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The two Gentlemen of Verona.
Scæna septima.
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me,And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,Who art the Table wherein all my thoughtsAre visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,To lesson me, and tell me some good meaneHow with my honour I may vndertakeA iourney to my louing Protheus
Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long
Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not wearyTo measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps,Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,And when the flight is made to one so deere,Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus
Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne
Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food?Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in,By longing for that food so long a time.Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue,Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snowAs seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words
Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire,But qualifie the fires extreame rage,Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason
Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes:The Current that with gentle murmure glides(Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage:But when his faire course is not hindered,He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones,Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedgeHe ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.And so by many winding nookes he straiesWith willing sport to the wilde Ocean.Then let me goe, and hinder not my course:Ile be as patient as a gentle streame,And make a pastime of each weary step,Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue,And there Ile rest, as after much turmoileA blessed soule doth in Elizium.
Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?
Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuentThe loose encounters of lasciuious men:Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedesAs may beseeme some well reputed Page.
Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire
Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings,With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots:To be fantastique, may become a youthOf greater time then I shall shew to be.
Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?
Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)What compasse will you weare your Farthingale?Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)
Luc. You must needs haue thẽ with a cod-peece (Madam)
Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd
Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pinVnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on
Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haueWhat thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.But tell me (wench) how will the world repute meFor vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not
Iul. Nay, that I will not
Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go:If Protheus like your iourney, when you come,No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all.
Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare:A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,And instances of infinite of Loue,Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.
Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men.
Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect;But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth,His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate,His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart,His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth.
Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him.
Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong,To beare a hard opinion of his truth:Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,And presently goe with me to my chamberTo take a note of what I stand in need of,To furnish me vpon my longing iourney:All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,My goods, my Lands, my reputation,Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:Come; answere not: but to it presently,I am impatient of my tarriance. Exeunt.
Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine,
Launce, Speed.
Launce, Speed.
Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while,We haue some secrets to confer about.Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?
Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold discouer,The Law of friendship bids me to conceale,But when I call to minde your gracious fauoursDone to me (vndeseruing as I am)My dutie pricks me on to vtter thatWhich else, no worldly good should draw from me:Know (worthy Prince) Sir Valentine my friendThis night intends to steale away your daughter:My selfe am one made priuy to the plot.I know you haue determin'd to bestow herOn Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,And should she thus be stolne away from you,It would be much vexation to your age.Thus (for my duties sake) I rather choseTo crosse my friend in his intended drift,Then (by concealing it) heap on your headA pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe(Being vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue
Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care,Which to requite, command me while I liue.This loue of theirs, my selfe haue often seene,Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe,And oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid
Sir
