Imatges de pÓgina

And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,

A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
JUL. 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.
Luc. Why, then your ladyship must cut your hair.
JUL. 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.

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
JUL. That fits as well as-" tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?"
Why, ev'n what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta.
Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, madain.
JUL. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd.

Luc. A round hose, madam, now 's not worth a pin,

Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on.

JUL. 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.

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.
JUL. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. 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.
JUL. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances of infinite a of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
JUL. 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.

Infinite-infinity. The same form of expression occurs in Chaucer:-" Although the life of it be stretched with infinite of time." The reading we give is that of the first folio. The common reading is that of the second folio:-" Instances as infinite."

Luc. Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him!
JUL. 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, despatch me hence:
Come, answer not, but to it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance.


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SCENE I.-Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's Palace.


DUKE. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;

We have some secrets to confer about.
Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?
PRO. 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 stolen 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 err1,
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.
PRO. 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.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery be not aimed at "";
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence ".
DUKE. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
PRO. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming.


DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VAL. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.

DUKE. Be they of much import?
VAL. The tenor of them doth but signify

My health, and happy being at your court.
DUKE. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while;
I am to break with thee of some affairs,

That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
"T is not unknown to thee, that I have sought
To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter.
VAL. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match

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Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolv'd to take a wife,

And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
VAL. What would your grace have me to do in this?
DUKE. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here,

Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,
(For long agone I have forgot to court:
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;)
How, and which way I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

VAL. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,

More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
DUKE. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VAL. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her:
Send her another; never give her o'er;

For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 't is not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say:
For "get you gone," she doth not mean “away;'
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,

If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

• Where-whereas.

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The original has "There is a lady in Verona, here," but the scene is clearly in Milan; and therefore Pope's alteration must be received.

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