Array The griffin classics - William Shakespeare - Complete Collection

Pro. Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.

Speed. If the ground be overcharg’d, you were best stick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; ’twere best pound you.

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound—a pinfold.

Speed.

From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,

’Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

Pro. But what said she?

[Speed nods, and Proteus looks at him questioningly.]

Speed. Ay.

Pro. Nod-ay—why, that’s ‘noddy.’

Speed. You mistook, sir: I say, she did nod; and you ask me if she did nod, and I say, “Ay.”

Pro. And that set together is ‘noddy.’

Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.

Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.

Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me?

Speed. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly, having nothing but the word ‘noddy’ for my pains.

Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.

Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said she?

Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once deliver’d.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?

Speed. Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her.

Pro. Why? couldst thou perceive so much from her?

Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she’s as hard as steel.

Pro. What said she? nothing?

Speed. No, not so much as “Take this for thy pains.” To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have [testern’d] me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I’ll commend you to my master.

Pro.

Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wrack,

Which cannot perish having thee aboard,

Being destin’d to a drier death on shore.

[Exit Speed.]

I must go send some better messenger:

I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,

Receiving them from such a worthless post.

Exit

¶

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul.

But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,

Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?

Luc.

Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.

Jul.

Of all the fair resort of gentlemen

That every day with parle encounter me,

In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Luc.

Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind

According to my shallow simple skill.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?

Luc.

As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;

But were I you, he never should be mine.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?

Luc.

Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?

Luc.

Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!

Jul.

How now? what means this passion at his name?

Luc.

Pardon, dear madam, ’tis a passing shame

That I (unworthy body as I am)

Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul.

Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?

Luc.

Then thus: of many good I think him best.

Jul.

Your reason?

Luc.

I have no other but a woman’s reason:

I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul.

And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?

Luc.

Ay—if you thought your love not cast away.

Jul.

Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov’d me.

Luc.

Yet he, of all the rest, I think best loves ye.

Jul.

His little speaking shows his love but small.

Luc.

Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.

Jul.

They do not love that do not show their love.

Luc.

O, they love least that let men know their love.

Jul.

I would I knew his mind.

Luc.

Peruse this paper, madam.

Jul.

“To Julia”—say, from whom?

Luc.

That the contents will show.

Jul.

Say, say; who gave it thee?

Luc.

Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.

He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,

Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray.

Jul.

Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!

Dare you presume to harbor wanton lines?

To whisper and conspire against my youth?

Now trust me, ’tis an office of great worth,

And you an officer fit for the place.

There! take the paper; see it be return’d,

Or else return no more into my sight.

Luc.

To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.

Jul.

Will ye be gone?

Luc.

That you may ruminate.

Exit.

Jul.

And yet I would I had o’erlook’d the letter;

It were a shame to call her back again,

And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.

What ’fool is she, that knows I am a maid,

And would not force the letter to my view!

Since maids, in modesty, say “no” to that

Which they would have the profferer construe ‘ay.’

Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,

That (like a testy babe) will scratch the nurse

And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!

How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,

When willingly I would have had her here!

How angerly I taught my brow to frown,

When inward joy enforc’d my heart to smile!

My penance is, to call Lucetta back

And ask remission for my folly past.

What ho! Lucetta!

[Enter Lucetta.]

Luc.

What would your ladyship?

Jul.

Is’t near dinner-time?

Luc.

I would it were,

That you might kill your stomach on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

Jul.

What is’t that you

Took up so gingerly?

Luc.

Nothing.

Jul.

Why didst thou stoop then?

Luc.

To take a paper up that I let fall.

Jul.

And is that paper nothing?

Luc.

Nothing concerning me.

Jul.

Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

Luc.

Madam, it will not lie where it concerns

Unless it have a false interpreter.

Jul.

Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

Luc.

That I might sing it, madam, to a tune:

Give me a note, your ladyship can set.

Jul.

As little by such toys as may be possible:

Best sing it to the tune of “Light o’ love.”

Luc.

It is too heavy for so light a tune.

Jul.

Heavy? belike it hath some burden then?

Luc.

Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.

Jul.

And why not you?