
 SPEED	It stands under thee, indeed.
 LAUNCE	Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.
 SPEED	But tell me true, will't be a match?
 LAUNCE	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.
 LAUNCE	Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.
 SPEED	'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how sayest
 	thou, that my master is become a notable lover?
 LAUNCE	I never knew him otherwise.
 SPEED	Than how?
 LAUNCE	A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
 SPEED	Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me.
 LAUNCE	Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.
 SPEED	I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
 LAUNCE	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.
 LAUNCE	Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to
 	go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?
 SPEED	At thy service.
 SCENE VI	The same. The DUKE'S palace.
 	[Enter PROTEUS]
 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;
 	And even 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 broken,
 	And he wants wit that wants resolved will
 	To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
 	Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
 	Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
 	With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
 	I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
 	But there I leave to love where I should love.
 	Julia I lose and Valentine I lose:
 	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 Silvia--witness Heaven, that made her fair!--
 	Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
 	I will forget that Julia is alive,
 	Remembering that my love to her is dead;
 	And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
 	Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
 	I cannot now prove constant to myself,
 	Without some treachery used to Valentine.
 	This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
 	To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window,
 	Myself in counsel, his competitor.
 	Now presently I'll give her father notice
 	Of their disguising and pretended flight;
 	Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine;
 	For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;
 	But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross
 	By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
 	Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
 	As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!
 SCENE VII	Verona. JULIA'S house.
 	[Enter JULIA and LUCETTA]
 JULIA	Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me;
 	And even in kind love I do conjure thee,
 	Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
 	Are visibly character'd and engraved,
 	To lesson me and tell me some good mean
 	How, with my honour, I may undertake
 	A journey 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 Love's 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.
 JULIA	O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food?
 	Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
 	By longing for that food so long a time.
 	Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
 	Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
 	As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
 LUCETTA	I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,
 	But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
 	Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
 JULIA	The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.
 	The current that with gentle murmur glides,
 	Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
 	But when his fair course is not hindered,
 	He makes sweet music with the enamell'ed 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
 	I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
 	And make a pastime of each weary step,
 	Till the last step have brought me to my love;
 	And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
 	A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
 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 ladyship must cut your hair.
 JULIA	No, girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings
 	With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.
 	To be fantastic may become a youth
 	Of greater time than I shall show to be.
 LUCETTA	What fashion, madam shall I make your breeches?
 JULIA	That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord,
 	What compass will you wear your farthingale?'
 	Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.
 LUCETTA	You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
 JULIA	Out, out, Lucetta! that would be ill-favour'd.
 LUCETTA	A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin,
 	Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.
 JULIA	Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have
 	What thou thinkest 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 when you come,
 	No matter who's 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, 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 heaven he prove so, when you come to him!
 JULIA	Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong
 	To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
 	Only deserve my love by loving him;
 	And presently go with me to my chamber,
 	To take a note of what I stand in need of,
 	To furnish me upon my longing journey.
 	All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
 	My goods, my lands, my reputation;
 	Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.
 	Come, answer not, but to it presently!
 	I am impatient of my tarriance.
 SCENE I	Milan. The DUKE's palace.
 DUKE	Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;
 	We have some secrets to confer about.
 	[Exit THURIO]
 	Now, tell me, Proteus, what's 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 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 stol'n away from you,
 	It would be much vexation to your age.
 	Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
 	To cross my friend in his intended drift
 	Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
 	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 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 shunn'd,
 	I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
 	That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
 	And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
 	Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
 	I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
 	The key whereof myself have ever kept;
 	And thence she cannot be convey'd 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 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 know
 	That I had any light from thee of this.
 PROTEUS	Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming.
 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	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.
 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 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 cherish'd by her child-like duty,
 	I now am full resolved to take a wife
 	And turn her out to who will take her in:
 	Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
 	For me and my possessions she esteems not.
 VALENTINE	What would your Grace have me to do in this?
 DUKE	There is a lady in Verona here
 	Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy
 	And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
 	Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor--
 	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 woman's mind.
 DUKE	But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
 VALENTINE	A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
 	Send her another; never give her o'er;
 	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 not to have you gone;
 	For why, 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 ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
 	That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
 	If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
 DUKE	But she I mean is promised by her friends
 	Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
 	And kept severely from resort of men,
 	That no man hath access by day to her.
 VALENTINE	Why, then, I would resort to her by night.
 DUKE	Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe,
 	That no 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 serve to scale another Hero's 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 every thing that he can come by.
 VALENTINE	By seven o'clock I'll 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	Ay, my good lord.
 DUKE	                  Then let me see thy cloak:
 	I'll 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.
 	What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'!
 	And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
 	I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.
 	'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
 	And slaves they are to me that send them flying:
 	O, could their master come and go as lightly,
 	Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!
 	My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them:
 	While I, their king, that hither them importune,
 	Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,
 	Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
 	I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
 	That they should harbour where their lord would be.'
 	What's here?
 	'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.'
 	'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
 	Why, Phaeton,--for 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,
 	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 bestow'd 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 the love
 	I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
 	Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
 	But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence.
 VALENTINE	And why not death rather than living torment?
 	To die is to be banish'd from myself;
 	And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
 	Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
 	What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
 	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 me to look upon;
 	She is my essence, and I leave to be,
 	If I be not by her fair influence
 	Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
 	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 LAUNCE]
 PROTEUS	Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
 LAUNCE	Soho, soho!
 PROTEUS	What seest thou?
 LAUNCE	Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head
 	but 'tis a Valentine.
 PROTEUS	Valentine?
 PROTEUS	Who then? his spirit?
 PROTEUS	What then?
 LAUNCE	Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?
 PROTEUS	Who wouldst thou strike?
 LAUNCE	Nothing.
 PROTEUS	Villain, forbear.
 LAUNCE	Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,--
 PROTEUS	Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.
 VALENTINE	My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news,
 	So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
 PROTEUS	Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
 	For they are harsh, untuneable and bad.
 VALENTINE	Is Silvia dead?
 PROTEUS	No, Valentine.
 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?
 LAUNCE	Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.
 PROTEUS	That thou art banished--O, that's the news!--
 	From hence, from Silvia and from me thy friend.
 VALENTINE	O, I have fed upon this woe already,
 	And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
 	Doth Silvia know that I am banished?
 PROTEUS	Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom--
 	Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force--
 	A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
 	Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
 	With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
 	Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them
 	As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
 	But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
 	Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
 	Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
 	But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
 	Besides, her intercession chafed him so,
 	When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
 	That to close prison he commanded her,
 	With many bitter threats of biding there.
 VALENTINE	No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st
 	Have some malignant power upon my life:
 	If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
 	As ending anthem of my endless dolour.
 PROTEUS	Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
 	And study help for that which thou lament'st.
 	Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
 	Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
 	Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
 	Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that
 	And manage it against despairing thoughts.
 	Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
 	Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
 	Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
 	The time now serves not to expostulate:
 	Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate;
 	And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
 	Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
 	As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself,
 	Regard thy danger, and along with me!
 VALENTINE	I pray thee, Launce, 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!
 LAUNCE	I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to
 	think my master is a kind of a knave: but that's
 	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; yet
 	'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis
 	a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for
 	wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel;
 	which is much in a bare Christian.
 	[Pulling out a paper]
 	Here is the cate-log of her condition.
 	'Imprimis: She can fetch and carry.' Why, a horse
 	can do 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 Launce! what news with your
 LAUNCE	With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.
 SPEED	Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What
 	news, then, in your paper?
 LAUNCE	The blackest news that ever thou heardest.
 SPEED	Why, man, how black?
 LAUNCE	Why, as black as ink.
 SPEED	Let me read them.
 LAUNCE	Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read.
 SPEED	Thou liest; I can.
 LAUNCE	I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?
 SPEED	Marry, the son of my grandfather.
 LAUNCE	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.
 LAUNCE	There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!
 SPEED	[Reads]  'Imprimis: She can milk.'
 LAUNCE	Ay, that she can.
 SPEED	'Item: She brews good ale.'
 LAUNCE	And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your
 	heart, you brew good ale.'
 SPEED	'Item: She can sew.'
 LAUNCE	That's as much as to say, Can she so?
 SPEED	'Item: She can knit.'
 LAUNCE	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.'
 LAUNCE	A special virtue: for then she need not be washed
 	and scoured.
 SPEED	'Item: She can spin.'
 LAUNCE	Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can
 	spin for her living.
 SPEED	'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.'
 LAUNCE	That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that,
 	indeed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names.
 SPEED	'Here follow her vices.'
 LAUNCE	Close at the heels of her virtues.
 SPEED	'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting in respect
 	of her breath.'
 LAUNCE	Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.
 SPEED	'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.'
 LAUNCE	That makes amends for her sour breath.
 SPEED	'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.'
 LAUNCE	It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.
 SPEED	'Item: She is slow in words.'
 LAUNCE	O villain, that set this down among her vices! To
 	be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray
 	thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.
 SPEED	'Item: She is proud.'
 LAUNCE	Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot
 	be ta'en from her.
 SPEED	'Item: She hath no teeth.'
 LAUNCE	I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.
 SPEED	'Item: She is curst.'
 LAUNCE	Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
 SPEED	'Item: She will often praise her liquor.'
 LAUNCE	If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I
 	will; for good things should be praised.
 SPEED	'Item: She is too liberal.'
 LAUNCE	Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she
 	is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that
 	I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and
 	that cannot I help. Well, proceed.
 SPEED	'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults
 	than hairs, and more wealth than faults.'
 LAUNCE	Stop there; I'll 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,'--
 LAUNCE	More hair than wit? It may be; I'll prove it. 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. What's next?
 SPEED	'And more faults than hairs,'--
 LAUNCE	That's monstrous: O, that that were out!
 SPEED	'And more wealth than faults.'
 LAUNCE	Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well,
 	I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is
 SPEED	What then?
 LAUNCE	Why, then will I tell thee--that thy master stays
 	for thee at the North-gate.
 SPEED	For me?
 LAUNCE	For thee! ay, who art thou? he hath stayed for a
 	better man than thee.
 SPEED	And must I go to him?
 LAUNCE	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!
 LAUNCE	Now will he be swinged for reading my letter; an
 	unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into
 	secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.
 SCENE II	The same. The DUKE's palace.
 	[Enter DUKE and THURIO]
 DUKE	Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,
 	Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
 THURIO	Since his exile she hath despised me most,
 	Forsworn my company and rail'd at me,
 	That I am desperate of obtaining her.
 DUKE	This weak impress of love is as a figure
 	Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
 	Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.
 	A little time will melt her frozen thoughts
 	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 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 live to look upon your grace.
 DUKE	Thou know'st 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 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 she'll think that it is spoke in hate.
 PROTEUS	Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
 	Therefore it must with 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 indifferent,
 	Being entreated to it by your friend.
 PROTEUS	You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it
 	By ought that I can speak in his dispraise,
 	She shall not long continue love to him.
 	But say this weed her love from Valentine,
 	It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.
 THURIO	Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
 	Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
 	You must provide to bottom it on me;
 	Which must be done by praising me as much
 	As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.
 DUKE	And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind,
 	Because we know, on Valentine's report,
 	You are already Love's firm votary
 	And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
 	Upon this warrant shall you have access
 	Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
 	For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
 	And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
 	Where you may temper her by your persuasion
 	To hate young Valentine and love my friend.
 PROTEUS	As much as I can do, I will effect:
 	But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
 	You must lay lime to tangle her desires
 	By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
 	Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.
 	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 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 lady's chamber-window
 	With some sweet concert; to their instruments
 	Tune a deploring dump: the night's 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 I'll put in practise.
 	Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
 	Let us into the city presently
 	To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.
 	I have a sonnet that will serve the turn
 	To give the onset to thy good advice.
 DUKE	About it, gentlemen!
 PROTEUS	We'll wait upon your grace till after supper,
 	And afterward determine our proceedings.
 DUKE	Even now about it! I will pardon you.
 SCENE I	The frontiers of Mantua. A forest.
 	[Enter certain Outlaws]
 First Outlaw	Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.
 Second Outlaw	If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.
 Third Outlaw	Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye:
 	If not: we'll make you sit and rifle you.
 SPEED	Sir, we are undone; these are the villains
 	That all the travellers do fear so much.
 VALENTINE	My friends,--
 First Outlaw	That's not so, sir: we are your enemies.
 Second Outlaw	Peace! we'll hear him.
 Third Outlaw	Ay, by my beard, will we, for he's a proper man.
 VALENTINE	Then know that I have little wealth to lose:
 	A man I am cross'd with adversity;
 	My riches are these poor habiliments,
 	Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
 	You take the sum and substance that I have.
 Second Outlaw	Whither travel you?
 First Outlaw	Whence came you?
 VALENTINE	From Milan.
 Third Outlaw	Have you long sojourned there?
 VALENTINE	Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd,
 	If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
 First Outlaw	What, were you banish'd thence?
 Second Outlaw	For what offence?
 VALENTINE	For that which now torments me to rehearse:
 	I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
 	But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
 	Without false vantage or base treachery.
 First Outlaw	Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so.
 	But were you banish'd for 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 Hood's fat friar,
 	This fellow were a king for our wild faction!
 First Outlaw	We'll have him. Sirs, a word.
 SPEED	Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery.
 VALENTINE	Peace, villain!
 Second Outlaw	Tell us this: have you any thing to take to?
 VALENTINE	Nothing but my fortune.
 Third Outlaw	Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen,
 	Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
 	Thrust from the company of awful men:
 	Myself was from Verona banished
 	For practising to steal away a lady,
 	An heir, and near allied unto the duke.
 Second Outlaw	And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,
 	Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.
 First Outlaw	And I for such like petty crimes as these,
 	But to the purpose--for we cite our faults,
 	That they may hold excus'd 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 banish'd man,
 	Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:
 	Are you content to be our general?
 	To make a virtue of necessity
 	And live, as we do, in this wilderness?
 Third Outlaw	What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
 	Say ay, and be the captain of us all:
 	We'll do thee homage and be ruled by thee,
 	Love thee as our commander and our king.
 First Outlaw	But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.
 Second Outlaw	Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.
 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 practises.
 	Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
 	And show thee all the treasure we have got,
 	Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.
 SCENE II	Milan. Outside the DUKE's palace, under SILVIA's chamber.
 	[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 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 a lover's 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 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,
 	Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.
 	[Enter, at a distance, Host, and JULIA in boy's clothes]
 Host	Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly: I
 	pray you, why is it?
 JULIA	Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.
 Host	Come, we'll have you merry: I'll 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 you shall.
 JULIA	That will be music.
 	[Music plays]
 Host	Hark, hark!
 JULIA	Is he among these?
 Host	Ay: but, peace! let's hear 'em.
 	Who is Silvia? what is she,
 	That all our swains commend her?
 	Holy, fair and wise is she;
 	The heaven such grace did lend her,
 	That she might admired be.
 	Is she kind as she is fair?
 	For beauty lives with kindness.
 	Love doth to her eyes repair,
 	To help him of his blindness,
 	And, being help'd, inhabits there.
 	Then to Silvia let us sing,
 	That Silvia is excelling;
 	She excels each mortal thing
 	Upon the dull earth dwelling:
 	To her let us garlands bring.
 Host	How now! are you sadder than you were 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
 Host	You have a quick ear.
 JULIA	Ay, I would I 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 thing.
 	But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on
 	Often resort unto this gentlewoman?
 Host	I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he loved
 	her out of all nick.
 JULIA	Where is Launce?
 Host	Gone to seek his dog; which tomorrow, by his
 	master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.
 JULIA	Peace! 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 Gregory's 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 spake?
 PROTEUS	One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's 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	What's your will?
 PROTEUS	                  That I may compass yours.
 SILVIA	You have your wish; my will is even this:
 	That presently you hie you home to bed.
 	Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man!
 	Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
 	To be seduced by thy flattery,
 	That hast deceived so many with thy vows?
 	Return, return, and make thy love amends.
 	For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
 	I am so far from granting thy request
 	That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,
 	And by and by intend to chide myself
 	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; yet Valentine thy friend
 	Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
 	I am betroth'd: 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 to thy lady's grave and call hers thence,
 	Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.
 JULIA	[Aside]  He heard not that.
 PROTEUS	Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
 	Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
 	The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
 	To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
 	For since the substance of your perfect self
 	Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
 	And to your shadow will I make true love.
 JULIA	[Aside]  If 'twere a substance, you would, sure,
 	deceive it,
 	And make it but a shadow, as I am.
 SILVIA	I am very loath to be your idol, sir;
 	But since your falsehood shall become you well
 	To worship shadows and adore false shapes,
 	Send to me in the morning and I'll send it:
 	And so, good rest.
 PROTEUS	                  As wretches have o'ernight
 	That wait for execution in the morn.
 	[Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA severally]
 JULIA	Host, will you go?
 Host	By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
 JULIA	Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?
 Host	Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost
 JULIA	Not so; but it hath been the longest night
 	That e'er I watch'd and the most heaviest.
 SCENE III	The same.
 	[Enter EGLAMOUR]
 EGLAMOUR	This is the hour that Madam Silvia
 	Entreated me to call and know her mind:
 	There's some great matter she'ld employ me in.
 	Madam, madam!
 	[Enter SILVIA above]
 SILVIA	                  Who calls?
 EGLAMOUR	Your servant and your friend;
 	One that attends your ladyship's command.
 SILVIA	Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow.
 EGLAMOUR	As many, worthy lady, to yourself:
 	According to your ladyship's impose,
 	I am thus early come to know what service
 	It is your pleasure to command me in.
 SILVIA	O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman--
 	Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not--
 	Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd:
 	Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
 	I bear unto the banish'd Valentine,
 	Nor how my father would enforce me marry
 	Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
 	Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say
 	No grief did ever come so near thy heart
 	As when thy lady and thy true love died,
 	Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
 	Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
 	To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;
 	And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
 	I do desire thy worthy company,
 	Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
 	Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
 	But think upon my grief, a lady's grief,
 	And on the justice of my flying hence,
 	To keep me from a most unholy match,
 	Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.
 	I do desire thee, even from a heart
 	As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
 	To bear me company and go with me:
 	If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
 	That I may venture to depart alone.
 EGLAMOUR	Madam, I pity much your grievances;
 	Which since I know they virtuously are placed,
 	I give consent to go along with you,
 	Recking as little what betideth me
 	As much I wish all good befortune you.
 	When will you go?
 SILVIA	                  This evening coming.
 EGLAMOUR	Where shall I meet you?
 SILVIA	At Friar Patrick's cell,
 	Where I intend holy confession.
 EGLAMOUR	I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady.
 SILVIA	Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour.
 	[Exeunt severally]
 SCENE IV	The same.
 	[Enter LAUNCE, with his his Dog]
 LAUNCE	When a man's servant shall play the cur with him,
 	look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a
 	puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or
 	four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it.
 	I have taught him, even as one would say precisely,
 	'thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver
 	him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master;
 	and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he
 	steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg:
 	O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself
 	in all companies! I would have, as one should say,
 	one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be,
 	as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had
 	more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did,
 	I think verily he had been hanged for't; sure as I
 	live, he had suffered for't; you shall judge. He
 	thrusts me himself into the company of three or four
 	gentlemanlike dogs under the duke's table: he had
 	not been there--bless the mark!--a pissing while, but
 	all the chamber smelt him. 'Out with the dog!' says
 	one: 'What cur is that?' says another: 'Whip him
 	out' says the third: 'Hang him up' says the duke.
 	I, having been acquainted with the smell before,
 	knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that
 	whips the dogs: 'Friend,' quoth I, 'you mean to whip
 	the dog?' 'Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. 'You do him
 	the more wrong,' quoth I; ''twas I did the thing you
 	wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out
 	of the chamber. How many masters would do this for
 	his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the
 	stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had
 	been executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese
 	he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't.
 	Thou thinkest not of this now. Nay, I remember the
 	trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam
 	Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I
 	do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg and make
 	water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst
 	thou ever see me do such a trick?
 	[Enter PROTEUS and JULIA]
 PROTEUS	Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well
 	And will employ thee in some service presently.
 JULIA	In what you please: I'll do what I can.
 PROTEUS	I hope thou wilt.
 	How now, you whoreson peasant!
 	Where have you been these two days loitering?
 LAUNCE	Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
 PROTEUS	And what says she to my little jewel?
 LAUNCE	Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you
 	currish thanks is good enough for such a present.
 PROTEUS	But she received my dog?
 LAUNCE	No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him
 	back again.
 PROTEUS	What, didst thou offer her this from me?
 LAUNCE	Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by
 	the hangman boys in the market-place: and then I
 	offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of
 	yours, and therefore the gift the greater.
 PROTEUS	Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,
 	Or ne'er return again into my sight.
 	Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here?
 	[Exit LAUNCE]
 	A slave, that still an end turns me to shame!
 	Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
 	Partly that I have need of such a youth
 	That can with some discretion do my business,
 	For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout,
 	But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior,
 	Which, if my augury deceive me not,
 	Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth:
 	Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
 	Go presently and take this ring with thee,
 	Deliver it to Madam Silvia:
 	She loved me well deliver'd it to me.
 JULIA	It seems you loved not her, to leave her token.
 	She is dead, belike?
 PROTEUS	Not so; I think she lives.
 JULIA	Alas!
 PROTEUS	Why dost thou cry 'alas'?
 JULIA	I cannot choose
 	But pity her.
 PROTEUS	                  Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
 JULIA	Because methinks that she loved you as well
 	As you do love your lady Silvia:
 	She dreams of him that has forgot her love;
 	You dote on her that cares not for your love.
 	'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
 	And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!'
 PROTEUS	Well, give her that ring and therewithal
 	This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my lady
 	I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
 	Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
 	Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary.
 JULIA	How many women would do such a message?
 	Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
 	A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.
 	Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
 	That with his very heart despiseth me?
 	Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
 	Because I love him I must pity him.
 	This ring I gave him when he parted from me,
 	To bind him to remember my good will;
 	And now am I, unhappy messenger,
 	To plead for that which I would not obtain,
 	To carry that which I would have refused,
 	To praise his faith which I would have dispraised.
 	I am my master's true-confirmed love;
 	But cannot be true servant to my master,
 	Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
 	Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly
 	As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
 	[Enter SILVIA, attended]
 	Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
 	To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
 SILVIA	What would you with her, if that I be she?
 JULIA	If you be she, I do entreat your patience
 	To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
 SILVIA	From whom?
 JULIA	From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
 SILVIA	O, he sends you for a picture.
 JULIA	Ay, madam.
 SILVIA	Ursula, bring my picture here.
 	Go give your master this: tell him from me,
 	One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
 	Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
 JULIA	Madam, please you peruse this letter.--
 	Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised
 	Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:
 	This is the letter to your ladyship.
 SILVIA	I pray thee, let me look on that again.
 JULIA	It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
 SILVIA	There, hold!
 	I will not look upon your master's lines:
 	I know they are stuff'd with protestations
 	And full of new-found oaths; which he will break
 	As easily as I do tear his paper.
 JULIA	Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
 SILVIA	The more shame for him that he sends it me;
 	For I have heard him say a thousand times
 	His Julia gave it him at his departure.
 	Though his false finger have profaned the ring,
 	Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
 JULIA	She thanks you.
 SILVIA	What say'st thou?
 JULIA	I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
 	Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.
 SILVIA	Dost thou know her?
 JULIA	Almost as well as I do know myself:
 	To think upon her woes I do protest
 	That I have wept a hundred several times.
 SILVIA	Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.
 JULIA	I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.
 SILVIA	Is she not passing fair?
 JULIA	She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:
 	When she did think my master loved her well,
 	She, in my judgment, was as fair as you:
 	But since she did neglect her looking-glass
 	And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
 	The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks
 	And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
 	That now she is become as black as I.
 SILVIA	How tall was she?
 JULIA	About my stature; for at Pentecost,
 	When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
 	Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
 	And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown,
 	Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
 	As if the garment had been made for me:
 	Therefore I know she is about my height.
 	And at that time I made her weep agood,
 	For I did play a lamentable part:
 	Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning
 	For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
 	Which I so lively acted with my tears
 	That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
 	Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead
 	If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
 SILVIA	She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
 	Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!
 	I weep myself to think upon thy words.
 	Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this
 	For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lovest her.
 	[Exit SILVIA, with attendants]
 JULIA	And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.
 	A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful
 	I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
 	Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
 	Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
 	Here is her picture: let me see; I think,
 	If I had such a tire, this face of mine
 	Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
 	And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
 	Unless I flatter with myself too much.
 	Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
 	If that be all the difference in his love,
 	I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
 	Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine:
 	Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
 	What should it be that he respects in her
 	But I can make respective in myself,
 	If this fond Love were not a blinded god?
 	Come, shadow, come and take this shadow up,
 	For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
 	Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, loved and adored!
 	And, were there sense in his idolatry,
 	My substance should be statue in thy stead.
 	I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
 	That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
 	I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes
 	To make my master out of love with thee!
 SCENE I	Milan. An abbey.
 	[Enter EGLAMOUR]
 EGLAMOUR	The sun begins to gild the western sky;
 	And now it is about the very hour
 	That Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me.
 	She will not fail, for lovers break not hours,
 	Unless it be to come before their time;
 	So much they spur their expedition.
 	See where she comes.
 	[Enter SILVIA]
 		Lady, a happy evening!
 SILVIA	Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour,
 	Out at the postern by the abbey-wall:
 	I fear I am attended by some spies.
 EGLAMOUR	Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;
 	If we recover that, we are sure enough.
 SCENE II	The same. The DUKE's palace.
 THURIO	Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
 PROTEUS	O, sir, I find her milder than she was;
 	And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
 THURIO	What, that my leg is too long?
 PROTEUS	No; that it is too little.
 THURIO	I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.
 JULIA	[Aside]  But love will not be spurr'd to what
 	it loathes.
 THURIO	What says she to my face?
 PROTEUS	She says it is a fair one.
 THURIO	Nay then, the wanton lies; my face is black.
 PROTEUS	But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
 	Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
 JULIA	[Aside]  'Tis true; such pearls as put out
 	ladies' eyes;
 	For I had rather wink than look on them.
 THURIO	How likes she my discourse?
 PROTEUS	Ill, when you talk of war.
 THURIO	But well, when I discourse of love and peace?
 JULIA	[Aside]  But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.
 THURIO	What says she to my valour?
 PROTEUS	O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
 JULIA	[Aside]  She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
 THURIO	What says she to my birth?
 PROTEUS	That you are well derived.
 JULIA	[Aside]  True; from a gentleman to a fool.
 THURIO	Considers she my possessions?
 PROTEUS	O, ay; and pities them.
 THURIO	Wherefore?
 JULIA	[Aside]  That such an ass should owe them.
 PROTEUS	That they are out by lease.
 JULIA	Here comes the duke.
 	[Enter DUKE]
 DUKE	How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio!
 	Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?
 PROTEUS	     Nor I.
 DUKE	          Saw you my daughter?
 PROTEUS	Neither.
 DUKE	Why then,
 	She's fled unto that peasant Valentine;
 	And Eglamour is in her company.
 	'Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both,
 	As he in penance wander'd through the forest;
 	Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she,
 	But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it;
 	Besides, she did intend confession
 	At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not;
 	These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
 	Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
 	But mount you presently and meet with me
 	Upon the rising of the mountain-foot
 	That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled:
 	Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
 THURIO	Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
 	That flies her fortune when it follows her.
 	I'll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour
 	Than for the love of reckless Silvia.
 PROTEUS	And I will follow, more for Silvia's love
 	Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.
 JULIA	And I will follow, more to cross that love
 	Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love.
 SCENE III	The frontiers of Mantua. The forest.
 	[Enter Outlaws with SILVIA]
 First Outlaw	Come, come,
 	Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.
 SILVIA	A thousand more mischances than this one
 	Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
 Second Outlaw	Come, bring her away.
 First Outlaw	Where is the gentleman that was with her?
 Third Outlaw	Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us,
 	But Moyses and Valerius follow him.
 	Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;
 	There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled;
 	The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape.
 First Outlaw	Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave:
 	Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,
 	And will not use a woman lawlessly.
 SILVIA	O Valentine, this I endure for thee!
 SCENE IV	Another part of the forest.
 VALENTINE	How use doth breed a habit in a man!
 	This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
 	I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
 	Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
 	And to the nightingale's complaining notes
 	Tune my distresses and record my woes.
 	O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
 	Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,
 	Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall
 	And leave no memory of what it was!
 	Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
 	Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!
 	What halloing and what stir is this to-day?
 	These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
 	Have some unhappy passenger in chase.
 	They love me well; yet I have much to do
 	To keep them from uncivil outrages.
 	Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here?
 PROTEUS	Madam, this service I have done for you,
 	Though you respect not aught your servant doth,
 	To hazard life and rescue you from him
 	That would have forced your honour and your love;
 	Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;
 	A smaller boon than this I cannot beg
 	And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
 VALENTINE	[Aside]  How like a dream is this I see and hear!
 	Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.
 SILVIA	O miserable, unhappy that I am!
 PROTEUS	Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;
 	But by my coming I have made you happy.
 SILVIA	By thy approach thou makest me most unhappy.
 JULIA	[Aside]  And me, when he approacheth to your presence.
 SILVIA	Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
 	I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
 	Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
 	O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
 	Whose life's as tender to me as my soul!
 	And full as much, for more there cannot be,
 	I do detest false perjured Proteus.
 	Therefore be gone; solicit me no more.
 PROTEUS	What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
 	Would I not undergo for one calm look!
 	O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved,
 	When women cannot love where they're beloved!
 SILVIA	When Proteus cannot love where he's beloved.
 	Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
 	For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
 	Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
 	Descended into perjury, to love me.
 	Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two;
 	And that's far worse than none; better have none
 	Than plural faith which is too much by one:
 	Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!
 PROTEUS	In love
 	Who respects friend?
 SILVIA	All men but Proteus.
 PROTEUS	Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
 	Can no way change you to a milder form,
 	I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end,
 	And love you 'gainst the nature of love,--force ye.
 SILVIA	O heaven!
 PROTEUS	        I'll force thee yield to my desire.
 VALENTINE	Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,
 	Thou friend of an ill fashion!
 PROTEUS	Valentine!
 VALENTINE	Thou common friend, that's without faith or love,
 	For such is a friend now; treacherous man!
 	Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye
 	Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say
 	I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.
 	Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand
 	Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus,
 	I am sorry I must never trust thee more,
 	But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
 	The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,
 	'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
 PROTEUS	My shame and guilt confounds me.
 	Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
 	Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
 	I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer
 	As e'er I did commit.
 VALENTINE	Then I am paid;
 	And once again I do receive thee honest.
 	Who by repentance is not satisfied
 	Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.
 	By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased:
 	And, that my love may appear plain and free,
 	All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
 JULIA	O me unhappy!
 PROTEUS	Look to the boy.
 VALENTINE	Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter?
 	Look up; speak.
 JULIA	O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring
 	to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.
 PROTEUS	Where is that ring, boy?
 JULIA	Here 'tis; this is it.
 PROTEUS	How! let me see:
 	Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.
 JULIA	O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:
 	This is the ring you sent to Silvia.
 PROTEUS	But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart
 	I gave this unto Julia.
 JULIA	And Julia herself did give it me;
 	And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
 PROTEUS	How! Julia!
 JULIA	Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
 	And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.
 	How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!
 	O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!
 	Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me
 	Such an immodest raiment, if shame live
 	In a disguise of love:
 	It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
 	Women to change their shapes than men their minds.
 PROTEUS	Than men their minds! 'tis true.
 	O heaven! were man
 	But constant, he were perfect. That one error
 	Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:
 	Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
 	What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
 	More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye?
 VALENTINE	Come, come, a hand from either:
 	Let me be blest to make this happy close;
 	'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.
 PROTEUS	Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever.
 JULIA	And I mine.
 	[Enter Outlaws, with DUKE and THURIO]
 Outlaws	A prize, a prize, a prize!
 VALENTINE	Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke.
 	Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced,
 	Banished Valentine.
 DUKE	Sir Valentine!
 THURIO	Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
 VALENTINE	Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
 	Come not within the measure of my wrath;
 	Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
 	Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands;
 	Take but possession of her with a touch:
 	I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
 THURIO	Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
 	I hold him but a fool that will endanger
 	His body for a girl that loves him not:
 	I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
 DUKE	The more degenerate and base art thou,
 	To make such means for her as thou hast done
 	And leave her on such slight conditions.
 	Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
 	I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
 	And think thee worthy of an empress' love:
 	Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
 	Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,
 	Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
 	To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
 	Thou art a gentleman and well derived;
 	Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.
 VALENTINE	I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.
 	I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
 	To grant one boom that I shall ask of you.
 DUKE	I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be.
 VALENTINE	These banish'd men that I have kept withal
 	Are men endued with worthy qualities:
 	Forgive them what they have committed here
 	And let them be recall'd from their exile:
 	They are reformed, civil, full of good
 	And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
 DUKE	Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them and thee:
 	Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts.
 	Come, let us go: we will include all jars
 	With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity.
 VALENTINE	And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
 	With our discourse to make your grace to smile.
 	What think you of this page, my lord?
 DUKE	I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.
 VALENTINE	I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.
 DUKE	What mean you by that saying?
 VALENTINE	Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
 	That you will wonder what hath fortuned.
 	Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance but to hear
 	The story of your loves discovered:
 	That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
 	One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.

Next: Two Noble Kinsmen