He is compleat in feature, and in minde,
With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman,
Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse loue,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And heere he meanes to spend his time a while,
I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you.
Should I haue wish'd a thing, it had beene he.
Welcome him then according to his worth:
Siluia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio,
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it,
I will send him hither to you presently.
This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship
Had come along with me, but that his Mistresse
Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall lookes.
Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Vpon some other pawne for fealty.
Nay sure, I thinke she holds them prisoners stil.
Nay then he should be blind, and being blind
How could he see his way to seeke out you?
Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paire of eyes.
They say that Loue hath not an eye at all.
To see such Louers, Thurio, as your selfe,
Vpon a homely obiect, Loue can winke.
Haue done, haue done: here comes y gentleman.
Welcome, deer Protheus: Mistris, I beseech you
Confirme his welcome, with some speciall fauor.
His worth is warrant for his welcome hether,
If this be he you oft haue wish'd to heare from.
Mistris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him
To be my fellow-seruant to your Ladiship.
Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant.
Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a seruant
To haue a looke of such a worthy a Mistresse.
Leaue off discourse of disabilitie:
Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your Seruant.
My dutie will I boast of, nothing else.
And dutie neuer yet did want his meed.
Seruant, you are welcome to a worthlesse Mistresse.
Ile die on him that saies so but your selfe.
That you are welcome?
That you are worthlesse.
Madam, my Lord your father wold speak with you
I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio,
Goe with me: once more, new Seruant welcome;
Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires,
When you haue done, we looke too heare from you.
Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship.
Now tell me: how do al from whence you came?
Your frends are wel, & haue thē much cōmended.
And how doe yours?
I left them all in health.
How does your Lady? & how thriues your loue?
My tales of Loue were wont to weary you,
I know you ioy not in a Loue-discourse.
I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I haue done pennance for contemning Loue,
Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily hart-sore sighes,
For in reuenge of my contempt of loue,
Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts sorrow.
O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confesse
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth:
Now, no discourse, except it be of loue:
Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe,
Vpon the very naked name of Loue.
Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the Idoll, that you worship so?
Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint?
No; But she is an earthly Paragon.
Call her diuine.
I will not flatter her.
O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises.
When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils,
And I must minister the like to you.
Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,
Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth.
Except my Mistresse.
Sweet: except not any,
Except thou wilt except against my Loue.
Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne?
And I will help thee to prefer her to:
Shee shall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steale a kisse,
And of so great a fauor growing proud,
Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre,
And make rough winter euerlastingly.
Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?
Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone.
Then let her alone.
Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne,
And I as rich in hauing such a Iewell
As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle,
The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold.
Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou seest me doate vpon my loue:
My foolish Riuall that her Father likes
(Onely for his possessions are so huge)
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For Loue (thou know'st is full of iealousie.)
But she loues you?
I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre,
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determin'd of: how I must climbe her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happinesse.
Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile.
Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth:
I must vnto the Road, to dis-embarque
Some necessaries, that I needs must vse,
And then Ile presently attend you.
Euen as one heate, another heate expels,
Or as one naile, by strength driues out another.
So the remembrance of my former Loue
Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,
It is mine, or Valentines praise?
Her true perfection, or my false transgression?
That makes me reasonlesse, to reason thus?
Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue,