William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

And Silvia—witness heaven, that made her fair!—

Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive,

Remembering 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 us’d 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 enrag’d, 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.]

SCENE 7. Verona. A room in JULIA’S house.

[Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.]

JULIA.

Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me:

And, ev’n in kind love, I do conjure thee,

Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

Are visibly character’d and engrav’d,

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 stopp’d, impatiently doth rage;

But when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet music with th’ enamell’d 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 even what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta.

LUCETTA.

You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

JULIA.

Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favour’d.

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 scandaliz’d.

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 displeas’d when you are gone.

I fear me he will scarce be pleas’d 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 heav’n 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.]

ACT 3.

SCENE I. Milan. An anteroom in the DUKE’S palace.

[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 determin’d 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 judg’d me fast asleep,

And oftentimes have purpos’d 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 shunn’d,—

I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find

That which thyself hast now disclos’d 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 convey’d away.

PROTEUS.

Know, noble lord, they have devis’d 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.