William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...). William Shakespeare

sweet life!

      Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;

      Here is her oath for love, her honor’s pawn:

      O that our fathers would applaud our loves,

      To seal our happiness with their consents!

      O heavenly Julia!

       Ant.

      How now? what letter are you reading there?

       Pro.

      May’t please your lordship, ’tis a word or two

      Of commendations sent from Valentine,

      Deliver’d by a friend that came from him.

       Ant.

      Lend me the letter; let me see what news.

       Pro.

      There is no news, my lord, but that he writes

      How happily he lives, how well-belov’d

      And daily graced by the Emperor;

      Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.

       Ant.

      And how stand you affected to his wish?

       Pro.

      As one relying on your lordship’s will,

      And not depending on his friendly wish.

       Ant.

      My will is something sorted with his wish:

      Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;

      For what I will, I will, and there an end.

      I am resolv’d that thou shalt spend some time

      With Valentinus in the Emperor’s court;

      What maintenance he from his friends receives,

      Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.

      To-morrow be in readiness to go—

      Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

       Pro.

      My lord I cannot be so soon provided:

      Please you deliberate a day or two.

       Ant.

      Look what thou want’st shall be sent after thee.

      No more of stay: to-morrow thou must go.

      Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ’d

      To hasten on his expedition.

       [Exeunt Antonio and Panthino.]

       Pro.

      Thus have I shunn’d the fire for fear of burning,

      And drench’d me in the sea, where I am drown’d.

      I fear’d to show my father Julia’s letter,

      Lest he should take exceptions to my love,

      And with the vantage of mine own excuse

      Hath he excepted most against my love.

      O, how this spring of love resembleth

      The uncertain glory of an April day,

      Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,

      And by and by a cloud takes all away.

       [Enter Panthino.]

       Pan.

      Sir Proteus, your [father] calls for you:

      He is in haste; therefore I pray you go.

       Pro.

      Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,

      And yet a thousand times it answers ‘no.’

       Exeunt.

       ¶

      ACT II

      Scene I

       Enter Valentine, Speed.

       Speed.

      Sir, your glove.

       Val.

      Not mine: my gloves are on.

       Speed.

      Why then this may be yours—for this is but one.

       Val.

      Ha? let me see; ay, give it me, it’s mine:

      Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine—

      Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

      Speed [Shouting.]

      Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!

      Val. How now, sirrah?

      Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.

      Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her?

      Speed. Your worship, sir, or else I mistook.

      Val. Well—you’ll still be too forward.

      Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.

      Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?

      Speed. She that your worship loves?

      Val. Why, how know you that I am in love?

      Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learn’d, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laugh’d, to crow like a cock; when you walk’d, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you look’d sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphis’d with a mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

      Val. Are all these things perceiv’d in me?

      Speed. They are all perceiv’d without ye.

      Val. Without me? they cannot.

      Speed. Without you? nay, that’s certain; for without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady.

      Val. But tell me: dost thou know my lady Silvia?

      Speed. She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?

      Val. Hast thou observ’d that? Even she I mean.

      Speed. Why, sir, I know her not.

      Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know’st her not?

      Speed. Is she not hard-favor’d, sir?

      Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favor’d.

      Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.

      Val. What dost thou know?

      Speed.