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

Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

      I will forget that Julia is alive,

      Rememb’ring that my love to her is dead;

      And Valentine I’ll hold an enemy,

      Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

      I cannot now prove constant to myself,

      Without some treachery us’d to Valentine.

      This night he meaneth with a corded ladder

      To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window,

      Myself in counsel his competitor.

      Now presently I’ll give her father notice

      Of their disguising and pretended flight,

      Who, all enrag’d, will banish Valentine;

      For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;

      But, Valentine being gone, I’ll quickly cross

      By some sly trick blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding.

      Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,

      As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift.

       Exit.

       ¶

Scene VII

       Enter Julia and Lucetta.

       Jul.

      Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me;

      And ev’n in kind love I do conjure thee,

      Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

      Are visibly character’d and engrav’d,

      To lesson me and tell me some good mean

      How with my honor I may undertake

      A journey to my loving Proteus.

       Luc.

      Alas, the way is wearisome and long.

       Jul.

      A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

      To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;

      Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings to fly,

      And when the flight is made to one so dear,

      Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

       Luc.

      Better forbear till Proteus make return.

       Jul.

      O, know’st thou not his looks are my soul’s food?

      Pity the dearth that I have pined in,

      By longing for that food so long a time.

      Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,

      Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow

      As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

       Luc.

      I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire,

      But qualify the fire’s extreme rage,

      Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

       Jul.

      The more thou dam’st it up, the more it burns:

      The current that with gentle murmur glides,

      Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage;

      But when his fair course is not hindered,

      He makes sweet music with th’ enamell’d stones,

      Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

      He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

      And so by many winding nooks he strays

      With willing sport to the wild ocean.

      Then let me go, and hinder not my course:

      I’ll be as patient as a gentle stream,

      And make a pastime of each weary step,

      Till the last step have brought me to my love,

      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 likes, Lucetta.

       Luc.

      You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

       Jul.

      Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favor’d.

       Luc.

      A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin,

      Unless you have a codpiece 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