Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I Jud. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker !! There, take the paper, see it be return'd; Jul. 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. Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! hate. Jl. Will you be gone? L'ic. That you may ruminate. Jul. Nothing. What is't you took up Why didst thou stoop, then? Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. Jud. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love. Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Jud. Heavy? belike it hath some burden then. Jul. And why not you? I cannot reach so high. I Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp. Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:" (1) A matchmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy. Injurious wasps! to feed on such sweet honey, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, whet of him? Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship (5) A challenge. (6) Bustle, stir. (7) Since. Pant. 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. Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd: And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known; Even with the speediest execution I will despatch him to the emperor's court. Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ'd [Exeunt Ant. and Pant. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of burning; And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd: The uncertain glory of an April day; Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto; And yet a thousand times it answers, no. ACT II. [Exeunt. Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- SCENE I.-Milan. An apartment in the Duke's phonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the emperor, And to commend their service to his will. Ant. Good company: with them shall Proteus go: And, in good time,-now will we break with him, Enter Proteus. Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! Ant. How now? what letter are you reading there? Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendation sent from Valentine, Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he writes How happily he lives, how well belov'd, Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will, And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the emperor's court; What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition4 thou shalt have from me. To-morrow be in readiness to go: Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; Please you, deliberate a day or two. Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent after thee: No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go. Reproach. (2) Break the matter to him. 3) Wonder. (4) Allowance. palace. Enter Valentine and Speed. Speed. Sir, your glove. Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but one. Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine :- Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia! Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Silvia ? Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? 5 Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast; 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 laugh'd, 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. Val. Are all these things perceived in me? 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 a urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. Hast thou observ'd that? even she I mean. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured. Val. 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. Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty. Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed. Val. How long hath she been deformed? Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still I see her beautiful. But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly' Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; Aside. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ: I Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request: But I will none of them; they are for you: would have had them writ more movingly. Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over : And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. Val. If it please me, madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: And so good morrow, servant. [Exit Silvia. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus for As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a going ungartered! Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing steeple! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to He being her pupil, to become her tutor. garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? to put on your That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter? hose. Val. 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. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease. Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you? Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :Peace, here she comes. Enter Silvia. Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure. Val. What figure? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. 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? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you indeed, sir; but did Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding pup-you perceive her earnest? pet! now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good Val. She gave me none, except an angry word, Val. I would, it were no worse. For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply, (4) There's the conclusion Or fearing else some messenger, that might her so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessmind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he ing; now should not the shoe speak a word for unto her lover. All this I speak in print; for in print I found weeps on:-now come I to my mother, (0, that she could speak now!) like a wood2 woman;-well, I it.-kiss her;-why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath jup and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the came-not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay leon, Love, can feed on the air, I am one that am the dust with my tears. nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Verona. A room in Julia's house. Enter Proteus and Julia. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips 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 the tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should; [Exit Julia. Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [Exeunt. 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 pebblestone, 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: al vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog.-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, (1) Kindred. (2) Crazy, distracted. Enter Panthino. Pan. 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 will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Lain. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.' Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thoul't 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! Laun. For fcar thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pan. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide!-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. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pan. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Milan. An apartment in the Duke's palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant Val. Mistress?" Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. Twere good, you knocked him. Thu. So do counterfeits. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quotes you my folly? Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madain; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Su. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. 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. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. 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. Sil. 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? Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? Val. 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? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well de serves The honour and regard of such a father. Val. I knew him as myself; for from our in- We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; He is as worthy for an empress' love, Val. 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:- (1) Ill betide. (2) Incite. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty. Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them priso ners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Enter Proteus. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !-Mistress, I be seech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. 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. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. [Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. Val. And how do yours? Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you.. I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: 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 chas'd sleep from my enthralled eves, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sor row. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. |