THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA THE accomplished elegance of the lyrical verse in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, as well as the skilful, theatrically effective prose of Lance’s monologues, demonstrates that Shakespeare had already developed his writing skills when he composed this play. Nevertheless—and although the earliest mention of it is by Francis Meres in 1598—it may be his first work for the stage; for its dramatic structure is comparatively unambitious, and while some of its scenes are expertly constructed, those involving more than, at the most, four characters betray an uncertainty of technique suggestive of inexperience. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio. The friendship of the ‘two gentlemen’—Valentine and Proteus—is strained when both fall in love with Silvia. Proteus has followed Valentine from Verona to Milan, leaving behind his beloved Julia, who in turn follows him, disguised as a boy. At the climax of the action Valentine displays the depth of his friendship by offering Silvia to Proteus. The conflicting claims of love and friendship illustrated in this plot had been treated in a considerable body of English literature written by the time Shakespeare wrote his play in, or shortly before, 1590. John Lyly’s didactic fiction Euphues (1578) was an immensely popular example; and Lyly’s earliest plays, such as Campaspe (1584) and Endimion (1588), influenced Shakespeare’s style as well as his subject matter. Shakespeare was writing in a fashionable mode, but his story of Proteus and Julia is specifically (though perhaps indirectly) indebted to a prose fiction, Diana, written in Spanish by the Portuguese Jorge de Montemayor and first published in 1559. Many other influences on the young dramatist may be discerned: his idealized portrayal of Silvia and her relationship with Valentine derives from the medieval tradition of courtly love; Arthur Brooke’s long poem The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet (1562) provided some details of the plot; and the comic commentary on the romantic action supplied by the page-boy Speed and the more rustic clown Lance has dramatic antecedents in English plays such as Lyly’s early comedies. Though the play was presumably acted in Shakespeare’s time, its first recorded performance is in 1762, in a rewritten version at Drury Lane. Later performances have been sparse, and the play has succeeded best when subjected to adaptation, increasing its musical content, adjusting the emphasis of the last scene so as to reduce the shock of Valentine’s donation of Silvia to Proteus, and updating the setting. It can be seen as a dramatic laboratory in which Shakespeare first experimented with conventions of romantic comedy which he would later treat with a more subtle complexity, but it has its own charm. If the whole is not greater than the parts, some of the parts—such as Lance’s brilliant monologues, and the delightful scene (4.2) in which Proteus serenades his new love with ‘Who is Silvia?’ while his disguised old love, Julia, looks wistfully on—are wholly successful. And Lance’s dog, Crab, has the most scene-stealing non-speaking role in the canon: this is an experiment that Shakespeare did not repeat. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY DUKE of Milan SILVIA, his daughter PROTEUS, a gentleman of Verona LANCE, his clownish servant VALENTINE, a gentleman of Verona SPEED, his clownish servant THURIO, a foolish rival to Valentine ANTONIO, father of Proteus PANTHINO, his servant JULIA, beloved of Proteus LUCETTA, her waiting-woman HOST, where Julia lodges

EGLAMOUR, agent for Silvia in her escape

OUTLAWS

Servants, musicians

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine and Proteus
VALENTINE	Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus. Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Were’t not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honoured love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lov’st, love still, and thrive therein— Even as I would, when I to love begin.
PROTEUS	Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus when thou haply seest Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel. Wish me partaker in thy happiness When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger— If ever danger do environ thee— Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers; For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.
VALENTINE	And on a love-book pray for my success?
PROTEUS	Upon some book I love I’ll pray for thee.
VALENTINE	That’s on some shallow story of deep love— How young Leander crossed the Hellespont.
PROTEUS	That’s a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over-shoes in love.
VALENTINE	‘Tis true, for you are over-boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont.
PROTEUS	Over the boots? Nay, give me not the boots.
VALENTINE	No, I will not; for it boots thee not.
PROTEUS	What?
VALENTINE	To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment’s mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights. If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; If lost, why then a grievous labour won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
PROTEUS	So by your circumstance you call me fool.
VALENTINE	So by your circumstance I fear you’ll prove.
PROTEUS	‘Tis love you cavil at. I am not love.
VALENTINE	Love is your master, for he masters you, And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
PROTEUS	Yet writers say ‘As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so doting love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.’
VALENTINE	And writers say ‘As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turned to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.’ But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee That art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu. My father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipped.
PROTEUS	And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
VALENTINE	Sweet Proteus, no. Now let us take our leave. To Milan let me hear from thee by letters Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend; And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
PROTEUS	All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.
VALENTINE	As much to you at home; and so farewell. Exit
PROTEUS	He after honour hunts, I after love. He leaves his friends to dignify them more, I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at naught; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
(didascalia)	Enter Speed
SPEED	Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master?
PROTEUS	But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.
SPEED	Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already, And I have played the sheep in losing him.
PROTEUS	Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be a while away.
SPEED	You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?
PROTEUS	I do.
SPEED	Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
PROTEUS	A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
SPEED	This proves me still a sheep.
PROTEUS	True, and thy master a shepherd.
SPEED	Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
PROTEUS	It shall go hard but I’ll prove it by another.
SPEED	The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd. But I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. Therefore I am no sheep.
PROTEUS	The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep. Thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore thou art a sheep.
SPEED	Such another proof will make me cry ‘baa’.
PROTEUS	But dost thou hear: gav’st thou my letter to Julia?
SPEED	Ay, sir. I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
PROTEUS	Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
SPEED	If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
PROTEUS	Nay, in that you are astray. ‘Twere best pound you.
SPEED	Nay sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.
PROTEUS	You mistake. I mean the pound, a pinfold.
SPEED	From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over ‘Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
PROTEUS	But what said she?
SPEED	(nods, then says) Ay.
PROTEUS	Nod-ay? Why, that’s ‘noddy’.
SPEED	You mistook, sir. I say she did nod, and you ask me if she did nod, and I say ‘Ay’.
PROTEUS	And that set together is ‘noddy’.
SPEED	Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.
PROTEUS	No, no. You shall have it for bearing the letter.
SPEED	Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
PROTEUS	Why, sir, how do you bear with me?
SPEED	Marry, sir, the letter very orderly, having nothing but the word ‘noddy’ for my pains.
PROTEUS	Beshrew me but you have a quick wit.
SPEED	And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
PROTEUS	Come, come, open the matter in brief. What said she?
SPEED	Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered.
PROTEUS	(giving money) Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
SPEED	Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her.
PROTEUS	Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her?
SPEED	Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her, no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter. And being so hard to me, that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she’s as hard as steel.
PROTEUS	What said she? Nothing?
SPEED	No, not so much as ‘Take this for thy pains’. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I’ll commend you to my master.
(didascalia)	Exit
PROTEUS	Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, Being destined to a drier death on shore. I must go send some better messenger. I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Julia and Lucetta
JULIA	But say, Lucetta, now we are alone— Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
LUCETTA	Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
JULIA	Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
LUCETTA	Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind According to my shallow simple skill.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
LUCETTA	As of a knight well spoken, neat, and fine, But were I you, he never should be mine.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?
LUCETTA	Well of his wealth, but of himself, so-so.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?
LUCETTA	Lord, lord, to see what folly reigns in us!
JULIA	How now? What means this passion at his name?
LUCETTA	Pardon, dear madam, ‘tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
JULIA	Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
LUCETTA	Then thus: of many good, I think him best.
JULIA	Your reason?
LUCETTA	I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so because I think him so.
JULIA	And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
LUCETTA	Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
JULIA	Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me.
LUCETTA	Yet he of all the rest I think best loves ye.
JULIA	His little speaking shows his love but small.
LUCETTA	Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.
JULIA	They do not love that do not show their love.
LUCETTA	O, they love least that let men know their love.
JULIA	I would I knew his mind.
LUCETTA	(giving Proteus’ letter) Peruse this paper, madam.
JULIA	‘To Julia’—say, from whom?
LUCETTA	That the contents will show.
JULIA	Say, say—who gave it thee?
LUCETTA	Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you, but I being in the way Did in your name receive it. Pardon the fault, I pray.
JULIA	Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker. Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper, and conspire against my youth? Now trust me, ‘tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. There. Take the paper. She gives Lucetta the letter See it be returned, Or else return no more into my sight.
LUCETTA	To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
JULIA	Will ye be gone?
LUCETTA	That you may ruminate.
(didascalia)	Exit
JULIA	And yet I would I had o‘erlooked the letter. It were a shame to call her back again And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid And would not force the letter to my view, Since maids in modesty say ‘No’ to that Which they would have the profferer construe ‘Ay’. Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod. How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence When willingly I would have had her here. How angerly I taught my brow to frown When inward joy enforced my heart to smile. My penance is to call Lucetta back And ask remission for my folly past. What ho! Lucetta!
(didascalia)	Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA	What would your ladyship?
JULIA	Is’t near dinner-time?
LUCETTA	I would it were, That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid.
(didascalia)	She drops and picks up the letter
JULIA	What is’t that you Took up so gingerly?
LUCETTA	Nothing.
JULIA	Why didst thou stoop then?
LUCETTA	To take a paper up that I let fall.
JULIA	And is that paper nothing?
LUCETTA	Nothing concerning me.
JULIA	Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
LUCETTA	Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter.
JULIA	Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
LUCETTA	That I might sing it, madam, to a tune, Give me a note. Your ladyship can set.
JULIA	As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of ‘Light o’ love’.
LUCETTA	It is too heavy for so light a tune.
JULIA	Heavy? Belike it hath some burden, then?
LUCETTA	Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
JULIA	And why not you?
LUCETTA	I cannot reach so high.
JULIA	Let’s see your song.
(didascalia)	She tries to take the letters
JULIA	How now, minion!
LUCETTA	Keep tune there still. So you will sing it out. And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA	You do not?
LUCETTA	No, madam, ‘tis too sharp.
JULIA	You, minion, are too saucy.
LUCETTA	Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant. There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
JULIA	The mean is drowned with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA	Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA	This bauble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation. She tears the letter and drops the pieces Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie. You would be fing’ring them to anger me.
LUCETTA	(aside) She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased To be so angered with another letter.
(didascalia)	Exit
JULIA	Nay, would I were so angered with the same. O hateful hands, to tear such loving words; Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey And kill the bees that yield it with your stings. I’ll kiss each several paper for amends. She picks up some of the pieces of paper Look, here is writ ‘Kind Julia’—unkind Julia, As in revenge of thy ingratitude I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ ‘Love-wounded Proteus’. Poor wounded name, my bosom as a bed Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly healed; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice or thrice was ‘Proteus’ written down. Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away Till I have found each letter in the letter Except mine own name. That, some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock And throw it thence into the raging sea. Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ: ‘Poor forlorn Proteus’, ‘passionate Proteus’, ‘To the sweet Julia’—that I’ll tear away. And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it to his complaining names. Thus will I fold them, one upon another. Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA	Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.
JULIA	Well, let us go.
LUCETTA	What, shall these papers lie like telltales here?
JULIA	If you respect them, best to take them up.
LUCETTA	Nay, I was taken up for laying them down. Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
JULIA	I see you have a month’s mind to them.
LUCETTA	Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see. I see things too, although you judge I wink.
JULIA	Come, come, will’t please you go?
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Panthino
ANTONIO	Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
PANTHINO	‘Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
ANTONIO	Why, what of him?
PANTHINO	He wondered that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out— Some to the wars, to try their fortune there, Some to discover islands far away, Some to the studious universities. For any or for all these exercises He said that Proteus your son was meet, And did request me to importune you To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age In having known no travel in his youth.
ANTONIO	Nor need’st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have considered well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutored in the world. Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time. Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
PANTHINO	I think your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the Emperor in his royal court.
ANTONIO	I know it well.
PANTHINO	‘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.
ANTONIO	I like thy counsel. Well hast thou advised, And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known. Even with the speediest expedition I will dispatch him to the Emperor’s court.
PANTHINO	Tomorrow, may it please you, Don Alfonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the Emperor And to commend their service to his will.
ANTONIO	Good company. With them shall Proteus go.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus with a letter. He does not see Antonio and Panthino
ANTONIO	And in good time. Now will we break with him.
PROTEUS	Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart. Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn. O that our fathers would applaud our loves To seal our happiness with their consents. O heavenly Julia!
ANTONIO	How now, what letter are you reading there?
PROTEUS	May’t please your lordship, ‘tis a word or two Of commendations sent from Valentine, Delivered by a friend that came from him.
ANTONIO	Lend me the letter. Let me see what news.
PROTEUS	There is no news, my lord, but that he writes How happily he lives, how well beloved And daily gracèd by the Emperor, Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
ANTONIO	And how stand you affected to his wish?
PROTEUS	As one relying on your lordship’s will, And not depending on his friendly wish.
ANTONIO	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 resolved that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the Emperor’s court. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. Tomorrow be in readiness to go. Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
PROTEUS	My lord, I cannot be so soon provided. Please you deliberate a day or two.
ANTONIO	Look what thou want’st shall be sent after thee. No more of stay. Tomorrow thou must go. Come on, Panthino. You shall be employed To hasten on his expedition.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Antonio and Panthino
PROTEUS	Thus have I shunned the fire for fear of burning And drenched me in the sea where I am drowned. I feared to show my father Julia’s letter Lest he should take exceptions to my love, And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love. O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, your father calls for you. He is in haste, therefore I pray you go.
PROTEUS	Why, this it is. My heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers ‘No’.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine and Speed
SPEED	(offering Valentine a glove) Sir, your glove.
VALENTINE	Not mine. My gloves are on.
SPEED	Why then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
VALENTINE	Ha, let me see. Ay, give it me, it’s mine— Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine. Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
SPEED	Madam Silvia, Madam Silvia!
VALENTINE	How now, sirrah?
SPEED	She is not within hearing, sir.
VALENTINE	Why, sir, who bade you call her?
SPEED	Your worship, sir, or else I mistook.
VALENTINE	Well, you’ll still be too forward.
SPEED	And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
VALENTINE	Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?
SPEED	She that your worship loves?
VALENTINE	Why, how know you that I am in love?
SPEED	Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC; 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 laughed, 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.
VALENTINE	Are all these things perceived in me?
SPEED	They are all perceived without ye.
VALENTINE	Without me? They cannot.
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 an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady.
VALENTINE	But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
SPEED	She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?
VALENTINE	Hast thou observed that? Even she I mean.
SPEED	Why sir, I know her not.
VALENTINE	Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know’st her not?
SPEED	Is she not hard-favoured, sir?
VALENTINE	Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
SPEED	Sir, I know that well enough.
VALENTINE	What dost thou know?
SPEED	That she is not so fair as of you well favoured.
VALENTINE	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.
VALENTINE	How painted? And how out of count?
SPEED	Marry, sir, so 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. 85
SPEED	Are they not lamely writ?
VALENTINE	No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace, here she comes.
(didascalia)	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 e’en! 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 enjoined 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. He gives her 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. She offers him the letter 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. She presses the letter upon him Nay, take them.
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.
(didascalia)	Exit
SPEED	(aside) 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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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. She gives him a ring Keep this remembrance for thy Julia’s sake.
PROTEUS	Why then, we’ll make exchange. Here, take you this. He gives her a ring
JULIA	And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
(didascalia)	They 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. (Julia weeps) Nay, not thy tide of tears, That tide will stay me longer than I should. Julia, farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit Julia
PROTEUS	What, gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do. It cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, you are stayed for.
PROTEUS	Go, I come, I come.— Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lance with his dog Crab
LANCE	(to the audience) Nay, ‘twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Lances 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, 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. 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 moved 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Lance, 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.
LANCE	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?
LANCE	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— Lance puts his hand over Panthino’s mouth Why dost thou stop my mouth?
LANCE	For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PANTHINO	Where should I lose my tongue?
LANCE	In thy tale.
PANTHINO	In thy tail!
LANCE	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.
LANCE	Sir, call me what thou darest.
PANTHINO	Wilt thou go?
LANCE	Well, I will go. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed
SILVIA	Servant!
VALENTINE	Mistress?
SPEED	(to Valentine) Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
VALENTINE	Ay, boy, it’s for love.
SPEED	Not of you. 5
VALENTINE	Of my mistress, then.
SPEED	‘Twere good you knocked him.
SILVIA	(to Valentine) 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.
THORIO	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 you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.
THURIO	Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
VALENTINE	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.
SILVIA	No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke
DUKE	Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father is in good health, What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news?
VALENTINE	My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence.
DUKE	Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman?
VALENTINE	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?
VALENTINE	Ay, my good lord, a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.
DUKE	You know him well?
VALENTINE	I knew him as myself, for from our infancy We have conversed, and spent our hours together. And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus—for that’s his name— Made use and fair advantage of his days: His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellowed, but his judgement ripe. And in a word—for far behind his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow— He is complete, in feature and in mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
DUKE	Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good He is as worthy for an empress’ love As meet to be an emperor’s counsellor. Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me With commendation from great potentates, And here he means to spend his time awhile. I think ’tis no unwelcome news to you.
VALENTINE	Should I have wished a thing it had been he.
DUKE	Welcome him then according to his worth. Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; For Valentine, I need not cite him to it. I will send him hither to you presently.
(didascalia)	Exit
VALENTINE	This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes locked in her crystal looks.
SILVIA	Belike that now she hath enfranchised them Upon some other pawn for fealty.
VALENTINE	Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
SILVIA	Nay, then he should be blind, and being blind How could he see his way to seek out you?
VALENTINE	Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
THURIO	They say that love hath not an eye at all.
VALENTINE	To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself. Upon a homely object love can wink.
SILVIA	Have done, have done. Here comes the gentleman.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
VALENTINE	Welcome, dear Proteus. Mistress, I beseech you Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SILVIA	His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wished to hear from.
VALENTINE	Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
SILVIA	Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
PROTEUS	Not so, sweet lady, but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
VALENTINE	Leave off discourse of disability. Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
PROTEUS	My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
SILVIA	And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
PROTEUS	I’ll die on him that says so but yourself.
SILVIA	That you are welcome?
PROTEUS	That you are worthless.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
(didascalia)	SERVANT
PROTEUS	Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
(didascalia)	I wait upon his pleasure. Exit the Servant
SILVIA	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.
PROTEUS	We’ll both attend upon your ladyship.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Silvia and Thurio
VALENTINE	Now tell me, how do all from whence you came?
PROTEUS	Your friends are well, and have them much commended.
VALENTINE	And how do yours?
PROTEUS	I left them all in health.
VALENTINE	How does your lady, and how thrives your love?
PROTEUS	My tales of love were wont to weary you. I know you joy not in a love-discourse.
VALENTINE	Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now. I have done penance for contemning love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punished 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 chased sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart’s sorrow. O gentle Proteus, love’s a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me as I confess There is no woe to his correction, Nor to his service no such joy on earth. Now, no discourse except it be of love. Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep Upon the very naked name of love.
PROTEUS	Enough. I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so?
VALENTINE	Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
PROTEUS	No, but she is an earthly paragon.
VALENTINE	Call her divine.
PROTEUS	I will not flatter her.
VALENTINE	O flatter me; for love delights in praises.
PROTEUS	When I was sick you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you.
VALENTINE	Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
PROTEUS	Except my mistress.
VALENTINE	Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love.
PROTEUS	Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
VALENTINE	And I will help thee to prefer her, too. She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear my lady’s train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.
PROTEUS	Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this?
VALENTINE	Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing. She is alone.
PROTEUS	Then let her alone.
VALENTINE	Not for the world. Why man, she is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me that I do not dream on thee Because thou seest me dote upon my love. My foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along, and I must after; For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
PROTEUS	But she loves you?
VALENTINE	Ay, and we are betrothed. Nay more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determined of: how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and ‘greed on for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
PROTEUS	Go on before. I shall enquire you forth. I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use, And then I’ll presently attend you.
VALENTINE	Will you make haste?
PROTEUS	I will. Exit Valentine Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine eye, or Valentine’s praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus? She is fair, and so is Julia that I love— That I did love, for now my love is thawed, Which like a waxen image ‘gainst a fire Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was wont. O, but I love his lady too-too much, And that’s the reason I love him so little. How shall I dote on her with more advice, That thus without advice begin to love her? ‘Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled my reason’s light. But when I look on her perfections There is no reason but I shall be blind. If I can check my erring love I will, If not, to compass her I’ll use my skill. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Speed, and Lance with his dog Crab
SPEED	Lance, by mine honesty, welcome to Milan.
LANCE	Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never undone till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess say ‘Welcome’.
SPEED	Come on, you madcap. I’ll to the alehouse with you presently, where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam Julia?
LANCE	Marry, after they closed in earnest they parted very fairly in jest.
SPEED	But shall she marry him?
LANCE	No.
SPEED	How then, shall he marry her?
LANCE	No, neither.
SPEED	What, are they broken?
LANCE	No, they are both as whole as a fish.
SPEED	Why then, how stands the matter with them?
LANCE	Marry, thus: when it stands well with him it stands well with her.
SPEED	What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
LANCE	What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me.
SPEED	What thou sayst?
LANCE	Ay, and what I do too. Look thee, I’ll but lean, and my staff under-stands me.
SPEED	It stands under thee indeed.
LANCE	Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. SPEED But tell me true, will’t be a match?
LANCE	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.
LANCE	Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.
SPEED	‘Tis well that I get it so. But Lance, how sayst thou that my master is become a notable lover?
LANCE	I never knew him otherwise.
SPEED	Than how?
LANCE	A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
SPEED	Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak’st me.
LANCE	Why, fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy master.
SPEED	I tell thee my master is become a hot lover.
LANCE	Why, I tell thee I care not, though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse. If not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
SPEED	Why?
LANCE	Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?
SPEED	At thy service.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
PROTEUS	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 e‘en that power which gave me first my oath Provokes me to this threefold perjury. Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear. O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinned Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 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 t’exchange the bad for better. Fie, fie, unreverent tongue, to call her bad Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. I cannot leave to love, and yet I do. 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, Rememb’ring 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 used 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 enraged, will banish Valentine; For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter. But Valentine being gone, I’ll quickly cross By some sly trick blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Julia and Lucetta
JULIA	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 charactered and engraved, To lesson me, and tell me some good mean How with my honour I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.
LUCETTA	Alas, the way is wearisome and long.
JULIA	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, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection as Sir Proteus.
LUCETTA	Better forbear till Proteus make return.
JULIA	O, know’st thou not his looks are my soul’s food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
LUCETTA	I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, But qualify the fire’s extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
JULIA	The more thou damm‘st it up, the more it burns. The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage. But when his fair course is not hindered He makes sweet music with th’enamelled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course. I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step Till the last step have brought me to my love. And there I’ll rest as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
LUCETTA	But in what habit will you go along?
JULIA	Not like a woman, for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men. Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page.
LUCETTA	Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
JULIA	No, girl, I’ll knit it up in silken strings With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be.
LUCETTA	What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
JULIA	That fits as well as ‘Tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale?’ Why, e’en what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta.
LUCETTA	You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
JULIA	Out, out, Lucetta. That will be ill-favoured.
LUCETTA	A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.
JULIA	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 scandalized.
LUCETTA	If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.
JULIA	Nay, that I will not.
LUCETTA	Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who’s displeased when you are gone. I fear me he will scarce be pleased withal.
JULIA	That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
LUCETTA	All these are servants to deceitful men.
JULIA	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, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
LUCETTA	Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him.
JULIA	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, And presently go with me to my chamber 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus
DUKE	Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile. We have some secrets to confer about. Exit Thurio Now tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me?
PROTEUS	My gracious lord, that which I would discover 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 determined 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.
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 judged me fast asleep, And oftentimes have purposed 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 shunned— I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be conveyed away.
PROTEUS	Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean 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 That I had any light from thee of this.
PROTEUS	Adieu, my lord. Sir Valentine is coming. Exit Enter Valentine
DUKE	Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VALENTINE	Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.
DUKE	Be they of much import?
VALENTINE	The tenor of them doth but signify My health and happy being at your court.
DUKE	Nay then, no matter. Stay with me awhile. I am to break with thee of some affairs That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. ‘Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.
VALENTINE	I know it well, my lord; and sure the match Were rich and honourable. Besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE	No, trust me. She is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, Neither regarding that she is my child Nor fearing me as if I were her father. And may I say to thee, this pride of hers Upon advice hath drawn my love from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherished by her child-like duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in. Then let her beauty be her wedding dower, For me and my possessions she esteems not.
VALENTINE	What would your grace have me to do in this?
DUKE	There is a lady of Verona here Whom I affect, but she is nice, and coy, And naught esteems my aged eloquence. Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor— For long agone I have forgot to court, Besides, the fashion of the time is changed— How and which way I may bestow myself To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE	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.
DUKE	But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VALENTINE	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 she do chide, ‘tis not to have you gone, Forwhy 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, commend, extol their graces; Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces. That man that hath a tongue I say is no man If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
DUKE	But she I mean is promised 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.
VALENTINE	Why then I would resort to her by night.
DUKE	Ay, but the doors be locked and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night.
VALENTINE	What lets but one may enter at her window?
DUKE	Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.
VALENTINE	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.
DUKE	Now as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
VALENTINE	When would you use it? Pray sir, tell me that.
DUKE	This very night; for love is like a child That longs for everything that he can come by.
VALENTINE	By seven o’clock I’ll get you such a ladder.
DUKE	But hark thee: I will go to her alone. How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
VALENTINE	It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length.
DUKE	A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
VALENTINE	Ay, my good lord.
DUKE	Then let me see thy cloak, I’ll get me one of such another length.
VALENTINE	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. He lifts Valentine’s cloak and finds a letter and a rope-ladder 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. (Reads) ‘My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, 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 lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blessed them, Because myself do want my servants’ fortune. I curse myself for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should be.’ What’s here? ‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee’? ‘Tis so, and here’s the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaeton, 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? Go, base intruder, over-weening slave, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, And think my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence. Thank me for this more than for all the favours Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee. But if 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, But as thou lov’st thy life, make speed from hence.
(didascalia)	Exit
VALENTINE	And why not death, rather than living torment? To die is to be banished from myself, And Silvia is my self. Banished 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 There is no music in the nightingale. 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 Fostered, illumined, cherished, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus and Lance
PROTEUS	Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LANCE	So-ho, so-ho!
PROTEUS	What seest thou?
LANCE	Him we go to find. There’s not a hair on’s head but ‘tis a Valentine.
PROTEUS	Valentine?
VALENTINE	No.
PROTEUS	Who then—his spirit?
VALENTINE	Neither.
PROTEUS	What then?
VALENTINE	Nothing.
LANCE	Can nothing speak? He threatens Valentine Master, shall I strike?
PROTEUS	Who wouldst thou strike?
LANCE	Nothing.
PROTEUS	Villain, forbear.
LANCE	Why, sir, I’ll strike nothing. I pray you—
PROTEUS	Sirrah, I say forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.
VALENTINE	My ears are stopped, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possessed them.
PROTEUS	Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
VALENTINE	Is Silvia dead?
PROTEUS	No, Valentine.
VALENTINE	No Valentine indeed, for sacred Silvia. Hath she forsworn me?
PROTEUS	No, Valentine.
VALENTINE	No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. What is your news?
LANCE	Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.
PROTEUS	That thou art banished. O that’s the news: From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
VALENTINE	O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banishèd?
PROTEUS	Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom, Which unreversed stands in effectual force, A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears. Those at her father’s churlish feet she tendered, With them, upon her knees, her humble self, Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them As if but now they waxed pale, for woe. But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire, But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die. Besides, her intercession chafed him so When she for thy repeal was suppliant That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there.
VALENTINE	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.
PROTEUS	Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament‘st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay thou canst not see thy love. Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lover’s staff. Walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts. Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, shall be delivered 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. As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me.
VALENTINE	I pray thee, Lance, an if thou seest my boy Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North Gate.
PROTEUS	Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
VALENTINE	O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Proteus and Valentine
LANCE	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 yet ’tis a woman, but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet ‘tis a milkmaid; yet ‘tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet ’tis a maid, for she is her master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. He takes out a paper Here is the catalogue of her conditions. ‘Imprimis, she can fetch and carry’—why, a horse can do no more. Nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry, therefore is she better than a jade. ‘Item, she can milk.’ Look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.
(didascalia)	Enter Speed
SPEED	How now, Signor Lance, what news with your mastership?
LANCE	With my master’s ship? Why, it is at sea.
SPEED	Well, your old vice still, mistake the word. What news then in your paper?
LANCE	The blackest news that ever thou heard’st.
SPEED	Why, man, how ‘black’?
LANCE	Why, as black as ink.
SPEED	Let me read them.
LANCE	Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou canst not read.
SPEED	Thou liest. I can.
LANCE	I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?
SPEED	Marry, the son of my grandfather.
LANCE	O illiterate loiterer, it was the son of thy grand-mother. This proves that thou canst not read.
SPEED	Come, fool, come. Try me in thy paper.
LANCE	(giving Speed the paper) There: and Saint Nicholas be thy speed.
SPEED	‘Imprimis, she can milk.’
LANCE	Ay, that she can.
SPEED	‘Item, she brews good ale.’
LANCE	And thereof comes the proverb ‘Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale’.
SPEED	‘Item, she can sew.’
LANCE	That’s as much as to say ‘Can she so?’
SPEED	‘Item, she can knit.’
LANCE	What need a man care for a stock with a wench when she can knit him a stock?
SPEED	‘Item, she can wash and scour.’
LANCE	A special virtue, for then she need not be washed and scoured.
SPEED	‘Item, she can spin.’
LANCE	Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath many nameless virtues.’
LANCE	That’s as much as to say ‘bastard virtues’, that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.
SPEED	Here follows her vices.
LANCE	Close at the heels of her virtues.
SPEED	‘Item, she is not to be broken with fasting, in respect of her breath.’
LANCE	Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath a sweet mouth.’
LANCE	That makes amends for her sour breath.
SPEED	‘Item, she doth talk in her sleep.’
LANCE	It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.
SPEED	‘Item, she is slow in words.’
LANCE	O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a woman’s only virtue. I pray thee out with’t, and place it for her chief virtue.
SPEED	‘Item, she is proud.’
LANCE	Out with that, too. It was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath no teeth.’
LANCE	I care not for that, neither, because I love crusts.
SPEED	‘Item, she is curst.’
LANCE	Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
SPEED	‘Item, she will often praise her liquor.’
LANCE	If her liquor be good, she shall. If she will not, I will; for good things should be praised.
SPEED	‘Item, she is too liberal.’
LANCE	Of her tongue she cannot, for that’s writ down she is slow of. Of her purse she shall not, for that I’ll keep shut. Now of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.’
LANCE	Stop there. I’ll have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. 347
SPEED	‘Item, she hath more hair than wit’—
LANCE	‘More hair than wit.’ It may be. I’ll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt. The hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What’s next?
SPEED	‘And more faults than hairs’—
LANCE	That’s monstrous. O that that were out!
SPEED	‘And more wealth than faults.’
LANCE	Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I’ll have her, and if it be a match—as nothing is impossible—
SPEED	What then?
LANCE	Why then will I tell thee that thy master stays for thee at the North Gate.
SPEED	For me?
LANCE	For thee? Ay, who art thou? He hath stayed for a better man than thee.
SPEED	And must I go to him?
LANCE	Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn.
SPEED	Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters! Exit
LANCE	Now will he be swinged for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I’ll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke and Thurio
DUKE	Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you Now Valentine is banished from her sight.
THURIO	Since his exile she hath despised me most, Forsworn my company, and railed at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her.
DUKE	This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
DUKE	How now, Sir Proteus, is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone?
PROTEUS	Gone, my good lord.
DUKE	My daughter takes his going grievously?
PROTEUS	A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
DUKE	So I believe, but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee— For thou hast shown some sign of good desert— Makes me the better to confer with thee.
PROTEUS	Longer than I prove loyal to your grace Let me not live to look upon your grace.
DUKE	Thou know’st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter?
PROTEUS	I do, my lord.
DUKE	And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will?
PROTEUS	She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
DUKE	Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio?
PROTEUS	The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, Three things that women highly hold in hate.
DUKE	Ay, but she’ll think that it is spoke in hate.
PROTEUS	Ay, if his enemy deliver it. Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.
DUKE	Then you must undertake to slander him.
PROTEUS	And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do. ’Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially against his very friend.
DUKE	Where your good word cannot advantage him Your slander never can endamage him. Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend.
PROTEUS	You have prevailed, my lord. If I can do it By aught that I can speak in his dispraise She shall not long continue love to him. But say this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.
THURIO	Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Lest it should ravel and be good to none You must provide to bottom it on me; Which must be done by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.
DUKE	And Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind Because we know, on Valentine’s report, You are already love’s firm votary, And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large. For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And for your friend’s sake will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, To hate young Valentine and love my friend.
PROTEUS	As much as I can do, I will effect. But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough. You must lay lime to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.
DUKE	Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
PROTEUS	Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity; For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sinews, Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire-lamenting elegies, Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window With some sweet consort. To their instruments Tune a deploring dump. The night’s dead silence Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
DUKE	This discipline shows thou hast been in love.
THURIO	And thy advice this night I’ll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen well skilled in music. I have a sonnet that will serve the turn To give the onset to thy good advice.
DUKE	About it, gentlemen.
PROTEUS	We’ll wait upon your grace till after supper, And afterward determine our proceedings.
DUKE	Even now about it. I will pardon you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thurio and Proteus at one door, and the Duke at another

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws
FIRST OUTLAW	Fellows, stand fast. I see a passenger.
SECOND OUTLAW	If there be ten, shrink not, but down with ‘em.
(didascalia)	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	(to Valentine) Sir, we are undone. These are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much.
VALENTINE	(to the Outlaws) 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 is 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. 20
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 had been often 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 confer
SPEED	(to Valentine) 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 aweful 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 suchlike 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

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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. But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window, And give some evening music to her ear.
(didascalia)	Enter Thurio with Musicians
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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Host, and Julia, dressed as a page-boy.
THURIO	They talk apart
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.
HOST	Hark, hark.
JULIA	Is he among these?
HOST	Ay. But peace, let’s hear ’em.
(didascalia)	Song
HOST	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 Lance his man told me, he loved her out of all nick.
JULIA	Where is Lance?
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thurio and the Musicians
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia, above
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, Think’st 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. Exit
PROTEUS	As wretches have o’ernight, That wait for execution in the morn.
(didascalia)	Exit
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir 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!
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia [above]
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 vowed’st 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lance and his dog Crab
LANCE	(to the audience) 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 gentleman-like dogs under the Duke’s table. He had not been there—bless the mark—a pissing-while but all the chamber smelled 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. (To Crab) Thou think’st 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?
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus, with Julia dressed as a page-boy
PROTEUS	(to Julia) 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.—How now, you whoreson peasant, Where have you been these two days loitering?
LANCE	Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
PROTEUS	And what says she to my little jewel?
LANCE	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?
LANCE	No indeed did she not. Here have I brought him back again.
PROTEUS	What, didst thou offer her this from me?
LANCE	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. Stay’st thou to vex me here?
(didascalia)	Exit Lance with Crab
PROTEUS	A slave, that still on 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 yon 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. (Pointing) 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.
(didascalia)	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-confirmèd 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia
JULIA	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. [An attendant brings a picture] 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. She gives Silvia a letter Pardon me, madam, I have unadvised Delivered you a paper that I should not. She takes back the letter and gives Silvia another letter 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. 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. She tears the letter
JULIA	Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. She offers Silvia a 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 sayst 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 beholden 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 lov’st her. Farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
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. She picks up the portrait 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

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Eglamour
EGLAMOUR	The sun begins to gild the western sky, And now it is about the very hour That Silvia at Friar Patrick’s cell should meet me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition.
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia
EGLAMOUR	See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening!
SILVIA	Amen, amen. Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey wall. I fear I am attended by some spies.
EGLAMOUR	Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off. If we recover that, we are sure enough.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia dressed as a pageboy
THURIO	Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
PROTEUS	O sir, I find her milder than she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
THURIO	What? That my leg is too long?
PROTEUS	No, that it is too little.
THURIO	I’ll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.
JULIA	(aside) But love will not be spurred to what it loathes.
THURIO	What says she to my face?
PROTEUS	She says it is a fair one.
THURIO	Nay, then, the wanton lies. My face is black.
PROTEUS	But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, ‘Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes’.
JULIA	(aside) ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes, For I had rather wink than look on them.
THURIO	How likes she my discourse?
PROTEUS	Ill, when you talk of war.
THURIO	But well when I discourse of love and peace.
JULIA	(aside) But better indeed when you hold your peace.
THURIO	What says she to my valour?
PROTEUS	O sir, she makes no doubt of that.
JULIA	(aside) She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
THURIO	What says she to my birth?
PROTEUS	That you are well derived.
JULIA	(aside) True: from a gentleman to a fool.
THURIO	Considers she my possessions?
PROTEUS	O ay, and pities them.
THURIO	Wherefore?
JULIA	(aside) That such an ass should owe them.
PROTEUS	That they are out by lease.
JULIA	Here comes the Duke.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke
DUKE	How now, Sir Proteus. How now, Thurio. Which of you saw Eglamour of late?
THURIO	Not I.
PROTEUS	Nor I.
DUKE	Saw you my daughter?
PROTEUS	Neither.
DUKE	Why then, she’s fled unto that peasant Valentine, And Eglamour is in her company. ’Tis true, for Friar Laurence met them both As he in penance wandered through the forest. Him he knew well, and guessed that it was she, But being masked, he was not sure of it. Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick’s cell this even, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; Therefore I pray you stand not to discourse, But mount you presently, and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain foot That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
(didascalia)	Exit
THURIO	Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. I’ll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. [exit]
PROTEUS	And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [Exit]
JULIA	And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit]

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws with Silvia captive
FIRST OUTLAW	Come, come, be patient. We must bring you to our captain.
SILVIA	A thousand more mischances than this one Have learned me how to brook this patiently.
SECOND OUTLAW	Come, bring her away.
FIRST OUTLAW	Where is the gentleman that was with her?
THIRD OUTLAW	Being nimble-footed he hath outrun us; But Moses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood. There is our captain. We’ll follow him that’s fled. The thicket is beset, he cannot scape.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Second and Third Outlaws
FIRST OUTLAW	(to Silvia) Come, I must bring you to our captain’s cave. Fear not. He bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly.
SILVIA	(aside) O Valentine! This I endure for thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine
VALENTINE	How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale’s complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was. Repair me with thy presence, Silvia. Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain. What hallooing and what stir is this today? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well, yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine. Who’s this comes here? He stands aside.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia dressed as a pageboy
PROTEUS	Madam, this service I have done for you— Though you respect not aught your servant doth— To hazard life, and rescue you from him That would have forced your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look. A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this I am sure you cannot give.
VALENTINE	(aside) How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love lend me patience to forbear awhile.
SILVIA	O miserable, unhappy that I am!
PROTEUS	Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came. But by my coming I have made you happy.
SILVIA	By thy approach thou mak’st me most unhappy.
JULIA	(aside) And me, when he approacheth to your presence.
SILVIA	Had I been seized by a hungry lion I would have been a breakfast to the beast Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O heaven be judge how I love Valentine, Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul. And full as much, for more there cannot be, I do detest false perjured Proteus. Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.
PROTEUS	What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look! O, ’tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they’re beloved.
SILVIA	When Proteus cannot love where he’s beloved. Read over Julia’s heart, thy first, best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths, and all those oaths Descended into perjury to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two, And that’s far worse than none. Better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one, Thou counterfeit to thy true friend.
PROTEUS	In love Who respects friend?
SILVIA	All men but Proteus.
PROTEUS	Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arm’s end, And love you ’gainst the nature of love: force ye.
SILVIA	O heaven!
PROTEUS	(assailing her) I’ll force thee yield to my desire.
VALENTINE	(coming forward) Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion.
PROTEUS	Valentine!
VALENTINE	Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love, For such is a friend now. Treacherous man, Thou hast beguiled my hopes. Naught but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive. Thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted, when one’s right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest. O time most accursed, ’Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
PROTEUS	My shame and guilt confounds me. Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender’t here. I do as truly suffer As e’er I did commit.
VALENTINE	Then I am paid, And once again I do receive thee honest. Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth. For these are pleased; By penitence th’ Eternal’s wrath’s appeased. And that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
JULIA	O me unhappy! She faints
PROTEUS	Look to the boy.
VALENTINE	Why, boy! Why wag, how now? What’s the matter? Look up. Speak.
JULIA	O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which out of my neglect was never done.
PROTEUS	Where is that ring, boy?
JULIA	Here ’tis. This is it. She gives Proteus the ring
PROTEUS	How, let me see! Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.
JULIA	O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook. She offers Proteus another ring This is the ring you sent to Silvia.
PROTEUS	But how cam’st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia.
JULIA	And Julia herself did give it me, And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
PROTEUS	How? Julia?
JULIA	Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths And entertained ’em deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root? O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment, if shame live In a disguise of love. It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds.
PROTEUS	Than men their minds! ‘Tis true. O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect. That one error Fills him with faults, makes him run through all th’ sins; Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. What is in Silvia’s face but I may spy More fresh in Julia’s, with a constant eye?
VALENTINE	Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be blessed to make this happy close. ’Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. Julia and Proteus join hands
PROTEUS	Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.
JULIA	And I mine.
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws with the Duke and Thurio as captives
OUTLAWS	A prize, a prize, a prize!
VALENTINE	Forbear, forbear, I say. It is my lord the Duke. The Outlaws release the Duke and Thurio (To the Duke) Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced, Banished Valentine.
DUKE	Sir Valentine!
THURIO	Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine.
VALENTINE	Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death. Come not within the measure of my wrath. Do not name Silvia thine. If once again, Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands. Take but possession of her with a touch— I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
THURIO	Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not. I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
DUKE	The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done, And leave her on such slight conditions. Now by the honour of my ancestry I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress’ love. Know then I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy unrivalled merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well derived. Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.
VALENTINE	I thank your grace. The gift hath made me happy. I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake, To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
DUKE	I grant it, for thine own, whate’er it be.
VALENTINE	These banished men that I have kept withal Are men endowed with worthy qualities. Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recalled from their exile. They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
DUKE	Thou hast prevailed. I pardon them and thee. Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts. Come, let us go. We will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
VALENTINE	And as we walk along I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile. What think you of this page, my lord?
DUKE	I think the boy hath grace in him. He blushes.
VALENTINE	I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.
DUKE	What mean you by that saying?
VALENTINE	Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortunèd. Come, Proteus, ’tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours, One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
THE TAMING OF THE	SHREW The Taming of the Shrew was first published in the 1623 Folio, but a related play, shorter and simpler, with the title The Taming of a Shrew, had appeared in print in 1594. The exact relationship of these plays is disputed. A Shrew has sometimes been regarded as the source for The Shrew; some scholars have believed that both plays derive independently from an earlier play, now lost; it has even been suggested that Shakespeare wrote both plays. In our view Shakespeare’s play was written first, not necessarily on the foundation of an earlier play, and A Shrew is an anonymous imitation, written in the hope of capitalizing on the success of Shakespeare’s play. The difference between the titles is probably no more significant than the fact that The Winter’s Tale is even now often loosely referred to as A Winter’s Tale, or The Comedy of Errors as A Comedy of Errors. The plot of The Taming of the Shrew has three main strands. First comes the Induction showing how a drunken tinker, Christopher Sly, is made to believe himself a lord for whose entertainment a play is to be presented. This resembles an episode in The Arabian Nights, in which Caliph Haroun al Raschid plays a similar trick on Abu Hassan. A Latin version of this story was known in Shakespeare’s England; it may also have circulated by word of mouth. Second comes the principal plot of the play performed for Sly, in which the shrewish Katherine is wooed, won, and tamed by the fortune-hunting Petruccio. This is a popular narrative theme; Shakespeare may have known a ballad called ‘A merry jest of a shrewd and curst wife lapped in morel’s skin for her good behaviour’, printed around 1550. The third strand of the play involves Lucentio, Gremio, and Hortensio, all of them suitors for the hand of Katherine’s sister, Bianca. This is based on the first English prose comedy, George Gascoigne’s Supposes, translated from Ludovico Ariosto’s I Suppositi (1509), acted in 1566, and published in 1573. In The Taming of the Shrew as printed in the 1623 Folio Christopher Sly fades out after Act 1, Scene 1, in A Shrew he makes other appearances, and rounds off the play. These episodes may derive from a version of Shakespeare’s play different from that preserved in the Folio; we print them as Additional Passages. The adapting of Shakespeare’s play that seems to have occurred early in its career foreshadows its later history on the stage. Seven versions appeared during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, culminating in David Garrick’s Catharine and Petruchio, first performed in 1754. This version, omitting Christopher Sly and concentrating on the taming story, held the stage almost unchallenged until late in the nineteenth century. In various incarnations The Taming of the Shrew has always been popular on the stage, but its reputation as a robust comedy verging on farce has often obscured its more subtle and imaginative aspects, brutalizing Petruccio and trivializing Kate. The Induction, finely written, establishes a fundamentally serious concern with the powers of persuasion to change not merely appearance but reality, and this theme is acted out at different levels in both strands of the subsequent action.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY In the Induction
CHRISTOPHER	SLY, beggar and tinker A HOSTESS A LORD BARTHOLOMEW, his page
PLAYERS	In the play-within-the-play
BAPTISTA	Minola, a gentleman of Padua KATHERINE, his elder daughter BIANCA, his younger daughter PETRUCCIO, a gentleman of Verona, suitor of Katherine GREMIO, a rich old man of Padua, suitor of Bianca HORTENSIO, another suitor, who disguises himself as Licio, a teacher LUCENTIO, from Pisa, who disguises himself as Cambio, a teacher VINCENTIO, Lucentio’s father A PEDANT (schoolmaster), from Mantua A WIDOW A TAILOR A HABERDASHER An OFFICER SERVINGMEN, including NATHANIEL, PHILIP, JOSEPH, and PETER Other servants of Baptista and Petruccio

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine and Proteus
VALENTINE	Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus. Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Were’t not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honoured love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lov’st, love still, and thrive therein— Even as I would, when I to love begin.
PROTEUS	Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus when thou haply seest Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel. Wish me partaker in thy happiness When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger— If ever danger do environ thee— Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers; For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.
VALENTINE	And on a love-book pray for my success?
PROTEUS	Upon some book I love I’ll pray for thee.
VALENTINE	That’s on some shallow story of deep love— How young Leander crossed the Hellespont.
PROTEUS	That’s a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over-shoes in love.
VALENTINE	‘Tis true, for you are over-boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont.
PROTEUS	Over the boots? Nay, give me not the boots.
VALENTINE	No, I will not; for it boots thee not.
PROTEUS	What?
VALENTINE	To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment’s mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights. If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; If lost, why then a grievous labour won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
PROTEUS	So by your circumstance you call me fool.
VALENTINE	So by your circumstance I fear you’ll prove.
PROTEUS	‘Tis love you cavil at. I am not love.
VALENTINE	Love is your master, for he masters you, And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
PROTEUS	Yet writers say ‘As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so doting love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.’
VALENTINE	And writers say ‘As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turned to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.’ But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee That art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu. My father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipped.
PROTEUS	And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
VALENTINE	Sweet Proteus, no. Now let us take our leave. To Milan let me hear from thee by letters Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend; And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
PROTEUS	All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.
VALENTINE	As much to you at home; and so farewell. Exit
PROTEUS	He after honour hunts, I after love. He leaves his friends to dignify them more, I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at naught; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
(didascalia)	Enter Speed
SPEED	Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master?
PROTEUS	But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.
SPEED	Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already, And I have played the sheep in losing him.
PROTEUS	Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be a while away.
SPEED	You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?
PROTEUS	I do.
SPEED	Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
PROTEUS	A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
SPEED	This proves me still a sheep.
PROTEUS	True, and thy master a shepherd.
SPEED	Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
PROTEUS	It shall go hard but I’ll prove it by another.
SPEED	The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd. But I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. Therefore I am no sheep.
PROTEUS	The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep. Thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore thou art a sheep.
SPEED	Such another proof will make me cry ‘baa’.
PROTEUS	But dost thou hear: gav’st thou my letter to Julia?
SPEED	Ay, sir. I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
PROTEUS	Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
SPEED	If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
PROTEUS	Nay, in that you are astray. ‘Twere best pound you.
SPEED	Nay sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.
PROTEUS	You mistake. I mean the pound, a pinfold.
SPEED	From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over ‘Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
PROTEUS	But what said she?
SPEED	(nods, then says) Ay.
PROTEUS	Nod-ay? Why, that’s ‘noddy’.
SPEED	You mistook, sir. I say she did nod, and you ask me if she did nod, and I say ‘Ay’.
PROTEUS	And that set together is ‘noddy’.
SPEED	Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.
PROTEUS	No, no. You shall have it for bearing the letter.
SPEED	Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
PROTEUS	Why, sir, how do you bear with me?
SPEED	Marry, sir, the letter very orderly, having nothing but the word ‘noddy’ for my pains.
PROTEUS	Beshrew me but you have a quick wit.
SPEED	And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
PROTEUS	Come, come, open the matter in brief. What said she?
SPEED	Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered.
PROTEUS	(giving money) Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
SPEED	Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her.
PROTEUS	Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her?
SPEED	Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her, no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter. And being so hard to me, that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she’s as hard as steel.
PROTEUS	What said she? Nothing?
SPEED	No, not so much as ‘Take this for thy pains’. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I’ll commend you to my master.
(didascalia)	Exit
PROTEUS	Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, Being destined to a drier death on shore. I must go send some better messenger. I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post. Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Julia and Lucetta
JULIA	But say, Lucetta, now we are alone— Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
LUCETTA	Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
JULIA	Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
LUCETTA	Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind According to my shallow simple skill.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
LUCETTA	As of a knight well spoken, neat, and fine, But were I you, he never should be mine.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?
LUCETTA	Well of his wealth, but of himself, so-so.
JULIA	What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?
LUCETTA	Lord, lord, to see what folly reigns in us!
JULIA	How now? What means this passion at his name?
LUCETTA	Pardon, dear madam, ‘tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
JULIA	Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
LUCETTA	Then thus: of many good, I think him best.
JULIA	Your reason?
LUCETTA	I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so because I think him so.
JULIA	And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
LUCETTA	Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
JULIA	Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me.
LUCETTA	Yet he of all the rest I think best loves ye.
JULIA	His little speaking shows his love but small.
LUCETTA	Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.
JULIA	They do not love that do not show their love.
LUCETTA	O, they love least that let men know their love.
JULIA	I would I knew his mind.
LUCETTA	(giving Proteus’ letter) Peruse this paper, madam.
JULIA	‘To Julia’—say, from whom?
LUCETTA	That the contents will show.
JULIA	Say, say—who gave it thee?
LUCETTA	Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you, but I being in the way Did in your name receive it. Pardon the fault, I pray.
JULIA	Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker. Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper, and conspire against my youth? Now trust me, ‘tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. There. Take the paper. She gives Lucetta the letter See it be returned, Or else return no more into my sight.
LUCETTA	To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
JULIA	Will ye be gone?
LUCETTA	That you may ruminate.
(didascalia)	Exit
JULIA	And yet I would I had o‘erlooked the letter. It were a shame to call her back again And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid And would not force the letter to my view, Since maids in modesty say ‘No’ to that Which they would have the profferer construe ‘Ay’. Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod. How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence When willingly I would have had her here. How angerly I taught my brow to frown When inward joy enforced my heart to smile. My penance is to call Lucetta back And ask remission for my folly past. What ho! Lucetta!
(didascalia)	Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA	What would your ladyship?
JULIA	Is’t near dinner-time?
LUCETTA	I would it were, That you might kill your stomach on your meat And not upon your maid.
(didascalia)	She drops and picks up the letter
JULIA	What is’t that you Took up so gingerly?
LUCETTA	Nothing.
JULIA	Why didst thou stoop then?
LUCETTA	To take a paper up that I let fall.
JULIA	And is that paper nothing?
LUCETTA	Nothing concerning me.
JULIA	Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
LUCETTA	Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter.
JULIA	Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
LUCETTA	That I might sing it, madam, to a tune, Give me a note. Your ladyship can set.
JULIA	As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of ‘Light o’ love’.
LUCETTA	It is too heavy for so light a tune.
JULIA	Heavy? Belike it hath some burden, then?
LUCETTA	Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
JULIA	And why not you?
LUCETTA	I cannot reach so high.
JULIA	Let’s see your song.
(didascalia)	She tries to take the letters
JULIA	How now, minion!
LUCETTA	Keep tune there still. So you will sing it out. And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA	You do not?
LUCETTA	No, madam, ‘tis too sharp.
JULIA	You, minion, are too saucy.
LUCETTA	Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant. There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
JULIA	The mean is drowned with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA	Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA	This bauble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation. She tears the letter and drops the pieces Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie. You would be fing’ring them to anger me.
LUCETTA	(aside) She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased To be so angered with another letter.
(didascalia)	Exit
JULIA	Nay, would I were so angered with the same. O hateful hands, to tear such loving words; Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey And kill the bees that yield it with your stings. I’ll kiss each several paper for amends. She picks up some of the pieces of paper Look, here is writ ‘Kind Julia’—unkind Julia, As in revenge of thy ingratitude I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ ‘Love-wounded Proteus’. Poor wounded name, my bosom as a bed Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly healed; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice or thrice was ‘Proteus’ written down. Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away Till I have found each letter in the letter Except mine own name. That, some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock And throw it thence into the raging sea. Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ: ‘Poor forlorn Proteus’, ‘passionate Proteus’, ‘To the sweet Julia’—that I’ll tear away. And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it to his complaining names. Thus will I fold them, one upon another. Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA	Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.
JULIA	Well, let us go.
LUCETTA	What, shall these papers lie like telltales here?
JULIA	If you respect them, best to take them up.
LUCETTA	Nay, I was taken up for laying them down. Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
JULIA	I see you have a month’s mind to them.
LUCETTA	Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see. I see things too, although you judge I wink.
JULIA	Come, come, will’t please you go?
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Panthino
ANTONIO	Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
PANTHINO	‘Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
ANTONIO	Why, what of him?
PANTHINO	He wondered that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out— Some to the wars, to try their fortune there, Some to discover islands far away, Some to the studious universities. For any or for all these exercises He said that Proteus your son was meet, And did request me to importune you To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age In having known no travel in his youth.
ANTONIO	Nor need’st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have considered well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutored in the world. Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time. Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
PANTHINO	I think your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the Emperor in his royal court.
ANTONIO	I know it well.
PANTHINO	‘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.
ANTONIO	I like thy counsel. Well hast thou advised, And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known. Even with the speediest expedition I will dispatch him to the Emperor’s court.
PANTHINO	Tomorrow, may it please you, Don Alfonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the Emperor And to commend their service to his will.
ANTONIO	Good company. With them shall Proteus go.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus with a letter. He does not see Antonio and Panthino
ANTONIO	And in good time. Now will we break with him.
PROTEUS	Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart. Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn. O that our fathers would applaud our loves To seal our happiness with their consents. O heavenly Julia!
ANTONIO	How now, what letter are you reading there?
PROTEUS	May’t please your lordship, ‘tis a word or two Of commendations sent from Valentine, Delivered by a friend that came from him.
ANTONIO	Lend me the letter. Let me see what news.
PROTEUS	There is no news, my lord, but that he writes How happily he lives, how well beloved And daily gracèd by the Emperor, Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
ANTONIO	And how stand you affected to his wish?
PROTEUS	As one relying on your lordship’s will, And not depending on his friendly wish.
ANTONIO	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 resolved that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the Emperor’s court. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. Tomorrow be in readiness to go. Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
PROTEUS	My lord, I cannot be so soon provided. Please you deliberate a day or two.
ANTONIO	Look what thou want’st shall be sent after thee. No more of stay. Tomorrow thou must go. Come on, Panthino. You shall be employed To hasten on his expedition.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Antonio and Panthino
PROTEUS	Thus have I shunned the fire for fear of burning And drenched me in the sea where I am drowned. I feared to show my father Julia’s letter Lest he should take exceptions to my love, And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love. O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, your father calls for you. He is in haste, therefore I pray you go.
PROTEUS	Why, this it is. My heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers ‘No’.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine and Speed
SPEED	(offering Valentine a glove) Sir, your glove.
VALENTINE	Not mine. My gloves are on.
SPEED	Why then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
VALENTINE	Ha, let me see. Ay, give it me, it’s mine— Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine. Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
SPEED	Madam Silvia, Madam Silvia!
VALENTINE	How now, sirrah?
SPEED	She is not within hearing, sir.
VALENTINE	Why, sir, who bade you call her?
SPEED	Your worship, sir, or else I mistook.
VALENTINE	Well, you’ll still be too forward.
SPEED	And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
VALENTINE	Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?
SPEED	She that your worship loves?
VALENTINE	Why, how know you that I am in love?
SPEED	Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC; 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 laughed, 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.
VALENTINE	Are all these things perceived in me?
SPEED	They are all perceived without ye.
VALENTINE	Without me? They cannot.
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 an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady.
VALENTINE	But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
SPEED	She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?
VALENTINE	Hast thou observed that? Even she I mean.
SPEED	Why sir, I know her not.
VALENTINE	Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know’st her not?
SPEED	Is she not hard-favoured, sir?
VALENTINE	Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
SPEED	Sir, I know that well enough.
VALENTINE	What dost thou know?
SPEED	That she is not so fair as of you well favoured.
VALENTINE	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.
VALENTINE	How painted? And how out of count?
SPEED	Marry, sir, so 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. 85
SPEED	Are they not lamely writ?
VALENTINE	No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace, here she comes.
(didascalia)	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 e’en! 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 enjoined 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. He gives her 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. She offers him the letter 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. She presses the letter upon him Nay, take them.
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.
(didascalia)	Exit
SPEED	(aside) 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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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. She gives him a ring Keep this remembrance for thy Julia’s sake.
PROTEUS	Why then, we’ll make exchange. Here, take you this. He gives her a ring
JULIA	And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
(didascalia)	They 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. (Julia weeps) Nay, not thy tide of tears, That tide will stay me longer than I should. Julia, farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit Julia
PROTEUS	What, gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do. It cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Sir Proteus, you are stayed for.
PROTEUS	Go, I come, I come.— Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lance with his dog Crab
LANCE	(to the audience) Nay, ‘twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Lances 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, 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. 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 moved 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Panthino
PANTHINO	Lance, 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.
LANCE	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?
LANCE	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— Lance puts his hand over Panthino’s mouth Why dost thou stop my mouth?
LANCE	For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PANTHINO	Where should I lose my tongue?
LANCE	In thy tale.
PANTHINO	In thy tail!
LANCE	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.
LANCE	Sir, call me what thou darest.
PANTHINO	Wilt thou go?
LANCE	Well, I will go. Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed
SILVIA	Servant!
VALENTINE	Mistress?
SPEED	(to Valentine) Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
VALENTINE	Ay, boy, it’s for love.
SPEED	Not of you. 5
VALENTINE	Of my mistress, then.
SPEED	‘Twere good you knocked him.
SILVIA	(to Valentine) 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.
THORIO	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 you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.
THURIO	Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
VALENTINE	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.
SILVIA	No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke
DUKE	Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father is in good health, What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news?
VALENTINE	My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence.
DUKE	Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman?
VALENTINE	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?
VALENTINE	Ay, my good lord, a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.
DUKE	You know him well?
VALENTINE	I knew him as myself, for from our infancy We have conversed, and spent our hours together. And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus—for that’s his name— Made use and fair advantage of his days: His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellowed, but his judgement ripe. And in a word—for far behind his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow— He is complete, in feature and in mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
DUKE	Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good He is as worthy for an empress’ love As meet to be an emperor’s counsellor. Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me With commendation from great potentates, And here he means to spend his time awhile. I think ’tis no unwelcome news to you.
VALENTINE	Should I have wished a thing it had been he.
DUKE	Welcome him then according to his worth. Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; For Valentine, I need not cite him to it. I will send him hither to you presently.
(didascalia)	Exit
VALENTINE	This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes locked in her crystal looks.
SILVIA	Belike that now she hath enfranchised them Upon some other pawn for fealty.
VALENTINE	Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
SILVIA	Nay, then he should be blind, and being blind How could he see his way to seek out you?
VALENTINE	Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
THURIO	They say that love hath not an eye at all.
VALENTINE	To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself. Upon a homely object love can wink.
SILVIA	Have done, have done. Here comes the gentleman.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
VALENTINE	Welcome, dear Proteus. Mistress, I beseech you Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SILVIA	His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wished to hear from.
VALENTINE	Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
SILVIA	Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
PROTEUS	Not so, sweet lady, but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
VALENTINE	Leave off discourse of disability. Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
PROTEUS	My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
SILVIA	And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
PROTEUS	I’ll die on him that says so but yourself.
SILVIA	That you are welcome?
PROTEUS	That you are worthless.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
(didascalia)	SERVANT
PROTEUS	Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
(didascalia)	I wait upon his pleasure. Exit the Servant
SILVIA	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.
PROTEUS	We’ll both attend upon your ladyship.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Silvia and Thurio
VALENTINE	Now tell me, how do all from whence you came?
PROTEUS	Your friends are well, and have them much commended.
VALENTINE	And how do yours?
PROTEUS	I left them all in health.
VALENTINE	How does your lady, and how thrives your love?
PROTEUS	My tales of love were wont to weary you. I know you joy not in a love-discourse.
VALENTINE	Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now. I have done penance for contemning love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punished 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 chased sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart’s sorrow. O gentle Proteus, love’s a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me as I confess There is no woe to his correction, Nor to his service no such joy on earth. Now, no discourse except it be of love. Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep Upon the very naked name of love.
PROTEUS	Enough. I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so?
VALENTINE	Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
PROTEUS	No, but she is an earthly paragon.
VALENTINE	Call her divine.
PROTEUS	I will not flatter her.
VALENTINE	O flatter me; for love delights in praises.
PROTEUS	When I was sick you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you.
VALENTINE	Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
PROTEUS	Except my mistress.
VALENTINE	Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love.
PROTEUS	Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
VALENTINE	And I will help thee to prefer her, too. She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear my lady’s train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.
PROTEUS	Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this?
VALENTINE	Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing. She is alone.
PROTEUS	Then let her alone.
VALENTINE	Not for the world. Why man, she is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me that I do not dream on thee Because thou seest me dote upon my love. My foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along, and I must after; For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
PROTEUS	But she loves you?
VALENTINE	Ay, and we are betrothed. Nay more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determined of: how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and ‘greed on for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
PROTEUS	Go on before. I shall enquire you forth. I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use, And then I’ll presently attend you.
VALENTINE	Will you make haste?
PROTEUS	I will. Exit Valentine Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine eye, or Valentine’s praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus? She is fair, and so is Julia that I love— That I did love, for now my love is thawed, Which like a waxen image ‘gainst a fire Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was wont. O, but I love his lady too-too much, And that’s the reason I love him so little. How shall I dote on her with more advice, That thus without advice begin to love her? ‘Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled my reason’s light. But when I look on her perfections There is no reason but I shall be blind. If I can check my erring love I will, If not, to compass her I’ll use my skill. Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Speed, and Lance with his dog Crab
SPEED	Lance, by mine honesty, welcome to Milan.
LANCE	Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never undone till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess say ‘Welcome’.
SPEED	Come on, you madcap. I’ll to the alehouse with you presently, where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam Julia?
LANCE	Marry, after they closed in earnest they parted very fairly in jest.
SPEED	But shall she marry him?
LANCE	No.
SPEED	How then, shall he marry her?
LANCE	No, neither.
SPEED	What, are they broken?
LANCE	No, they are both as whole as a fish.
SPEED	Why then, how stands the matter with them?
LANCE	Marry, thus: when it stands well with him it stands well with her.
SPEED	What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
LANCE	What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me.
SPEED	What thou sayst?
LANCE	Ay, and what I do too. Look thee, I’ll but lean, and my staff under-stands me.
SPEED	It stands under thee indeed.
LANCE	Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. SPEED But tell me true, will’t be a match?
LANCE	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.
LANCE	Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.
SPEED	‘Tis well that I get it so. But Lance, how sayst thou that my master is become a notable lover?
LANCE	I never knew him otherwise.
SPEED	Than how?
LANCE	A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
SPEED	Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak’st me.
LANCE	Why, fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy master.
SPEED	I tell thee my master is become a hot lover.
LANCE	Why, I tell thee I care not, though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse. If not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
SPEED	Why?
LANCE	Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?
SPEED	At thy service.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
PROTEUS	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 e‘en that power which gave me first my oath Provokes me to this threefold perjury. Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear. O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinned Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 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 t’exchange the bad for better. Fie, fie, unreverent tongue, to call her bad Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. I cannot leave to love, and yet I do. 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, Rememb’ring 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 used 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 enraged, will banish Valentine; For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter. But Valentine being gone, I’ll quickly cross By some sly trick blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift. Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Julia and Lucetta
JULIA	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 charactered and engraved, To lesson me, and tell me some good mean How with my honour I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.
LUCETTA	Alas, the way is wearisome and long.
JULIA	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, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection as Sir Proteus.
LUCETTA	Better forbear till Proteus make return.
JULIA	O, know’st thou not his looks are my soul’s food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
LUCETTA	I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, But qualify the fire’s extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
JULIA	The more thou damm‘st it up, the more it burns. The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage. But when his fair course is not hindered He makes sweet music with th’enamelled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course. I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step Till the last step have brought me to my love. And there I’ll rest as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
LUCETTA	But in what habit will you go along?
JULIA	Not like a woman, for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men. Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page.
LUCETTA	Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
JULIA	No, girl, I’ll knit it up in silken strings With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be.
LUCETTA	What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
JULIA	That fits as well as ‘Tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale?’ Why, e’en what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta.
LUCETTA	You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
JULIA	Out, out, Lucetta. That will be ill-favoured.
LUCETTA	A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.
JULIA	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 scandalized.
LUCETTA	If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.
JULIA	Nay, that I will not.
LUCETTA	Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who’s displeased when you are gone. I fear me he will scarce be pleased withal.
JULIA	That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
LUCETTA	All these are servants to deceitful men.
JULIA	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, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
LUCETTA	Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him.
JULIA	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, And presently go with me to my chamber 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus
DUKE	Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile. We have some secrets to confer about. Exit Thurio Now tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me?
PROTEUS	My gracious lord, that which I would discover 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 determined 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.
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 judged me fast asleep, And oftentimes have purposed 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 shunned— I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be conveyed away.
PROTEUS	Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean 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 That I had any light from thee of this.
PROTEUS	Adieu, my lord. Sir Valentine is coming. Exit Enter Valentine
DUKE	Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VALENTINE	Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.
DUKE	Be they of much import?
VALENTINE	The tenor of them doth but signify My health and happy being at your court.
DUKE	Nay then, no matter. Stay with me awhile. I am to break with thee of some affairs That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. ‘Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.
VALENTINE	I know it well, my lord; and sure the match Were rich and honourable. Besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE	No, trust me. She is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, Neither regarding that she is my child Nor fearing me as if I were her father. And may I say to thee, this pride of hers Upon advice hath drawn my love from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherished by her child-like duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in. Then let her beauty be her wedding dower, For me and my possessions she esteems not.
VALENTINE	What would your grace have me to do in this?
DUKE	There is a lady of Verona here Whom I affect, but she is nice, and coy, And naught esteems my aged eloquence. Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor— For long agone I have forgot to court, Besides, the fashion of the time is changed— How and which way I may bestow myself To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE	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.
DUKE	But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VALENTINE	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 she do chide, ‘tis not to have you gone, Forwhy 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, commend, extol their graces; Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces. That man that hath a tongue I say is no man If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
DUKE	But she I mean is promised 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.
VALENTINE	Why then I would resort to her by night.
DUKE	Ay, but the doors be locked and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night.
VALENTINE	What lets but one may enter at her window?
DUKE	Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.
VALENTINE	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.
DUKE	Now as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
VALENTINE	When would you use it? Pray sir, tell me that.
DUKE	This very night; for love is like a child That longs for everything that he can come by.
VALENTINE	By seven o’clock I’ll get you such a ladder.
DUKE	But hark thee: I will go to her alone. How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
VALENTINE	It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length.
DUKE	A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
VALENTINE	Ay, my good lord.
DUKE	Then let me see thy cloak, I’ll get me one of such another length.
VALENTINE	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. He lifts Valentine’s cloak and finds a letter and a rope-ladder 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. (Reads) ‘My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, 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 lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blessed them, Because myself do want my servants’ fortune. I curse myself for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should be.’ What’s here? ‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee’? ‘Tis so, and here’s the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaeton, 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? Go, base intruder, over-weening slave, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, And think my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence. Thank me for this more than for all the favours Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee. But if 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, But as thou lov’st thy life, make speed from hence.
(didascalia)	Exit
VALENTINE	And why not death, rather than living torment? To die is to be banished from myself, And Silvia is my self. Banished 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 There is no music in the nightingale. 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 Fostered, illumined, cherished, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus and Lance
PROTEUS	Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LANCE	So-ho, so-ho!
PROTEUS	What seest thou?
LANCE	Him we go to find. There’s not a hair on’s head but ‘tis a Valentine.
PROTEUS	Valentine?
VALENTINE	No.
PROTEUS	Who then—his spirit?
VALENTINE	Neither.
PROTEUS	What then?
VALENTINE	Nothing.
LANCE	Can nothing speak? He threatens Valentine Master, shall I strike?
PROTEUS	Who wouldst thou strike?
LANCE	Nothing.
PROTEUS	Villain, forbear.
LANCE	Why, sir, I’ll strike nothing. I pray you—
PROTEUS	Sirrah, I say forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.
VALENTINE	My ears are stopped, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possessed them.
PROTEUS	Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
VALENTINE	Is Silvia dead?
PROTEUS	No, Valentine.
VALENTINE	No Valentine indeed, for sacred Silvia. Hath she forsworn me?
PROTEUS	No, Valentine.
VALENTINE	No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. What is your news?
LANCE	Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.
PROTEUS	That thou art banished. O that’s the news: From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
VALENTINE	O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banishèd?
PROTEUS	Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom, Which unreversed stands in effectual force, A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears. Those at her father’s churlish feet she tendered, With them, upon her knees, her humble self, Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them As if but now they waxed pale, for woe. But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire, But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die. Besides, her intercession chafed him so When she for thy repeal was suppliant That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there.
VALENTINE	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.
PROTEUS	Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament‘st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay thou canst not see thy love. Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lover’s staff. Walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts. Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, shall be delivered 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. As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me.
VALENTINE	I pray thee, Lance, an if thou seest my boy Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North Gate.
PROTEUS	Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
VALENTINE	O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Proteus and Valentine
LANCE	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 yet ’tis a woman, but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet ‘tis a milkmaid; yet ‘tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet ’tis a maid, for she is her master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. He takes out a paper Here is the catalogue of her conditions. ‘Imprimis, she can fetch and carry’—why, a horse can do no more. Nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry, therefore is she better than a jade. ‘Item, she can milk.’ Look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.
(didascalia)	Enter Speed
SPEED	How now, Signor Lance, what news with your mastership?
LANCE	With my master’s ship? Why, it is at sea.
SPEED	Well, your old vice still, mistake the word. What news then in your paper?
LANCE	The blackest news that ever thou heard’st.
SPEED	Why, man, how ‘black’?
LANCE	Why, as black as ink.
SPEED	Let me read them.
LANCE	Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou canst not read.
SPEED	Thou liest. I can.
LANCE	I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?
SPEED	Marry, the son of my grandfather.
LANCE	O illiterate loiterer, it was the son of thy grand-mother. This proves that thou canst not read.
SPEED	Come, fool, come. Try me in thy paper.
LANCE	(giving Speed the paper) There: and Saint Nicholas be thy speed.
SPEED	‘Imprimis, she can milk.’
LANCE	Ay, that she can.
SPEED	‘Item, she brews good ale.’
LANCE	And thereof comes the proverb ‘Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale’.
SPEED	‘Item, she can sew.’
LANCE	That’s as much as to say ‘Can she so?’
SPEED	‘Item, she can knit.’
LANCE	What need a man care for a stock with a wench when she can knit him a stock?
SPEED	‘Item, she can wash and scour.’
LANCE	A special virtue, for then she need not be washed and scoured.
SPEED	‘Item, she can spin.’
LANCE	Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath many nameless virtues.’
LANCE	That’s as much as to say ‘bastard virtues’, that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.
SPEED	Here follows her vices.
LANCE	Close at the heels of her virtues.
SPEED	‘Item, she is not to be broken with fasting, in respect of her breath.’
LANCE	Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath a sweet mouth.’
LANCE	That makes amends for her sour breath.
SPEED	‘Item, she doth talk in her sleep.’
LANCE	It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.
SPEED	‘Item, she is slow in words.’
LANCE	O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a woman’s only virtue. I pray thee out with’t, and place it for her chief virtue.
SPEED	‘Item, she is proud.’
LANCE	Out with that, too. It was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath no teeth.’
LANCE	I care not for that, neither, because I love crusts.
SPEED	‘Item, she is curst.’
LANCE	Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
SPEED	‘Item, she will often praise her liquor.’
LANCE	If her liquor be good, she shall. If she will not, I will; for good things should be praised.
SPEED	‘Item, she is too liberal.’
LANCE	Of her tongue she cannot, for that’s writ down she is slow of. Of her purse she shall not, for that I’ll keep shut. Now of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.
SPEED	‘Item, she hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.’
LANCE	Stop there. I’ll have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. 347
SPEED	‘Item, she hath more hair than wit’—
LANCE	‘More hair than wit.’ It may be. I’ll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt. The hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What’s next?
SPEED	‘And more faults than hairs’—
LANCE	That’s monstrous. O that that were out!
SPEED	‘And more wealth than faults.’
LANCE	Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I’ll have her, and if it be a match—as nothing is impossible—
SPEED	What then?
LANCE	Why then will I tell thee that thy master stays for thee at the North Gate.
SPEED	For me?
LANCE	For thee? Ay, who art thou? He hath stayed for a better man than thee.
SPEED	And must I go to him?
LANCE	Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn.
SPEED	Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters! Exit
LANCE	Now will he be swinged for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I’ll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction.
(didascalia)	Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke and Thurio
DUKE	Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you Now Valentine is banished from her sight.
THURIO	Since his exile she hath despised me most, Forsworn my company, and railed at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her.
DUKE	This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus
DUKE	How now, Sir Proteus, is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone?
PROTEUS	Gone, my good lord.
DUKE	My daughter takes his going grievously?
PROTEUS	A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
DUKE	So I believe, but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee— For thou hast shown some sign of good desert— Makes me the better to confer with thee.
PROTEUS	Longer than I prove loyal to your grace Let me not live to look upon your grace.
DUKE	Thou know’st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter?
PROTEUS	I do, my lord.
DUKE	And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will?
PROTEUS	She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
DUKE	Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio?
PROTEUS	The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, Three things that women highly hold in hate.
DUKE	Ay, but she’ll think that it is spoke in hate.
PROTEUS	Ay, if his enemy deliver it. Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.
DUKE	Then you must undertake to slander him.
PROTEUS	And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do. ’Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially against his very friend.
DUKE	Where your good word cannot advantage him Your slander never can endamage him. Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend.
PROTEUS	You have prevailed, my lord. If I can do it By aught that I can speak in his dispraise She shall not long continue love to him. But say this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.
THURIO	Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Lest it should ravel and be good to none You must provide to bottom it on me; Which must be done by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.
DUKE	And Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind Because we know, on Valentine’s report, You are already love’s firm votary, And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large. For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And for your friend’s sake will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, To hate young Valentine and love my friend.
PROTEUS	As much as I can do, I will effect. But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough. You must lay lime to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.
DUKE	Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
PROTEUS	Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity; For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sinews, Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire-lamenting elegies, Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window With some sweet consort. To their instruments Tune a deploring dump. The night’s dead silence Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
DUKE	This discipline shows thou hast been in love.
THURIO	And thy advice this night I’ll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen well skilled in music. I have a sonnet that will serve the turn To give the onset to thy good advice.
DUKE	About it, gentlemen.
PROTEUS	We’ll wait upon your grace till after supper, And afterward determine our proceedings.
DUKE	Even now about it. I will pardon you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thurio and Proteus at one door, and the Duke at another

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws
FIRST OUTLAW	Fellows, stand fast. I see a passenger.
SECOND OUTLAW	If there be ten, shrink not, but down with ‘em.
(didascalia)	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	(to Valentine) Sir, we are undone. These are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much.
VALENTINE	(to the Outlaws) 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 is 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. 20
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 had been often 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 confer
SPEED	(to Valentine) 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 aweful 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 suchlike 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

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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. But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window, And give some evening music to her ear.
(didascalia)	Enter Thurio with Musicians
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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Host, and Julia, dressed as a page-boy.
THURIO	They talk apart
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.
HOST	Hark, hark.
JULIA	Is he among these?
HOST	Ay. But peace, let’s hear ’em.
(didascalia)	Song
HOST	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 Lance his man told me, he loved her out of all nick.
JULIA	Where is Lance?
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Thurio and the Musicians
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia, above
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, Think’st 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. Exit
PROTEUS	As wretches have o’ernight, That wait for execution in the morn.
(didascalia)	Exit
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir 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!
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia [above]
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 vowed’st 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lance and his dog Crab
LANCE	(to the audience) 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 gentleman-like dogs under the Duke’s table. He had not been there—bless the mark—a pissing-while but all the chamber smelled 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. (To Crab) Thou think’st 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?
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus, with Julia dressed as a page-boy
PROTEUS	(to Julia) 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.—How now, you whoreson peasant, Where have you been these two days loitering?
LANCE	Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
PROTEUS	And what says she to my little jewel?
LANCE	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?
LANCE	No indeed did she not. Here have I brought him back again.
PROTEUS	What, didst thou offer her this from me?
LANCE	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. Stay’st thou to vex me here?
(didascalia)	Exit Lance with Crab
PROTEUS	A slave, that still on 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 yon 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. (Pointing) 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.
(didascalia)	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-confirmèd 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia
JULIA	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. [An attendant brings a picture] 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. She gives Silvia a letter Pardon me, madam, I have unadvised Delivered you a paper that I should not. She takes back the letter and gives Silvia another letter 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. 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. She tears the letter
JULIA	Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. She offers Silvia a 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 sayst 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 beholden 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 lov’st her. Farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
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. She picks up the portrait 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

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Eglamour
EGLAMOUR	The sun begins to gild the western sky, And now it is about the very hour That Silvia at Friar Patrick’s cell should meet me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition.
(didascalia)	Enter Silvia
EGLAMOUR	See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening!
SILVIA	Amen, amen. Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey wall. I fear I am attended by some spies.
EGLAMOUR	Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off. If we recover that, we are sure enough.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia dressed as a pageboy
THURIO	Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
PROTEUS	O sir, I find her milder than she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
THURIO	What? That my leg is too long?
PROTEUS	No, that it is too little.
THURIO	I’ll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.
JULIA	(aside) But love will not be spurred to what it loathes.
THURIO	What says she to my face?
PROTEUS	She says it is a fair one.
THURIO	Nay, then, the wanton lies. My face is black.
PROTEUS	But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, ‘Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes’.
JULIA	(aside) ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes, For I had rather wink than look on them.
THURIO	How likes she my discourse?
PROTEUS	Ill, when you talk of war.
THURIO	But well when I discourse of love and peace.
JULIA	(aside) But better indeed when you hold your peace.
THURIO	What says she to my valour?
PROTEUS	O sir, she makes no doubt of that.
JULIA	(aside) She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
THURIO	What says she to my birth?
PROTEUS	That you are well derived.
JULIA	(aside) True: from a gentleman to a fool.
THURIO	Considers she my possessions?
PROTEUS	O ay, and pities them.
THURIO	Wherefore?
JULIA	(aside) That such an ass should owe them.
PROTEUS	That they are out by lease.
JULIA	Here comes the Duke.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke
DUKE	How now, Sir Proteus. How now, Thurio. Which of you saw Eglamour of late?
THURIO	Not I.
PROTEUS	Nor I.
DUKE	Saw you my daughter?
PROTEUS	Neither.
DUKE	Why then, she’s fled unto that peasant Valentine, And Eglamour is in her company. ’Tis true, for Friar Laurence met them both As he in penance wandered through the forest. Him he knew well, and guessed that it was she, But being masked, he was not sure of it. Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick’s cell this even, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; Therefore I pray you stand not to discourse, But mount you presently, and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain foot That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
(didascalia)	Exit
THURIO	Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. I’ll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. [exit]
PROTEUS	And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [Exit]
JULIA	And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit]

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws with Silvia captive
FIRST OUTLAW	Come, come, be patient. We must bring you to our captain.
SILVIA	A thousand more mischances than this one Have learned me how to brook this patiently.
SECOND OUTLAW	Come, bring her away.
FIRST OUTLAW	Where is the gentleman that was with her?
THIRD OUTLAW	Being nimble-footed he hath outrun us; But Moses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood. There is our captain. We’ll follow him that’s fled. The thicket is beset, he cannot scape.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Second and Third Outlaws
FIRST OUTLAW	(to Silvia) Come, I must bring you to our captain’s cave. Fear not. He bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly.
SILVIA	(aside) O Valentine! This I endure for thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine
VALENTINE	How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale’s complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was. Repair me with thy presence, Silvia. Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain. What hallooing and what stir is this today? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well, yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine. Who’s this comes here? He stands aside.
(didascalia)	Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia dressed as a pageboy
PROTEUS	Madam, this service I have done for you— Though you respect not aught your servant doth— To hazard life, and rescue you from him That would have forced your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look. A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this I am sure you cannot give.
VALENTINE	(aside) How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love lend me patience to forbear awhile.
SILVIA	O miserable, unhappy that I am!
PROTEUS	Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came. But by my coming I have made you happy.
SILVIA	By thy approach thou mak’st me most unhappy.
JULIA	(aside) And me, when he approacheth to your presence.
SILVIA	Had I been seized by a hungry lion I would have been a breakfast to the beast Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O heaven be judge how I love Valentine, Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul. And full as much, for more there cannot be, I do detest false perjured Proteus. Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.
PROTEUS	What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look! O, ’tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they’re beloved.
SILVIA	When Proteus cannot love where he’s beloved. Read over Julia’s heart, thy first, best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths, and all those oaths Descended into perjury to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two, And that’s far worse than none. Better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one, Thou counterfeit to thy true friend.
PROTEUS	In love Who respects friend?
SILVIA	All men but Proteus.
PROTEUS	Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arm’s end, And love you ’gainst the nature of love: force ye.
SILVIA	O heaven!
PROTEUS	(assailing her) I’ll force thee yield to my desire.
VALENTINE	(coming forward) Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion.
PROTEUS	Valentine!
VALENTINE	Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love, For such is a friend now. Treacherous man, Thou hast beguiled my hopes. Naught but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive. Thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted, when one’s right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest. O time most accursed, ’Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
PROTEUS	My shame and guilt confounds me. Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender’t here. I do as truly suffer As e’er I did commit.
VALENTINE	Then I am paid, And once again I do receive thee honest. Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth. For these are pleased; By penitence th’ Eternal’s wrath’s appeased. And that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
JULIA	O me unhappy! She faints
PROTEUS	Look to the boy.
VALENTINE	Why, boy! Why wag, how now? What’s the matter? Look up. Speak.
JULIA	O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which out of my neglect was never done.
PROTEUS	Where is that ring, boy?
JULIA	Here ’tis. This is it. She gives Proteus the ring
PROTEUS	How, let me see! Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.
JULIA	O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook. She offers Proteus another ring This is the ring you sent to Silvia.
PROTEUS	But how cam’st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia.
JULIA	And Julia herself did give it me, And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
PROTEUS	How? Julia?
JULIA	Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths And entertained ’em deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root? O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment, if shame live In a disguise of love. It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds.
PROTEUS	Than men their minds! ‘Tis true. O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect. That one error Fills him with faults, makes him run through all th’ sins; Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. What is in Silvia’s face but I may spy More fresh in Julia’s, with a constant eye?
VALENTINE	Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be blessed to make this happy close. ’Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. Julia and Proteus join hands
PROTEUS	Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.
JULIA	And I mine.
(didascalia)	Enter the Outlaws with the Duke and Thurio as captives
OUTLAWS	A prize, a prize, a prize!
VALENTINE	Forbear, forbear, I say. It is my lord the Duke. The Outlaws release the Duke and Thurio (To the Duke) Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced, Banished Valentine.
DUKE	Sir Valentine!
THURIO	Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine.
VALENTINE	Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death. Come not within the measure of my wrath. Do not name Silvia thine. If once again, Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands. Take but possession of her with a touch— I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
THURIO	Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not. I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
DUKE	The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done, And leave her on such slight conditions. Now by the honour of my ancestry I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress’ love. Know then I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy unrivalled merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well derived. Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.
VALENTINE	I thank your grace. The gift hath made me happy. I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake, To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
DUKE	I grant it, for thine own, whate’er it be.
VALENTINE	These banished men that I have kept withal Are men endowed with worthy qualities. Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recalled from their exile. They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
DUKE	Thou hast prevailed. I pardon them and thee. Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts. Come, let us go. We will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
VALENTINE	And as we walk along I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile. What think you of this page, my lord?
DUKE	I think the boy hath grace in him. He blushes.
VALENTINE	I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.
DUKE	What mean you by that saying?
VALENTINE	Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortunèd. Come, Proteus, ’tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours, One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
THE TAMING OF THE	SHREW The Taming of the Shrew was first published in the 1623 Folio, but a related play, shorter and simpler, with the title The Taming of a Shrew, had appeared in print in 1594. The exact relationship of these plays is disputed. A Shrew has sometimes been regarded as the source for The Shrew; some scholars have believed that both plays derive independently from an earlier play, now lost; it has even been suggested that Shakespeare wrote both plays. In our view Shakespeare’s play was written first, not necessarily on the foundation of an earlier play, and A Shrew is an anonymous imitation, written in the hope of capitalizing on the success of Shakespeare’s play. The difference between the titles is probably no more significant than the fact that The Winter’s Tale is even now often loosely referred to as A Winter’s Tale, or The Comedy of Errors as A Comedy of Errors. The plot of The Taming of the Shrew has three main strands. First comes the Induction showing how a drunken tinker, Christopher Sly, is made to believe himself a lord for whose entertainment a play is to be presented. This resembles an episode in The Arabian Nights, in which Caliph Haroun al Raschid plays a similar trick on Abu Hassan. A Latin version of this story was known in Shakespeare’s England; it may also have circulated by word of mouth. Second comes the principal plot of the play performed for Sly, in which the shrewish Katherine is wooed, won, and tamed by the fortune-hunting Petruccio. This is a popular narrative theme; Shakespeare may have known a ballad called ‘A merry jest of a shrewd and curst wife lapped in morel’s skin for her good behaviour’, printed around 1550. The third strand of the play involves Lucentio, Gremio, and Hortensio, all of them suitors for the hand of Katherine’s sister, Bianca. This is based on the first English prose comedy, George Gascoigne’s Supposes, translated from Ludovico Ariosto’s I Suppositi (1509), acted in 1566, and published in 1573. In The Taming of the Shrew as printed in the 1623 Folio Christopher Sly fades out after Act 1, Scene 1, in A Shrew he makes other appearances, and rounds off the play. These episodes may derive from a version of Shakespeare’s play different from that preserved in the Folio; we print them as Additional Passages. The adapting of Shakespeare’s play that seems to have occurred early in its career foreshadows its later history on the stage. Seven versions appeared during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, culminating in David Garrick’s Catharine and Petruchio, first performed in 1754. This version, omitting Christopher Sly and concentrating on the taming story, held the stage almost unchallenged until late in the nineteenth century. In various incarnations The Taming of the Shrew has always been popular on the stage, but its reputation as a robust comedy verging on farce has often obscured its more subtle and imaginative aspects, brutalizing Petruccio and trivializing Kate. The Induction, finely written, establishes a fundamentally serious concern with the powers of persuasion to change not merely appearance but reality, and this theme is acted out at different levels in both strands of the subsequent action.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY In the Induction
CHRISTOPHER	SLY, beggar and tinker A HOSTESS A LORD BARTHOLOMEW, his page
PLAYERS	In the play-within-the-play
BAPTISTA	Minola, a gentleman of Padua KATHERINE, his elder daughter BIANCA, his younger daughter PETRUCCIO, a gentleman of Verona, suitor of Katherine GREMIO, a rich old man of Padua, suitor of Bianca HORTENSIO, another suitor, who disguises himself as Licio, a teacher LUCENTIO, from Pisa, who disguises himself as Cambio, a teacher VINCENTIO, Lucentio’s father A PEDANT (schoolmaster), from Mantua A WIDOW A TAILOR A HABERDASHER An OFFICER SERVINGMEN, including NATHANIEL, PHILIP, JOSEPH, and PETER Other servants of Baptista and Petruccio