Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare

Act 3 - Scene 1

Milan. The DUKE’s palace.

Duke of Milan : Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; [p]We have some secrets to
confer about. [p][Exit THURIO] [p]Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your
will with me?

Proteus : My gracious lord, that which I would discover [p]The law of friendship
bids me to conceal; [p]But when I call to mind your gracious
favours [p]Done to me, undeserving as I am, [p]My duty pricks me on to
utter that [p]Which else no worldly good should draw from me. [p]Know,
worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, [p]This night intends to
steal away your daughter: [p]Myself am one made privy to the
plot. [p]I know you have determined to bestow her [p]On Thurio, whom
your gentle daughter hates; [p]And should she thus be stol'n away from
you, [p]It would be much vexation to your age. [p]Thus, for my duty's
sake, I rather chose [p]To cross my friend in his intended
drift [p]Than, by concealing it, heap on your head [p]A pack of
sorrows which would press you down, [p]Being unprevented, to your
timeless grave.

Duke of Milan : Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; [p]Which to requite,
command me while I live. [p]This love of theirs myself have often
seen, [p]Haply when they have judged me fast asleep, [p]And oftentimes
have purposed to forbid [p]Sir Valentine her company and my
court: [p]But fearing lest my jealous aim might err [p]And so
unworthily disgrace the man, [p]A rashness that I ever yet have
shunn'd, [p]I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find [p]That which
thyself hast now disclosed to me. [p]And, that thou mayst perceive my
fear of this, [p]Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, [p]I
nightly lodge her in an upper tower, [p]The key whereof myself have
ever kept; [p]And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Proteus : Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean [p]How he her
chamber-window will ascend [p]And with a corded ladder fetch her
down; [p]For which the youthful lover now is gone [p]And this way
comes he with it presently; [p]Where, if it please you, you may
intercept him. [p]But, good my Lord, do it so cunningly [p]That my
discovery be not aimed at; [p]For love of you, not hate unto my
friend, [p]Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

Duke of Milan : Upon mine honour, he shall never know [p]That I had any light from
thee of this.

Proteus : Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming.

Duke of Milan : Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

Valentine : Please it your grace, there is a messenger [p]That stays to bear my
letters to my friends, [p]And I am going to deliver them.

Duke of Milan : Be they of much import?

Valentine : The tenor of them doth but signify [p]My health and happy being at
your court.

Duke of Milan : Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile; [p]I am to break with thee
of some affairs [p]That touch me near, wherein thou must be
secret. [p]'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought [p]To match my
friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

Valentine : I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match [p]Were rich and
honourable; besides, the gentleman [p]Is full of virtue, bounty, worth
and qualities [p]Beseeming such a wife as your fair
daughter: [p]Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?

Duke of Milan : No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, [p]Proud, disobedient,
stubborn, lacking duty, [p]Neither regarding that she is my
child [p]Nor fearing me as if I were her father; [p]And, may I say to
thee, this pride of hers, [p]Upon advice, hath drawn my love from
her; [p]And, where I thought the remnant of mine age [p]Should have
been cherish'd by her child-like duty, [p]I now am full resolved to
take a wife [p]And turn her out to who will take her in: [p]Then let
her beauty be her wedding-dower; [p]For me and my possessions she
esteems not.

Valentine : What would your Grace have me to do in this?

Duke of Milan : There is a lady in Verona here [p]Whom I affect; but she is nice and
coy [p]And nought esteems my aged eloquence: [p]Now therefore would I
have thee to my tutor-- [p]For long agone I have forgot to
court; [p]Besides, the fashion of the time is changed-- [p]How and
which way I may bestow myself [p]To be regarded in her sun-bright
eye.

Valentine : Win her with gifts, if she respect not words: [p]Dumb jewels often in
their silent kind [p]More than quick words do move a woman's mind.

Duke of Milan : But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

Valentine : A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her. [p]Send her another;
never give her o'er; [p]For scorn at first makes after-love the
more. [p]If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, [p]But rather to
beget more love in you: [p]If she do chide, 'tis not to have you
gone; [p]For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. [p]Take no
repulse, whatever she doth say; [p]For 'get you gone,' she doth not
mean 'away!' [p]Flatter and praise, commend, extol their
graces; [p]Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. [p]That
man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, [p]If with his tongue he
cannot win a woman.

Duke of Milan : But she I mean is promised by her friends [p]Unto a youthful gentleman
of worth, [p]And kept severely from resort of men, [p]That no man hath
access by day to her.

Valentine : Why, then, I would resort to her by night.

Duke of Milan : Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe, [p]That no man hath
recourse to her by night.

Valentine : What lets but one may enter at her window?

Duke of Milan : Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, [p]And built so shelving
that one cannot climb it [p]Without apparent hazard of his life.

Valentine : Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, [p]To cast up, with a pair
of anchoring hooks, [p]Would serve to scale another Hero's
tower, [p]So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duke of Milan : Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, [p]Advise me where I may have
such a ladder.

Valentine : When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke of Milan : This very night; for Love is like a child, [p]That longs for every
thing that he can come by.

Valentine : By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke of Milan : But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: [p]How shall I best convey the
ladder thither?

Valentine : It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it [p]Under a cloak that
is of any length.

Duke of Milan : A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

Valentine : Ay, my good lord.

Duke of Milan : Then let me see thy cloak: [p]I'll get me one of such another length.

Valentine : Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.

Duke of Milan : How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? [p]I pray thee, let me feel
thy cloak upon me. [p]What letter is this same? What's here? 'To
Silvia'! [p]And here an engine fit for my proceeding. [p]I'll be so
bold to break the seal for once. [p][Reads] [p]'My thoughts do harbour
with my Silvia nightly, [p]And slaves they are to me that send them
flying: [p]O, could their master come and go as lightly, [p]Himself
would lodge where senseless they are lying! [p]My herald thoughts in
thy pure bosom rest them: [p]While I, their king, that hither them
importune, [p]Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd
them, [p]Because myself do want my servants' fortune: [p]I curse
myself, for they are sent by me, [p]That they should harbour where
their lord would be.' [p]What's here? [p]'Silvia, this night I will
enfranchise thee.' [p]'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the
purpose. [p]Why, Phaeton,--for thou art Merops' son,-- [p]Wilt thou
aspire to guide the heavenly car [p]And with thy daring folly burn the
world? [p]Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? [p]Go,
base intruder! overweening slave! [p]Bestow thy fawning smiles on
equal mates, [p]And think my patience, more than thy desert, [p]Is
privilege for thy departure hence: [p]Thank me for this more than for
all the favours [p]Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee. [p]But
if thou linger in my territories [p]Longer than swiftest
expedition [p]Will give thee time to leave our royal court, [p]By
heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love [p]I ever bore my daughter
or thyself. [p]Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse; [p]But, as
thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence.

Valentine : And why not death rather than living torment? [p]To die is to be
banish'd from myself; [p]And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her [p]Is
self from self: a deadly banishment! [p]What light is light, if Silvia
be not seen? [p]What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? [p]Unless it be
to think that she is by [p]And feed upon the shadow of
perfection [p]Except I be by Silvia in the night, [p]There is no music
in the nightingale; [p]Unless I look on Silvia in the day, [p]There is
no day for me to look upon; [p]She is my essence, and I leave to
be, [p]If I be not by her fair influence [p]Foster'd, illumined,
cherish'd, kept alive. [p]I fly not death, to fly his deadly
doom: [p]Tarry I here, I but attend on death: [p]But, fly I hence, I
fly away from life.

Proteus : Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

Launce : Soho, soho!

Proteus : What seest thou?

Launce : Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head [p]but 'tis a
Valentine.

Proteus : Valentine?

Valentine : No.

Proteus : Who then? his spirit?

Valentine : Neither.

Proteus : What then?

Valentine : Nothing.

Launce : Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

Proteus : Who wouldst thou strike?

Launce : Nothing.

Proteus : Villain, forbear.

Launce : Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,--

Proteus : Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.

Valentine : My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news, [p]So much of bad already
hath possess'd them.

Proteus : Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, [p]For they are harsh,
untuneable and bad.

Valentine : Is Silvia dead?

Proteus : No, Valentine.

Valentine : No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. [p]Hath she forsworn me?

Proteus : No, Valentine.

Valentine : No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. [p]What is your news?

Launce : Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

Proteus : That thou art banished--O, that's the news!-- [p]From hence, from
Silvia and from me thy friend.

Valentine : O, I have fed upon this woe already, [p]And now excess of it will make
me surfeit. [p]Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Proteus : Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom-- [p]Which, unreversed,
stands in effectual force-- [p]A sea of melting pearl, which some call
tears: [p]Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; [p]With
them, upon her knees, her humble self; [p]Wringing her hands, whose
whiteness so became them [p]As if but now they waxed pale for
woe: [p]But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, [p]Sad sighs,
deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, [p]Could penetrate her
uncompassionate sire; [p]But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must
die. [p]Besides, her intercession chafed him so, [p]When she for thy
repeal was suppliant, [p]That to close prison he commanded
her, [p]With many bitter threats of biding there.

Valentine : No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st [p]Have some
malignant power upon my life: [p]If so, I pray thee, breathe it in
mine ear, [p]As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Proteus : Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, [p]And study help for
that which thou lament'st. [p]Time is the nurse and breeder of all
good. [p]Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; [p]Besides,
thy staying will abridge thy life. [p]Hope is a lover's staff; walk
hence with that [p]And manage it against despairing thoughts. [p]Thy
letters may be here, though thou art hence; [p]Which, being writ to
me, shall be deliver'd [p]Even in the milk-white bosom of thy
love. [p]The time now serves not to expostulate: [p]Come, I'll convey
thee through the city-gate; [p]And, ere I part with thee, confer at
large [p]Of all that may concern thy love-affairs. [p]As thou lovest
Silvia, though not for thyself, [p]Regard thy danger, and along with
me!

Valentine : I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, [p]Bid him make haste
and meet me at the North-gate.

Proteus : Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

Valentine : O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!

Launce : I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to [p]think my
master is a kind of a knave: but that's [p]all one, if he be but one
knave. He lives not now [p]that knows me to be in love; yet I am in
love; but a [p]team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor
who [p]'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I [p]will
not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet [p]'tis not a maid, for
she hath had gossips; yet 'tis [p]a maid, for she is her master's
maid, and serves for [p]wages. She hath more qualities than a
water-spaniel; [p]which is much in a bare Christian. [p][Pulling out a
paper] [p]Here is the cate-log of her condition. [p]'Imprimis: She can
fetch and carry.' Why, a horse [p]can do no more: nay, a horse cannot
fetch, but only [p]carry; therefore is she better than a jade.
'Item: [p]She can milk;' look you, a sweet virtue in a maid [p]with
clean hands.

Speed : How now, Signior Launce! what news with your [p]mastership?

Launce : With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.

Speed : Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What [p]news, then, in
your paper?

Launce : The blackest news that ever thou heardest.

Speed : Why, man, how black?

Launce : Why, as black as ink.

Speed : Let me read them.

Launce : Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read.

Speed : Thou liest; I can.

Launce : I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?

Speed : Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Launce : O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy [p]grandmother: this
proves that thou canst not read.

Speed : Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper.

Launce : There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed : [Reads] 'Imprimis: She can milk.'

Launce : Ay, that she can.

Speed : 'Item: She brews good ale.'

Launce : And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your [p]heart, you brew
good ale.'

Speed : 'Item: She can sew.'

Launce : That's as much as to say, Can she so?

Speed : 'Item: She can knit.'

Launce : What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when [p]she can knit
him a stock?

Speed : 'Item: She can wash and scour.'

Launce : A special virtue: for then she need not be washed [p]and scoured.

Speed : 'Item: She can spin.'

Launce : Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can [p]spin for her
living.

Speed : 'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.'

Launce : That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, [p]indeed, know not
their fathers and therefore have no names.

Speed : 'Here follow her vices.'

Launce : Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed : 'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting in respect [p]of her breath.'

Launce : Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.

Speed : 'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.'

Launce : That makes amends for her sour breath.

Speed : 'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.'

Launce : It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed : 'Item: She is slow in words.'

Launce : O villain, that set this down among her vices! To [p]be slow in words
is a woman's only virtue: I pray [p]thee, out with't, and place it for
her chief virtue.

Speed : 'Item: She is proud.'

Launce : Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot [p]be ta'en from
her.

Speed : 'Item: She hath no teeth.'

Launce : I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

Speed : 'Item: She is curst.'

Launce : Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Speed : 'Item: She will often praise her liquor.'

Launce : If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I [p]will; for good
things should be praised.

Speed : 'Item: She is too liberal.'

Launce : Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she [p]is slow of; of
her purse she shall not, for that [p]I'll keep shut: now, of another
thing she may, and [p]that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

Speed : 'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults [p]than hairs, and
more wealth than faults.'

Launce : Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not [p]mine, twice or
thrice in that last article. [p]Rehearse that once more.

Speed : 'Item: She hath more hair than wit,'--

Launce : More hair than wit? It may be; I'll prove it. The [p]cover of the salt
hides the salt, and therefore it [p]is more than the salt; the hair
that covers the wit [p]is more than the wit, for the greater hides
the [p]less. What's next?

Speed : 'And more faults than hairs,'--

Launce : That's monstrous: O, that that were out!

Speed : 'And more wealth than faults.'

Launce : Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, [p]I'll have her; and
if it be a match, as nothing is [p]impossible,--

Speed : What then?

Launce : Why, then will I tell thee--that thy master stays [p]for thee at the
North-gate.

Speed : For me?

Launce : For thee! ay, who art thou? he hath stayed for a [p]better man than
thee.

Speed : And must I go to him?

Launce : Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long [p]that going will
scarce serve the turn.

Speed : Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love letters!

Launce : Now will he be swinged for reading my letter; an [p]unmannerly slave,
that will thrust himself into [p]secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in
the boy's correction.

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Next: Act 3 - Scene 2

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