The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them?

Launce. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her. 24

Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.

Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me. 28 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.

41 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?

Pro. 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

O sweet-suggesting Love! if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 8
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;
17
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 us'd 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 enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, 40
By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull pro-
ceeding.

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!

[Exit.

SCENE VII.-Verona. A Room in JULIA'S House.

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.

Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: And e'en in kind love I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, To lesson me and tell me some good mean How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. 8 Jul. 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, Love bade me swear, and Love bids me for- And when the flight is made to one so dear, 12

Provokes me to this threefold perjury:

swear.

Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home and go not.

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 64 If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone. I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: 68 A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. 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, 76
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
Luc. Pray heaven he prove so when you
come to him!

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong

To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
Only deserve my love by loving him,

Till the last step have brought me to my love; 36 And presently go with me to my chamber,

And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

cetta.

Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, madam.

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be illfavour'd.

Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. 56 Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st 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 scandaliz'd.

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.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

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 determin'd 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. 21
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 judg'd me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purpos'd 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

28 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

Duke. There is a lady of Verona here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
40 Now therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,
For long agone I have forgot to court;
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd,
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

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

Val. 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.

That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming.

[Exit.

Val. A woman sometime 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 he 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, comriend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels'

100

faces.

I am to break with thee of some affairs

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no

man,

That touch me near, wherein thou must be If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 105 secret.

'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

Duke. But she I mean is promis'd 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.

108 What's here?

Val. 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. 112 Val. What lets but one may enter at her window?

Duke. Her ehamber is aloft, far from the
ground,

And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.

116 Val. 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.
120
Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell
me that.

Duke. This very night; for Love is like a
child,

124

That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke. But hark thee; 1 will go to her alone: How shall I best convey the ladder thither? 128 Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it

Under a cloak that is of any length.

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.
'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaethon,--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?
156

Go, basc intruder! overweening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence.
160
Thank me for this more than for all the favours
Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
But i 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; 168
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from
hence.
[Exit.

164

Val. 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,

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the There is no music in the nightingale;
turn?

Val. Ay, my good lord.
Duke.
Then let me see thy cloak: 132
I'll get me one of such another length.
Val. 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. 136
[Pulls open VALENTINE'S cloak.
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; 140
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
Iving!

Mr herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them;
While I. their king, that thither them importune.
De curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd
them,

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, illumin'd, 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.

172

176

180

184

Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out.
Launce. Soho! soho!

Pro. What seest thou?

189

Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?
Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

192

196

Launce. Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

Pro. Who would'st thou strike?

200

Launce. Nothing.
Pro. Villain, forbear.

Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you, 204. Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, a word.

252

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.

Val. My ears are stopp'd and cannot hear As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself, 256 good news,

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia! Hath she forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

213

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me! What is your news?

216 Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news,

Regard thy danger, and along with me!
Val. I pray thee, Launce, and if thou seest
my boy,

Bid him make haste and meet me at the
North-gate.

Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valen-
tine.

260

Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! [Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. 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 From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I will not Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already, 220 tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet 'tis And now excess of it will make me surfeit. not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis a Doth Silvia know that I am banished? maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the for wages. She hath more qualities than a doom223 water-spaniel,-which is much in a bare Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force- Christian. [Pulling out a paper.] Here is the A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: catelog of her condition. Imprimis, She Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do no With them, upon her knees, her humble self; more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so be- therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She came them can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

228

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; 232
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.
Val. 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.

236

Enter SPEED.

280

240

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