William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (23 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.’

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