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Уильям Шекспир
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
SCENE III. Verona. ANTONIO'S house
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 wond'red 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 consider'd well his loss of time,
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry achiev'd,
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 advis'd;
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. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso
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.
Enter PROTEUS
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,
Deliver'd 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-belov'd
And daily graced 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 resolv'd 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.
To-morrow 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; to-morrow thou must go.
Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition.
Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO
PROTEUS. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd 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 an by a cloud takes all away!
Re-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.' Exeunt
ACT II. SCENE I. Milan. The DUKE'S palace
Enter VALENTINE and SPEED
SPEED. 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. [Calling] 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 learn'd,
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 school-boy that had lost
his
A B C; 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 walk'd,
to
walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently
after dinner; when you look'd sadly, it was for want of
money.
And now you are metamorphis'd with a mistress, that, when I
look
on you, I can hardly think you my master.
VALENTINE. Are all these things perceiv'd in me?
SPEED. They are all perceiv'd 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 observ'd 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-favour'd, sir?
VALENTINE. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd.
SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough.
VALENTINE. What dost thou know?
SPEED. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favour'd.
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 deform'd.
VALENTINE. How long hath she been deform'd?
SPEED. Ever since you lov'd her.
VALENTINE. I have lov'd 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 ungarter'd!
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
swing'd 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 enjoin'd me to write some lines to
one
she loves.
SPEED. And have you?
VALENTINE. I have.
SPEED. Are they not lamely writ?
VALENTINE. No, boy, but as well as I can do them.
Enter SILVIA
Peace! here she comes.
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 ev'n!
Here's a million of manners.
SILVIA. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
SPEED. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it
him.
VALENTINE. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your ladyship.
SILVIA. I thank you, gentle servant. 'Tis very clerkly done.
VALENTINE. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For, being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully.
SILVIA. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
VALENTINE. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write,
Please you command, a thousand times as much;
And yet-
SILVIA. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;
And yet I will not name it- and yet I care not.
And yet take this again- and yet I thank you-
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
SPEED. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another' yet.'
VALENTINE. What means your ladyship? Do you not like it?
SILVIA. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ;
But, since unwillingly, take them again.
Nay, take them. [Gives hack the letter]
VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you.
SILVIA. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.
VALENTINE. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
SILVIA. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over;
And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
VALENTINE. If it please me, madam, what then?
SILVIA. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour.
And so good morrow, servant. Exit SILVIA
SPEED. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! Was there ever heard a better,
That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the
letter?
VALENTINE. How now, sir! What are you reasoning with yourself?
SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.
VALENTINE. To do what?
SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia?
VALENTINE. To whom?
SPEED. To yourself; why, she woos you by a figure.
VALENTINE. What figure?
SPEED. By a letter, I should say.
VALENTINE. Why, she hath not writ to me.
SPEED. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself?
Why, do you not perceive the jest?
VALENTINE. No, believe me.
SPEED. No believing you indeed, sir. But did you perceive her
earnest?
VALENTINE. She gave me none except an angry word.
SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter.
VALENTINE. That's the letter I writ to her friend.
SPEED. And that letter hath she deliver'd, 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 din'd.
SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed
on
the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals, and would
fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress! Be moved, be
moved.
Exeunt
SCENE II. Verona. JULIA'S house
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA
PROTEUS. Have patience, gentle Julia.
JULIA. I must, where is no remedy.
PROTEUS. When possibly I can, I will return.
JULIA. If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
[Giving a ring]
PROTEUS. Why, then, we'll make exchange. Here, take you this.
JULIA. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
PROTEUS. Here is my hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now- nay, not thy tide of tears:
That tide will stay me longer than I should.
Julia, farewell! Exit JULIA
What, gone without a word?
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
Enter PANTHINO
PANTHINO. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
PROTEUS. Go; I come, I come.
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. Exeunt
SCENE III. Verona. A street
Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog
LAUNCE. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all
the
kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have receiv'd my
proportion, like the Prodigious Son, and am going with Sir
Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab my dog be the
sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father
wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing
her
hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not
this
cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble
stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would
have
wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no
eyes,
look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show
you
the manner of it. This shoe is my father; no, this left shoe
is
my father; no, no, left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot
be so
neither; yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole.
This
shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A
vengeance on 't! There 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my
sister,
for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a
wand;
this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is
himself,
and I am the dog- O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so,
so.
Now come I to my father: 'Father, your blessing.' Now should
not
the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my
father;
well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O that she could
speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her- why there
'tis;
here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my
sister;
mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not
a
tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my
tears.
Enter PANTHINO
PANTHINO. Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp'd,
and
thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? Why
weep'st
thou, man? Away, ass! You'll lose the tide if you tarry any
longer.
LAUNCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the
unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
PANTHINO. What's the unkindest tide?
LAUNCE. Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog.
PANTHINO. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in
losing
the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose
thy
master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in
losing thy service- Why dost thou stop my mouth?
LAUNCE. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PANTHINO. Where should I lose my tongue?
LAUNCE. In thy tale.
PANTHINO. In thy tail!
LAUNCE. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the
service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am
able
to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could
drive
the boat with my sighs.
PANTHINO. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
LAUNCE. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.
PANTHINO. Will thou go?
LAUNCE. Well, I will go. Exeunt
