Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Two Gentlemen of Verona/Act 4 Scene 4
Scena Quarta.
Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.
Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre withhim (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp ofa puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three orfoure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I hauetaught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus Iwould teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a presentto Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came nosooner into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to herTrencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foulething, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies:I would haue (as one should say) one that takes vponhim to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at allthings. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a faultvpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'dfor't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge:Hee thrusts me himselfe into the company of three orfoure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: heehad not bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, butall the chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one)what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies thethird) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquaintedwith the smell before, knew it was Crab; andgoes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend(quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I(quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twasI did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe,but whips me out of the chamber: how many Masterswould doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be sworne I hauesat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne, otherwisehe had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie forGeese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thouthink'st not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke youseru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I do; when did'stthou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against aGentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doesuch a tricke?
Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well,And will imploy thee in some seruice presently.
Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can.
Pro. I hope thou wilt.How now you whorson pezant,Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?
La. Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge youbad me.
Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell?
La. Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels youcurrish thanks is good enough for such a present.
Pro. But she receiu'd my dog?
La. No indeede did she not:Here haue I brought him backe againe.
Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
La. I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from meBy the Hangmans boyes in the market place,And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dogAs big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater.
Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe,Or nere returne againe into my sight.Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here;A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame:Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,Partly that I haue neede of such a youth,That can with some discretion doe my businesse:For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt;But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,Which (if my Augury deceiue me not)Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth:Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me.
Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token:She is dead belike?
Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues.
Iul. Alas.
Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?
Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?
Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as wellAs you doe loue your Lady Siluia:She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue,You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:And thinking on it, makes me cry alas
Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithallThis Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture:Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber,Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie.
Iul. How many women would doe such a message?Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'dA Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs;Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty himThat with his very heart despiseth me?Because he loues her, he despiseth me,Because I loue him, I must pitty him.This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,To binde him to remember my good will:And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)To plead for that, which I would not obtaine;To carry that, which I would haue refus'd;To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,But cannot be true seruant to my Master,Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meaneTo bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia.
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patienceTo heare me speake the message I am sent on
Sil. From whom?
Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam.
Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?
Iul. I, Madam.
Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there,Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me,One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forgetWould better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow.
Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter;Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'dDeliuer'd you a paper that I should not;This is the Letter to your Ladiship.
Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe.
Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me.
Sil. There, hold:I will not looke vpon your Masters lines:I know they are stuft with protestations,And full of new-found oathes, which he will breakeAs easily, as I doe teare his paper.
Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring.
Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me;For I haue heard him say a thousand times,His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring,Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong.
Iul. She thankes you
Sil. What sai'st thou?
Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her:Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much
Sil. Do'st thou know her?
Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protestThat I haue wept a hundred seuerall times.
Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?
Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow
Sil. Is she not passing faire?
Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is,When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well;She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes,And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,That now she is become as blacke as I
Sil. How tall was she?
Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost,When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,Our youth got me to play the womans part,And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements,As if the garment had bin made for me:Therefore I know she is about my height,And at that time I made her weepe a good. For I did play a lamentable part.(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioningFor Thesus periury, and vniust flight;Which I so liuely acted with my teares:That my poore Mistris moued therewithall,Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.
Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee thisFor thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell.
Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinkeIf I had such a Tyre, this face of mineWere full as louely, as is this of hers;And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;If that be all the difference in his loue,Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine.I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:What should it be that he respects in her,But I can make respectiue in my selfe?If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp,For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme,Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd;And were there sence in his Idolatry,My substance should be statue in thy stead.Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sakeThat vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes,Exeunt.To make my Master out of loue with thee.