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.
Exeunt
2.6
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
2.7
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.
Exeunt
3.1
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