William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

And, that my love may appear plain and free,

All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

JULIA.

O me unhappy! [Swoons]

PROTEUS.

Look to the boy.

VALENTINE.

Why, boy! why, wag! how now!

What’s the matter? Look up; speak.

JULIA.

O good sir, my master charg’d me to deliver a ring to Madam

Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.

PROTEUS.

Where is that ring, boy?

JULIA.

Here ‘tis; this is it. [Gives a ring.]

PROTEUS.

How! let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

JULIA.

O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook;

This is the ring you sent to Silvia. [Shows another ring.]

PROTEUS.

But how cam’st thou by this ring?

At my depart I gave this unto Julia.

JULIA.

And Julia herself did give it me;

And Julia herself have brought it hither.

PROTEUS.

How! Julia!

JULIA.

Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,

And entertain’d them deeply in her heart:

How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!

O Proteus! let this habit make thee blush.

Be thou asham’d that I have took upon me

Such an immodest raiment; if shame live

In a disguise of love.

It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,

Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

PROTEUS.

Than men their minds! ‘tis true. O heaven! were man

But constant, he were perfect: that one error

Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:

Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.

What is in Silvia’s face, but I may spy

More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye?

VALENTINE.

Come, come, a hand from either.

Let me be blest to make this happy close;

‘Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

PROTEUS.

Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.

JULIA.

And I mine.

[Enter OUTLAWS, with DUKE and THURIO.]

OUTLAW.

A prize, a prize, a prize!

VALENTINE.

Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke.

Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac’d,

Banished Valentine.

DUKE.

Sir Valentine!

THURIO.

Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia’s mine.

VALENTINE.

Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;

Come not within the measure of my wrath;

Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,

Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands

Take but possession of her with a touch;

I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.

THURIO.

Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;

I hold him but a fool that will endanger

His body for a girl that loves him not:

I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

DUKE.

The more degenerate and base art thou

To make such means for her as thou hast done,

And leave her on such slight conditions.

Now, by the honour of my ancestry,

I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

And think thee worthy of an empress’ love.

Know then, I here forget all former griefs,

Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,

Plead a new state in thy unrivall’d merit,

To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,

Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv’d;

Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv’d her.

VALENTINE.

I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy.

I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake,

To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

DUKE.

I grant it for thine own, whate’er it be.

VALENTINE.

These banish’d men, that I have kept withal,

Are men endu’d with worthy qualities:

Forgive them what they have committed here,

And let them be recall’d from their exile:

They are reformed, civil, full of good,

And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

DUKE.

Thou hast prevail’d; I pardon them, and thee;

Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts.

Come, let us go; we will include all jars

With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.

VALENTINE.

And, as we walk along, I dare be bold

With our discourse to make your Grace to smile.

What think you of this page, my lord?

DUKE.

I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.

VALENTINE.

I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.

DUKE.

What mean you by that saying?

VALENTINE.

Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along,

That you will wonder what hath fortuned.

Come, Proteus; ‘tis your penance but to hear

The story of your loves discovered:

That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;

One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.

[Exeunt.]

THE END

Table of Contents

Presented at the Blackfriers by the Kings Maiesties servants, with great applause:

By the memorable Worthies of their time;

Mr. John Fletcher, Gent., and

Mr. William Shakspeare, Gent.

Printed at London by Tho. Cotes, for John Waterson: and are to be sold at the signe of the Crowne in Pauls Churchyard. 1634.

(The Persons represented in the Play.

Hymen,

Theseus,

Hippolita, Bride to Theseus

Emelia, Sister to Theseus

[Emelia’s Woman],

Nymphs,

Three Queens,

Three valiant Knights,

Palamon, and

Arcite, The two Noble Kinsmen, in love with fair Emelia

[Valerius],

Perithous,

[A Herald],

[A Gentleman],

[A Messenger],

[A Servant],

[Wooer],

[Keeper],

Jaylor,

His Daughter, in love with Palamon

[His brother],

[A Doctor],

[4] Countreymen,

[2 Friends of the Jaylor],

[3 Knights],

[Nel, and other]

Wenches,

A Taborer,

Gerrold, A Schoolmaster.)

PROLOGVE.

[Florish.]

New Playes, and Maydenheads, are neare a kin,

Much follow’d both, for both much mony g’yn,

If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play

(Whose modest Sceanes blush on his marriage day,

And shake to loose his honour) is like hir

That after holy Tye and first nights stir

Yet still is Modestie, and still retaines

More of the maid to sight, than Husbands paines;

We pray our Play may be so; For I am sure

It has a noble Breeder, and a pure,

A learned, and a Poet never went

More famous yet twixt Po and silver Trent:

Chaucer (of all admir’d) the Story gives,

There constant to Eternity it lives.

If we let fall the Noblenesse of this,

And the first sound this child heare, be a hisse,

How will it shake the bones of that good man,

And make him cry from under ground, ‘O fan

From me the witles chaffe of such a wrighter

That blastes my Bayes, and my fam’d workes makes lighter

Then Robin Hood!’ This is the feare we bring;

For to say Truth, it were an endlesse thing,

And too ambitious, to aspire to him,

Weake as we are, and almost breathlesse swim

In this deepe water. Do but you hold out

Your helping hands, and we shall take about,

And something doe to save us: You shall heare

Sceanes, though below his Art, may yet appeare

Worth two houres travell. To his bones sweet sleepe:

Content to you. If this play doe not keepe

A little dull time from us, we perceave

Our losses fall so thicke, we must needs leave. [Florish.]

Actus Primus.

[Scaena 1.] (Athens. Before a temple.)

[Enter Hymen with a Torch burning: a Boy, in a white Robe before

singing, and strewing Flowres: After Hymen, a Nimph, encompast

in

her Tresses, bearing a wheaten Garland. Then Theseus betweene

two other Nimphs with wheaten Chaplets on their heades. Then