« PředchozíPokračovat »
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Duke. About it, gentlemen.
Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper,
ACT IV. SCENE I.-A Forest, between Milan and Verona.
But to the purpose ; for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives :
And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd
As we do in our quality much want3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about 3 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, you;
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you.
Are you content to be our general ?
And live, as we do, in this wilderness?
3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort? 1 Out. That's not so, sir : we are your enemies. Say, ay, and be the captain of us all. 2 Out. Peace! we'll hear him.
We'll do thee homage, and be ruld by thee, 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper Love thee as our commander, and our king.
1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have A man I am cross'd with adversity :
offer'd. My riches are these poor habiliments,
Val. I take your offer, and will live with you; Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
Provided that you do no outrages You take the sum and substance that I have.
On silly women, or poor passengers, 2 Out. Whither travel you?
3 Out. No; we detest such vile, base practices. Val. To Verona.
Come, go with us : we'll bring thee to our cave, 1 Out. Whence came you?
And show thee all the treasure we have got, Val. From Milan.
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Exeunt. 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd'there?
SCENE II.-Milan. The Court of the Palace. Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have stay'd,
Enter PROTEUS. If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, 2 Out. What! were you banish'd thence ?
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. Val. I was.
Under the colour of commending him, 2 Out. For what offence ?
I have access my own love to prefer; Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse. But Silvia is too fair, too true, too boly, I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,
When I protest true loyalty to her, Without false vantage, or base treachery.
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; 1 Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. When to her beauty 1 commend my vows, But were you banish'd for so small a fault?
She bids me think how I have been forsworn, Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd : 1 Out. Have you the tongues ?
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips, Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, Or else I had been often miserable.
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, The more it grows, and fawneth on her still. This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window, 1 Out. We'll have him. Sirs, a word.
And give some evening music to her ear. [They talk apart.
Enter Thurio, and Musicians. Speed. Master, be one of them :
Thu. How now, sir Proteus ! are you crept before us ? It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love Val. Peace, villain !
Will creep in service where it cannot go. 2 Out. Tell us this : have you any thing to take to? Thu. Ay; but I hope, sir, that you love not here. Val. Nothing, but my fortune.
Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, Thu. Whom? Silvia ? Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake. Thrust from the company of awful men:
Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Myself was from Verona banished,
Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile. For practising to steal away a lady,
Enter Host and Julia (in boy's clothes), behind. An heir, and near allied unto the duke.
Host. Now, my young guest; methinks you're ally2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, cholly : I pray you, why is it? Who, in my mood, I stabb’d unto the heart.
Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. 1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. Host. Come, we'll have you merry. I'll bring you
where you shall hear music, and see the gentlemen Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, that you ask'd for.
To be seduced by thy flattery, Jul. But shall I hear him speak ?
That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ? Host. Ay, that you shall.
Return, return, and make thy love amends. Jul. That will be music.
[Music plays. For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, Host. Hark! Hark !
I am so far from granting thy request, Jul. Is he among these?
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit, Host. Ay; but peace ! let's hear 'em.
And by and by intend to chide myself
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.
Jul. [Aside.] 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Is she kind, as she is fair,
Survives, to whom thyself art witness
I am betroth'd ; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?
Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave,
Assure thyself, my love is buried.
Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence; She excels each mortal thing,
Or, at the least, in her's
Jul. [.Aside.] He heard not that.
Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Host. How now! are you sadder than you were Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, before? How do you, man? the music likes you not. The picture that is hanging in your chamber :
Jul. You mistake: the musician likes me not. 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, Host. How? out of tune on the strings ?
And to your shadow will I make true love. Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my Jul. [ Aside.] If 'twere a substance, you would, very heart-strings.
sure, deceive it, Host. You have a quick ear.
And make it but a shadow, as I am. Jul. Ay; I would I were deaf ! it makes me have a Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir ; slow heart.
But, since your falsehood, 't shall become you well Host. I perceive, you delight not in music. To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. [Music plays again. Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it. Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music. And so, good rest. Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.
As wretches have o'er night, Host. You would not have them always play but That wait for execution in the morn. one thing ?
[Exeunt Proteus and Silvia. Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. Jul. Host, will you go? But, Host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. Often resort unto this gentlewoman?
Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ? Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think, 'tis lov'd her out of all nick.
almost day. Jul. Where is Launce ?
Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. [Exeunt. his master's command, he must carry for a present to
SCENE III.-The Same.
Entreated me to call, and know her mind.
There's some great matter she'd employ me in.Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Enter Silvia above, at her window.
Sil. Who calls ?
Your servant, and your friend; Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. One that attends your ladyship's command. Who is that, that spake ?
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow.
I am thus early come, to know what service
Sil. O Êglamour, thou art a gentleman,
That I may compass yours. Think not ì flatter, for I swear I do not,
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine ;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
suffer'd for’t: thou think'st not of this now.–Nay, I Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
remember the trick you served me, when I took my Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say, leave of madam Silvia. Did not I bid thee still mark No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave As when thy lady and thy true love died,
up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. farthingale ? Didst thou ever see me do such a trick ? Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
Enter Proteus and JULIA. To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
And will employ thee in some service presently. I do desire thy worthy company,
Jul. In what you please : I will do what I can. Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How, now, you whoreson Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
peasant! But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
Where have you been these two days loitering? And on the justice of my flying hence,
Launce. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog To keep me from a most unholy match,
you bade me. Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues. Pro. And what says she to my little jewel? I do desire thee, even from a heart
Launce. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present. To bear me company, and go with me :
Pro. But she receiv'd my dog ? If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
Launce. No, indeed, did she not. Here have I That I may venture to depart alone.
brought him back again. Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances,
Pro. What! didst thou offer her this cur from me? And the most true affections that you bear;
Launce. Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, me by a hangman boy in the market-place; and then I give consent to go along with you;
I offer'd her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten Recking as little what betideth me,
of yours, and therefore the gift the greater. As much I wish all good befortune you.
Pro. Go; get thee hence, and find my dog again, When will you go?
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say! Stayest thou to vex me here?
A slave that still an end turns me to shame.
[Exit Launce. Where I intend holy confession.
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
That can with some discretion do my business,
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour,
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth : Launce. When a man's servant shall play the cur Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee. with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought Go presently, and take this ring with thee : up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when Deliver it to madam Silvia. three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me. it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, Jul. It seems, you lov'd not her, to leave her token. thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him She's dead, belike? as a present to mistress Silvia from my master, and I Pro.
Not so: I think, she lives. came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps Jul. Alas! me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O! 'tis Pro. Why dost thou cry alas? a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. companies. I would have, as one should say, one that Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, As you do love your lady Silvia. to take a fau upon me that he did, I think verily, he She dreams on him, that has forgot her love; had been hang'd for't: sure as I live, he had suffer'd You dote on her, that cares not for your love. for’t. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary, company of three or four gentleman-like dogs under and thinking on it makes me cry alas ! the duke's table : he had not been there (bless the Pro. Well, give to her that ring; and therewithal mark) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. This letter :—that's her chamber.- Tell my lady “Out with the dog!" says one ; "what cur is that?" I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. says another ; "whip him out,” says the third ; "hang Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, him up," says the duke. I, having been acquainted Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. Exit. with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me Jul. How many women would do such a message? to the fellow that whips the dogs :“Friend," quoth I; Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd “ do you mean to whip the dog ?” Ay, marry, do I, A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. quoth he. “You do him the more wrong," quoth I; Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him, " 'twas I did the thing you wot of.” He makes me no That with his very heart despiseth me? more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How Because he loves her, he despiseth me; many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, I'll Because I love him, I must pity him. be sworn I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath This ring I gave him when he parted from me, stolen, otherwise he had been executed : I have stood To bind him to remember my good will, on the pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had And now am I (unhappy messenger!)
To plead for that which I would not obtain;
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
That now she is become as black as I.
Sil. How tall was she? Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Jul. About my stature; for, at pentecost, Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd, As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. Our youth got me to play the woman's part, Enter Silvia, attended.
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown, Gentlewoman, good day. I pray you, be my mean Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia. As if the garment had been made for me :
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she? Therefore, I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep a-good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.-
Jul. Madam, so please you to peruse this letter.- I weep myself, to think upon thy words. Pardon me, madam, I have unadvis'd [ Giving a letter. Here, youth; there is my purse: I give thee this Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her. This is the letter to your ladyship. [Giving another letter. Farewell.
[Exit Silvia. Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know Jul. It may not be: good madam, pardon me.
her. Sil. There, hold.
[Giving it back. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful! I will not look upon your master's lines :
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Here is her picture. Let me see : I think,
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me; Were full as lovely as is this of hers; For, I have heard him say, a thousand times, And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Unless I flatter with myself too much. Though his false finger have profan'd the ring, Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow : Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
If that be all the difference in his love, Jul. She thanks you.
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. Sil. What say'st thou?
Her eyes are green as grass, and so are mine : Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high. Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. What should it be, that he respects in her, Sil. Dost thou know her?
But I can make respective in myself, Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself:
If this fond love were not a blinded god ? To think upon her woes, I do protest,
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, That I have wept a hundred several times.
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form! Sil. Belike, she thinks, that Proteus hath forsook her. Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd; Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow. And, were there sense in his idolatry, Sil. Is she not passing fair ?
My substance should be statue in thy stead. Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, When she did think my master lov'd her well, That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow, She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
To make my master out of love with thee. [Exit.
SCENE 1.- The Same. An Abbey.
Sil. Amen, amen. Go on, good Eglamour,
Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;
[Ereunt. SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the Duke's
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her? Thu. What! that my leg is too long?
3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us ; Pro. No, that it is too little.
But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him. Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; Jul. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loaths. There is our captain. We'll follow him that's fled :
[Aside. The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. Thu. What says she to my face?
1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave. Pro. She says it is a fair one.
Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies: my face is black. And will not use a woman lawlessly. Pro. But pearls are fair, and the old saying is, Sil. O Valentine ! this I endure for thee. (Exeunt. Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
SCENE IV.-Another Part of the Forest. Jul. 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes ; For I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside.
Enter Valentine. Thu. How likes she my discourse ?
Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.
These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods, Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace ? I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
[ Aside. And to the nightingale's complaining notes Thu. What says she to my valour?
Tune my distresses, and record my woes. Pro. O, sir! she makes no doubt of that,
O! thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. Leave not the mansion too long tenantless,
[Aside. Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, Thu. What says she to my birth?
And leave no memory of what it was ! Pro. That you are well deriv'd.
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ! Jul. True ; from a gentleman to a fool. [Aside. Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !Thu. Considers she my large possessions ?
What halloing, and what stir, is this to-day ? [Shouts. Pro. O! ay; and pities them.
These my rude mates, that make their wills their law, Thu. Wherefore ?
Have some unhappy passenger in chase. Jul. That such an ass should owe them. [Aside. They love me well; yet I have much to do, Pro. That they are out by lease.
To keep them from uncivil outrages. Jul. Here comes the duke.
Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here? Enter Duke, angrily.
[Withdraws. Duke. How now, sir Proteus! how now, Thurio !
Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia. Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late ?
Pro. Madam, this service having done for you, Thu. Not I.
(Though you respect not aught your servant doth) Pro. Nor I.
To hazard life, and rescue you from him, Duke. Saw you my daughter?
That would have forc'd your honour and your love, Pro. Neither.
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look. Duke. Why, then
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, She's filed unto that peasant Valentine,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. And Eglamour is in her company.
Val. How like a dream is this, I see, and hear! 'Tis true; for friar Lawrence met them both, Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. [Aside. As he in penance wander'd through the forest :
Sil. O, miserable ! unhappy that I am! Him he knew well; and guess'd that it was she, Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; But, being mask'd, he was not sure of her:
But by my coming I have made you happy. Besides, she did intend confession
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy. At Patrick's cell this even, and there she was not. Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your presence. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence :
[Aside. Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, But mount you presently; and meet with me I would have been a breakfast to the beast, Upon the rising of the mountain-foot,
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled. O, heaven! be judge, how I love Valentine, Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ;
[Exit in haste. And full as much (for more there cannot be) Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
I do detest false, perjur'd Proteus : That flies her fortune when it follows her.
Therefore be gone: solicit me no more. I'll after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour,
Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Than for the love of reckless Silvia.
[Exit. Would I not undergo for one calm look. Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, O! 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. (Exit. When women cannot love where they're belov'd.
Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love. [Exit. Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, SCENE III.—The Forest.
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury to love me. 1 Out. Come, come; be patient, we must bring you Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two, to our captain.
[Drawing her in. And that's far worse than none : better have none Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one Than plural faith, which is too much by one. Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! 2 Out. Come, bring her away.