The Two Gentlemen of Verona

 
will;
    for good things should be praised.
  SPEED. 'Item: She is too liberal.'
  LAUNCE. 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.'
  LAUNCE. Stop there; I'll have her; she was mine, and not mine,
    twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once
more.
  SPEED. 'Item: She hath more hair than wit'-
  LAUNCE. 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'-
  LAUNCE. That's monstrous. O that that were out!
  SPEED. 'And more wealth than faults.'
  LAUNCE. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll
have
    her; an if it be a match, as nothing is impossible-
  SPEED. What then?
  LAUNCE. Why, then will I tell thee- that thy master stays for
thee
    at the Northgate.
  SPEED. For me?
  LAUNCE. For thee! ay, who art thou? He hath stay'd for a better
man
    than thee.
  SPEED. And must I go to him?
  LAUNCE. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long that
    going will scarce serve the turn.
  SPEED. Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters!
 Exit
  LAUNCE. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An
unmannerly
    slave that will thrust himself into secrets! I'll after, to
    rejoice in the boy's correction. Exit
 

SCENE II. Milan. The DUKE'S palace

Enter DUKE and THURIO

 
  DUKE. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you
    Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
  THURIO. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
    Forsworn my company and rail'd 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.
 

Enter PROTEUS

 
    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 prevail'd, 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 skill'd 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. Exeunt
 

ACT IV. SCENE I. The frontiers of Mantua. A forest

Enter certain OUTLAWS

 
  FIRST OUTLAW. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.
  SECOND OUTLAW. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.
 

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED

 
  THIRD OUTLAW. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye;
    If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
  SPEED. Sir, we are undone; these are the villains
    That all the travellers do fear so much.
  VALENTINE. My friends-
  FIRST OUTLAW. That's not so, sir; we are your enemies.
  SECOND OUTLAW. Peace! we'll hear him.
  THIRD OUTLAW. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper man.
  VALENTINE. Then know that I have little wealth to lose;
    A man I am cross'd with adversity;
    My riches are these poor habiliments,
    Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
    You take the sum and substance that I have.
  SECOND OUTLAW. Whither travel you?
  VALENTINE. To Verona.
  FIRST OUTLAW. Whence came you?
  VALENTINE. From Milan.
  THIRD OUTLAW. Have you long sojourn'd there?
  VALENTINE. Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd,
    If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
  FIRST OUTLAW. What, were you banish'd thence?
  VALENTINE. I was.
  SECOND OUTLAW. For what offence?
  VALENTINE. For that which now torments me to rehearse:
    I kill'd 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 banish'd for so small a fault?
  VALENTINE. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
  SECOND OUTLAW. Have you the tongues?
  VALENTINE. My youthful travel therein made me happy,
    Or else I often had been miserable.
  THIRD OUTLAW. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,
    This fellow were a king for our wild faction!
  FIRST OUTLAW. We'll have him. Sirs, a word.
  SPEED. Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of
thievery.
  VALENTINE. Peace, villain!
  SECOND OUTLAW. Tell us this: have you anything to take to?
  VALENTINE. Nothing but my fortune.
  THIRD OUTLAW. Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen,
    Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
    Thrust from the company of awful men;
    Myself was from Verona banished
    For practising to steal away a lady,
    An heir, and near allied unto the Duke.
  SECOND OUTLAW. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman
    Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.
  FIRST OUTLAW. And I for such-like petty crimes as these.
    But to the purpose- for we cite our faults
    That they may hold excus'd 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 banish'd 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 say'st thou? Wilt thou be of our consort?
    Say 'ay' and be the captain of us all.
    We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd 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
offer'd.
  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
 

SCENE II. Milan. Outside the DUKE'S palace, under SILVIA'S window

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 lov'd;
    And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
    The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
    Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love
    The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
 

Enter THURIO and MUSICIANS

 
    But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window,
    And give some evening music to her ear.
  THURIO. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us?
  PROTEUS. Ay, gentle Thurio; for you know that love
    Will creep in service where it cannot go.
  THURIO. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.
  PROTEUS. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
  THURIO. Who? Silvia?
  PROTEUS. Ay, Silvia- for your sake.
  THURIO. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
    Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.
 

Enter at a distance, HOST, and JULIA in boy's clothes

 
  HOST. Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly; I pray
you,
    why is it?
  JULIA. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.
  HOST. Come, we'll have you merry; I'll bring you where you
shall
    hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.
  JULIA. But shall I hear him speak?
  HOST. Ay, that you shall. [Music plays]
  JULIA. That will be music.
  HOST. Hark, hark!
  JULIA. Is he among these?
  HOST. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em.
 

SONG

 
         Who is Silvia? What is she,
           That all our swains commend her?
         Holy, fair, and wise is she;
           The heaven such grace did lend her,
         That she might admired be.
 
 
         Is she kind as she is fair?
           For beauty lives with kindness.
         Love doth to her eyes repair,
           To help him of his blindness;
         And, being help'd, inhabits there.
 
 
         Then to Silvia let us sing
           That Silvia is excelling;
         She excels each mortal thing
           Upon the dull earth dwelling.
         'To her let us garlands bring.
 
 
  HOST. How now, are you sadder than you were before?
    How do you, man? The music likes you not.
  JULIA. You mistake; the musician likes me not.
  HOST. Why, my pretty youth?
  JULIA. He plays false, father.
  HOST. How, out of tune on the strings?
  JULIA. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very
    heart-strings.
  HOST. You have a quick ear.
  JULIA. Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart.
  HOST. I perceive you delight not in music.
  JULIA. Not a whit, when it jars so.
  HOST. Hark, what fine change is in the music!
  JULIA. Ay, that change is the spite.
  HOST. You would have them always play but one thing?
  JULIA. I would always have one play but one thing.
    But, Host, doth this Sir Proteus, that we talk on,
    Often resort unto this gentlewoman?
  HOST. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he lov'd her
out of
    all nick.
  JULIA. Where is Launce?
  HOST. Gone to seek his dog, which to-morrow, by his master's
    command, he must carry for a present to his lady.
  JULIA. Peace, stand aside; the company parts.
  PROTEUS. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will so plead
    That you shall say my cunning drift excels.
  THURIO. Where meet we?
  PROTEUS. At Saint Gregory's well.
  THURIO. Farewell. Exeunt THURIO and MUSICIANS
 

Enter SILVIA above, at her window

 
  PROTEUS. Madam, good ev'n to your ladyship.
  SILVIA. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.
    Who is that that spake?
  PROTEUS. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
    You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.
  SILVIA. Sir Proteus, as I take it.
  PROTEUS. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
  SILVIA. What's your will?
  PROTEUS. That I may compass yours.
  SILVIA. You have your wish; my will is even this,
    That presently you hie you home to bed.
    Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man,
    Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
    To be seduced by thy flattery
    That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
    Return, return, and make thy love amends.
    For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
    I am so far from granting thy request
    That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,
    And by and by intend to chide myself
    Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
  PROTEUS. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
    But she is dead.
  JULIA. [Aside] 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
    For I am sure she is not buried.
  SILVIA. Say that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
    Survives, to whom, thyself art witness,
    I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
    To wrong him with thy importunacy?
  PROTEUS. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.
  SILVIA. And so suppose am I; for in his grave
    Assure thyself my love is buried.
  PROTEUS. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
  SILVIA. Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence;
    Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.
  JULIA. [Aside] He heard not that.
  PROTEUS. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
    Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
    The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
    To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep;
    For, since the substance of your perfect self
    Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
    And to your shadow will I make true love.
  JULIA. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure,
deceive it
    And make it but a shadow, as I am.
  SILVIA. I am very loath to be your idol, sir;
    But since your falsehood shall become you well
    To worship shadows and adore false shapes,
    Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it;
    And so, good rest.
  PROTEUS. As wretches have o'ernight
    That wait for execution in the morn.
 

Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA

 
  JULIA. Host, will you go?
  HOST. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
  JULIA. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?
  HOST. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost day.
  JULIA. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
    That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. Exeunt