The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (carter reed .txt) 📖

painted to make her fair, that no man counts
of her beauty.

VALENTINE.
How esteem'st 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.

VALENTINE.
Why?

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 ungartered!

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?

VALENTINE.
I have.

SPEED.
Are they not lamely writ?

VALENTINE.
No, boy, but as well as I can do them.
Peace! here she comes.

[Enter SILVIA.]

SPEED.
[Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!
Now will he interpret to her.

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.

[Gives a letter.]

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.

[Gives hack the letter.]

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.

[Exit.]

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 from Madam Silvia.

VALENTINE.
To whom?

SPEED.
To yourself; why, she woos 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.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE 2. Verona. A room in 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.

[Gives him a ring.]

PROTEUS.
Why, then, we'll make exchange. Here, take you this.

[Gives her another.]

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.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE 3. 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, 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, 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, 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 weep'st
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.
Will thou go?

LAUNCE.
Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE 4. Milan. A room in the DUKE'S palace.

[Enter SILVIA, VALENTINE, THURIO, and SPEED.]

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 knock'd 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?

VALENTINE.
Wise.

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.

THURIO.
How?

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