Array The griffin classics - William Shakespeare - Complete Collection

Pro.

I will.

Exit [Valentine].

Even as one heat another heat expels,

Or as one nail by strength drives out another,

So the remembrance of my former love

Is by a newer object quite forgotten.

[Is it] mine [eye], or Valentinus’ praise,

Her true perfection, or my false transgression,

That makes me reasonless, to reason thus?

She is fair; and so is Julia that I love

(That I did love, for now my love is thaw’d,

Which like a waxen image ’gainst a fire

Bears no impression of the thing it was).

Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,

And that I love him not as I was wont:

O, but I love his lady too too much,

And that’s the reason I love him so little.

How shall I dote on her with more advice,

That thus without advice begin to love her?

’Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,

And that hath dazzled my reason’s light;

But when I look on her perfections,

There is no reason but I shall be blind.

If I can check my erring love, I will;

If not, to compass her I’ll use my skill.

Exit.

¶

Enter Speed and Launce, [meeting].

Speed. Launce, by mine honesty, welcome to [Milan].

Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never undone till he be hang’d, nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess say “Welcome.”

Speed. Come on, you madcap, I’ll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam Julia?

Launce. Marry, after they clos’d in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.

Speed. But shall she marry him?

Launce. No.

Speed. How then? shall he marry her?

Launce. No, neither.

Speed. What, are they broken?

Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish.

Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them?

Launce. Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.

Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.

Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me.

Speed. What thou say’st?

Launce. Ay, and what I do too. Look thee, I’ll but lean, and my staff understands me.

Speed. It stands under thee indeed.

Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.

Speed. But tell me true, will’t be a match?

Launce. Ask my dog. If he say ay, it will; if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will.

Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will.

Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.

Speed. ’Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say’st thou that my master is become a notable lover?

Launce. I never knew him otherwise.

Speed. Than how?

Launce. A notable lubber—as thou reportest him to be.

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak’st me.

Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy master.

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.

Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.

Speed. Why?

Launce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?

Speed. At thy service.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Proteus solus.

Pro.

To leave my Julia—shall I be forsworn?

To love fair Silvia—shall I be forsworn?

To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn.

And ev’n that pow’r which gave me first my oath

Provokes me to this threefold perjury.

Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear.

O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinn’d,

Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!

At first I did adore a twinkling star,

But now I worship a celestial sun.

Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken,

And he wants wit that wants resolved will

To learn his wit t’ exchange the bad for better.

Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad,

Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr’d

With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.

I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;

But there I leave to love where I should love.

Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose:

If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;

If I lose them, thus find I by their loss—

For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.

I to myself am dearer than a friend,

For love is still most precious in itself,

And Silvia (witness heaven, that made her fair)

Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive,

Rememb’ring 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.

¶

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul.

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 honor I may undertake

A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc.

Alas, the way is wearisome and long.

Jul.

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.

Luc.

Better forbear till Proteus make return.

Jul.

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.

Luc.

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.

Jul.

The more thou dam’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: