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

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 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.

[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 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
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 lov'd her out of
all nick.

JULIA.
Where is Launce?

HOST.
Gone to seek his dog, which to-morrow, 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, at her 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, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceiv'd 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 asham'd
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, above.]

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 watch'd, and the most heaviest.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE 3. 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'd employ me in.
Madam, madam!

[Enter SILVIA above, at her 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 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 lov'd; 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 plac'd,
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 4. The same.

[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
hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't; you shall
judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four
gentleman-like 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 stock 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 think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick
you serv'd 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 boy's clothes.]

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.
[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