The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Select or Print the text

Original text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.

1. Out-l.
Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger.

2. Out.
If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em.


3. Out.
Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye.
If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

Sp.
Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines
That all the Trauailers doe feare so much.

Val.
My friends.

1. Out.
That's not so, sir: we are your enemies.

2. Out.
Peace: we'll heare him.

3. Out.
I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man.

Val.
Then know that I haue little wealth to loose;
A man I am, cross'd with aduersitie:
My riches, are these poore habiliments,
Of which, if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I haue.

2. Out.
Whether trauell you?

Val.
To Verona.

1. Out.
Whence came you?

Val.
From Millaine.

3. Out.
Haue you long soiourn'd there?

Val.
Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

1. Out.
What, were you banish'd thence?

Val.
I was.

2. Out.
For what offence?

Val.
For that which now torments me to rehearse;
I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent,
But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.

1. Out.
Why nere repent it, if it were done so;
But were you banisht for so small a fault?

Val.
I was, and held me glad of such a doome.

2. Out.
Haue you the Tongues?

Val.
My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy,
Or else I often had beene often miserable.

3. Out.
By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction.

1. Out.
We'll haue him: Sirs, a word.

Sp.
Master, be one of them: It's an honourable kinde of
theeuery.

Val.
Peace villaine.

2. Out.
Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take
to?

Val.
Nothing but my fortune.

3. Out.
Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen,
Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awfull men.
My selfe was from Verona banished,
For practising to steale away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke.

2. Out.
And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,
Who, in my moode, I stab'd vnto the heart.

1. Out.
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 lawlesse liues;
And partly seeing you are beautifide
With goodly shape; and by your owne report,
A Linguist, and a man of such perfection,
As we doe in our quality much want.

2. Out.
Indeede because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, aboue the rest, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our Generall?
To make a vertue of necessity,
And liue as we doe in this wildernesse?

3. Out.
What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say I, and be the captaine of vs all:
We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King.

1. Out.
But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest.

2. Out.
Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd.

Val.
I take your offer, and will liue with you,
Prouided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poore passengers.

3. Out.
No, we detest such vile base practises.
Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,
And show thee all the Treasure we haue got;
Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.

Pro.
Already haue I bin false to Valentine,
And now I must be as vniust to Thurio,
Vnder the colour of commending him,
I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.
But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vowes,
She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne
In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd;
And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips,
The least whereof would quell a louers hope:
Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue,
The more it growes, and fawneth on her still;
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And giue some euening Musique to her eare.

Th.
How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?

Pro.
I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue
Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe.

Th.
I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here.

Pro.
Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence.

Th.
Who, Siluia?

Pro.
I, Siluia, for your sake.

Th.
I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while.

Ho.
Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly;
I pray you why is it?

Iu.
Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry.

Ho.
Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where
you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that you
ask'd for.

Iu.
But shall I heare him speake.

Ho.
I that you shall.

Iu.
That will be Musique.

Ho.
Harke, harke.

Iu.
Is he among these?

Ho.
I: but peace, let's heare'm.
Song.
Who is Siluia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she,
The heauen such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty liues with kindnesse:
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Siluia, let vs sing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Vpon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring.

Ho.
How now? are you sadder then you were before;
How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not.

Iu.
You mistake: the Musitian likes me not.

Ho.
Why, my pretty youth?

Iu.
He plaies false (father.)

Ho.
How, out of tune on the strings.

Iu.
Not so: but yet / So false that he grieues my very
heart-strings.

Ho.
You haue a quicke eare.

Iu.
I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow
heart.

Ho.
I perceiue you delight not in Musique.

Iu.
Not a whit, when it iars so.

Ho.
Harke, what fine change is in the Musique.

Iu.
I: that change is the spight.

Ho.
You would haue them alwaies play but one thing.

Iu.
I would alwaies haue one play but one thing.
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on,
Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?

Ho.
I tell you what Launce his man told me, / He lou'd
her out of all nicke.

Iu.
Where is Launce?

Ho.
Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his
Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his
Lady.

Iu.
Peace, stand aside, the company parts.

Pro.
Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.

Th.
Where meete we?

Pro.
At Saint Gregories well.

Th.
Farewell.

Pro.
Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship.

Sil.
I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen)
Who is that that spake?

Pro.
One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth,
You would quickly learne to know him by his voice.

Sil.
Sir Protheus, as I take it.

Pro.
Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant.

Sil.
What's your will?

Pro.
That I may compasse yours.

Sil.
You haue your wish: my will is euen this,
That presently you hie you home to bed:
Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man:
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes?
Returne, returne and make thy loue amends:
For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare)
I am so farre from granting thy request,
That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite;
And by and by intend to chide my selfe,
Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro.
I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady,
But she is dead.

Iu.
'Twere false, if I should speake it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

Sil.
Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend
Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse)
I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?

Pro.
I likewise heare that Valentine is dead.

Sil.
And so suppose am I; for in her graue
Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried.

Pro.
Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth.

Sil.
Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine.

Iul.
He heard not that.

Pro.
Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe:
For since the substance of your perfect selfe
Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow, will I make true loue.

Iul.
If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil.
I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile send it:
And so, good rest.

Pro.
As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne.

Iul.
Host, will you goe?

Ho.
By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe.

Iul.
Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?

Ho.
Marry, at my house: / Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day.

Iul.
Not so: but it hath bin the longest night
That ere I watch'd, and the most heauiest.
Original text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Eglamore, Siluia.

Eg.
This is the houre that Madam Siluia
Entreated me to call, and know her minde:
Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in.
Madam, Madam.

Sil.
Who cals?

Eg.
Your seruant, and your friend;
One that attends your Ladiships command.

Sil.
Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow.

Eg.
As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe:
According to your Ladiships impose,
I am thus early come, to know what seruice
It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil.
Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman:
Thinke not I flatter (for I sweare I doe not)
Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what deere good will
I beare vnto the banish'd Valentine:
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.)
Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say
No griefe did euer come so neere thy heart,
As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide,
Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie:
Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine
To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad;
And for the waies are dangerous to passe,
I doe desire thy worthy company,
Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose.
Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)
But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe)
And on the iustice of my flying hence,
To keepe me from a most vnholy match,
Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I doe desire thee, euen from a heart
As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands,
To beare me company, and goe with me:
If not, to hide what I haue said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl.
Madam, I pitty much your grieuances,
Which, since I know they vertuously are plac'd,
I giue consent to goe along with you,
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much, I wish all good befortune you.
When will you goe?

Sil.
This euening comming.

Eg.
Where shall I meete you?

Sil.
At Frier Patrickes Cell,
Where I intend holy Confession.

Eg.
I will not faile your Ladiship: Good morrow
(gentle Lady.)

Sil.
Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.

Lau.
When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with
him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of a
puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three or
foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I haue
taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I
would teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present
to Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came no sooner
into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to her
Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule thing,
when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies: I
would haue (as one should say) one that takes vpon him
to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all things.
If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault vpon
me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd for't:
sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge: Hee
thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or foure
gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee had not
bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, but all the
chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one)
what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies
the third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin
acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and
goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend
(quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I
(quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I)
'twas I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no
more adoe, but whips me out of the chamber: how many
Masters would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be
sworne I haue sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath
stolne, otherwise he had bin executed: I haue stood on
the Pillorie for Geese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had
sufferd for't: thou think'st not of this now: nay, I
remember the tricke you seru'd me, when I tooke my leaue
of Madam Siluia: did not I bid thee still marke me, and
doe as I do; when did'st thou see me heaue vp my leg,
and make water against a Gentlewomans farthingale?
did'st thou euer see me doe such a tricke?

Pro.
Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well,
And will imploy thee in some seruice presently.

Iu.
In what you please, ile doe what I can.

Pro.
I hope thou wilt. / How now you whor-son pezant,
Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?

La.
Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you
bad me.

Pro.
And what saies she to my little Iewell?

La.
Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels you
currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pro.
But she receiu'd my dog?

La.
No indeede did she not: / Here haue I brought
him backe againe.

Pro.
What, didst thou offer her this from me?

La.
I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from me / By
the Hangmans boyes in the market place, / And then I
offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog / As big as ten of
yours, & therefore the guift the greater.

Pro.
Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe,
Or nere returne againe into my sight.
Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here;
A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame:
Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,
Partly that I haue neede of such a youth,
That can with some discretion doe my businesse:
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt;
But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,
Which (if my Augury deceiue me not)
Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.
Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,
Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;
She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me.

Iul.
It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token:
She is dead belike?

Pro.
Not so: I thinke she liues.

Iul.
Alas.

Pro.
Why do'st thou cry alas?

Iul.
I cannot choose
but pitty her.

Pro.
Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?

Iul.
Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well
As you doe loue your Lady Siluia:
She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue,
You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.
'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:
And thinking on it, makes me cry alas.

Pro.
Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall
This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,
I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture:
Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber,
Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie.

Iul.
How many women would doe such a message?
Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd
A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs;
Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loues her, he despiseth me,
Because I loue him, I must pitty him.
This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,
To binde him to remember my good will:
And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtaine;
To carry that, which I would haue refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.
I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,
But cannot be true seruant to my Master,
Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.
Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,
As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.

Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane
To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia.

Sil.
What would you with her, if that I be she?

Iul.
If you be she, I doe intreat your patience
To heare me speake the message I am sent on.

Sil.
From whom?

Iul.
From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam.

Sil.
Oh: he sends you for a Picture?

Iul.
I, Madam.

Sil.
Vrsula, bring my Picture there,
Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me,
One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget
Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow.

Iul.
Madam, please you peruse this Letter;
Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd
Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the Letter to your Ladiship.

Sil.
I pray thee let me looke on that againe.

Iul.
It may not be: good Madam pardon me.

Sil.
There, hold:
I will not looke vpon your Masters lines:
I know they are stuft with protestations,
And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake
As easily as I doe teare his paper.

Iul.
Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring.

Sil.
The more shame for him, that he sends it me;
For I haue heard him say a thousand times,
His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:
Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring,
Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong.

Iul.
She thankes you.

Sil.
What sai'st thou?

Iul.
I thanke you Madam, that you tender her:
Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much.

Sil.
Do'st thou know her?

Iul.
Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.
To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest
That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times.

Sil.
Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?

Iul.
I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow.

Sil.
Is she not passing faire?

Iul.
She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is,
When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well;
She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.
But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,
And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,
The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes,
And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as blacke as I.

Sil.
How tall was she?

Iul.
About my stature: for at Pentecost,
When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,
Our youth got me to play the womans part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,
Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements,
As if the garment had bin made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height,
And at that time I made her weepe a good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Thesus periury, and vniust flight;
Which I so liuely acted with my teares:
That my poore Mistris moued therewithall,
Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.

Sil.
She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)
Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;
I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this
For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her.
Farewell.

Iul.
And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.
A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.
I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.
Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:
Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke
If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine
Were full as louely, as is this of hers;
And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.
Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;
If that be all the difference in his loue,
Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:
Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine.:
I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:
What should it be that he respects in her,
But I can make respectiue in my selfe?
If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.
Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp,
For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme,
Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd;
And were there sence in his Idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake
That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,
I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes,
To make my Master out of loue with thee.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter certain Outlaws

FIRST OUTLAW
Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.

SECOND OUTLAW
If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.
Enter Valentine and Speed

THIRD OUTLAW
Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye;
If not, 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 crossed 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?

VALENTINE
To Verona.

FIRST OUTLAW
Whence came you?

VALENTINE
From Milan.

THIRD OUTLAW
Have you long sojourned there?

VALENTINE
Some sixteen months, and longer might have stayed,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

FIRST OUTLAW
What, were you banished thence?

VALENTINE
I was.

SECOND OUTLAW
For what offence?

VALENTINE
For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I killed a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage or base treachery.

FIRST OUTLAW
Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so.
But were you banished 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.
The Outlaws draw aside to talk

SPEED
Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of
thievery.

VALENTINE
Peace, villain!

SECOND OUTLAW
Tell us this: have you anything to take
to?

VALENTINE
Nothing but my fortune.

THIRD OUTLAW
Know then that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungoverned youth
Thrust from the company of awful men;
Myself was from Verona banished
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the Duke.

SECOND OUTLAW
And I from Mantua, for a gentleman
Who, in my mood, I stabbed unto the heart.

FIRST OUTLAW
And I for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose – for we cite our faults
That they may hold excused our lawless lives;
And partly, seeing you are beautified
With goodly shape, and by your own report
A linguist, and a man of such perfection
As we do in our quality much want –

SECOND OUTLAW
Indeed, because you are a banished man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you.
Are you content to be our general –
To make a virtue of necessity,
And live as we do in this wilderness?

THIRD OUTLAW
What sayst thou? Wilt thou be of our consort?
Say ‘ ay,’ and be the captain of us all.
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 offered.

VALENTINE
I take your offer, and will live with you,
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers.

THIRD OUTLAW
No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us; we'll bring thee to our crews,
And show thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene II
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.
Enter Thurio and Musicians
But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window,
And give some evening music to her ear.

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, some way off, the Host of the Inn, and Julia in
a page's costume

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.
The Musicians play

HOST
Hark, hark!

JULIA
Is he among these?

HOST
Ay; but, peace! Let's hear 'em.
Song
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 helped, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let us garlands bring.

HOST
How now? Are you sadder than you were before?
How do you, man? The music likes you not.

JULIA
You mistake; the musician likes me not.

HOST
Why, my pretty youth?

JULIA
He plays false, father.

HOST
How? Out of tune on the strings?

JULIA
Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very
heart-strings.

HOST
You have a quick ear.

JULIA
Ay, I would I 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 at an upstairs window

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,
Thinkest 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 betrothed; and art thou not ashamed
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

PROTEUS
I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

SILVIA
And so suppose am I; for in his grave
Assure thyself my love is buried.

PROTEUS
Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

SILVIA
Go 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

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 day.

JULIA
Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watched, and the most heaviest.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Eglamour

EGLAMOUR
This is the hour that Madam Silvia
Entreated me to call and know her mind;
There's some great matter she'd employ me in.
Madam, madam!
Enter Silvia at an upstairs window

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-accomplished.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banished 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 vowedst 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
Modern text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Launce, with 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 in a page's costume

PROTEUS
Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will employ thee in some service presently.

JULIA
In what you please; I will do what I can.

PROTEUS
I hope thou wilt. (To Launce) 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! Stayest 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 behaviour,
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 delivered 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 on 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 on 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.
Exit

JULIA
How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast entertained
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 with Attendants
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 there.
Exit one of the Attendants. She returns with a portrait
of Silvia
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
Delivered you a paper that I should not.
Julia takes back the letter she offers and gives Silvia
another one
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!
She tears the letter
I will not look upon your master's lines.
I know they are stuffed 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 sayest 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 judgement, 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 pinched 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 played,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part
And I was trimmed in Madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgements,
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.
Farewell.
Exeunt Silvia and 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 flattered 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 coloured 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 worshipped, kissed, 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 scratched out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee!
Exit
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2020 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL