Speeches (Lines) for Julia in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona"

Proteus. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
Which cannot perish having thee aboard,
Being destined to a drier death on shore.
[Exit SPEED]
I must go send some better messenger:
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post.

Julia. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?

Lucetta. Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.

Julia. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Lucetta. Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.

Julia. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?

Lucetta. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;
But, were I you, he never should be mine.

Julia. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?

Lucetta. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.

Julia. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?

Lucetta. Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!

Julia. How now! what means this passion at his name?

Lucetta. Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Julia. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?

Lucetta. Then thus: of many good I think him best.

Julia. Your reason?

Lucetta. I have no other, but a woman's reason;
I think him so because I think him so.

Julia. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?

Lucetta. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.

Julia. Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me.

Lucetta. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.

Julia. His little speaking shows his love but small.

Lucetta. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.

Julia. They do not love that do not show their love.

Lucetta. O, they love least that let men know their love.

Julia. I would I knew his mind.

Lucetta. Peruse this paper, madam.

Julia. 'To Julia.' Say, from whom?

Lucetta. That the contents will show.

Julia. Say, say, who gave it thee?

Lucetta. Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.
He would have given it you; but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it: pardon the
fault I pray.

Julia. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth
And you an officer fit for the place.
Or else return no more into my sight.

Lucetta. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.

Julia. Will ye be gone?

Lucetta. That you may ruminate.

Julia. And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter:
It were a shame to call her back again
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that
Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.'
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!

Lucetta. What would your ladyship?

Julia. Is't near dinner-time?

Lucetta. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat
And not upon your maid.

Julia. What is't that you took up so gingerly?

Lucetta. Nothing.

Julia. Why didst thou stoop, then?

Lucetta. To take a paper up that I let fall.

Julia. And is that paper nothing?

Lucetta. Nothing concerning me.

Julia. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

Lucetta. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns
Unless it have a false interpeter.

Julia. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

Lucetta. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
Give me a note: your ladyship can set.

Julia. As little by such toys as may be possible.
Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'

Lucetta. It is too heavy for so light a tune.

Julia. Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?

Lucetta. Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.

Julia. And why not you?

Lucetta. I cannot reach so high.

Julia. Let's see your song. How now, minion!

Lucetta. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.

Julia. You do not?

Lucetta. No, madam; it is too sharp.

Julia. You, minion, are too saucy.

Lucetta. Nay, now you are too flat
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Julia. The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass.

Lucetta. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.

Julia. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation!
[Tears the letter]
Go get you gone, and let the papers lie:
You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Lucetta. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased
To be so anger'd with another letter.

Julia. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one on another:
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Lucetta. Madam,
Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

Julia. Well, let us go.

Lucetta. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?

Julia. If you respect them, best to take them up.

Lucetta. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.

Julia. I see you have a month's mind to them.

Lucetta. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.

Julia. Come, come; will't please you go?

Proteus. Have patience, gentle Julia.

Julia. I must, where is no remedy.

Proteus. When possibly I can, I will return.

Julia. If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.

Proteus. Why then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this.

Julia. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

Proteus. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;
And even that power which gave me first my oath
Provokes me to this threefold perjury;
Love bade me swear and Love bids me forswear.
O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there I leave to love where I should love.
Julia I lose and Valentine I lose:
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss
For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend,
For love is still most precious in itself;
And Silvia--witness Heaven, that made her fair!--
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembering 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 used 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 enraged, 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!

Julia. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me;
And even in kind love I do conjure thee,
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engraved,
To lesson me and tell me some good mean
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.

Lucetta. Alas, the way is wearisome and long!

Julia. 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.

Lucetta. Better forbear till Proteus make return.

Julia. 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.

Lucetta. 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.

Julia. The more thou damm'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 the enamell'ed 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.

Lucetta. But in what habit will you go along?

Julia. 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.

Lucetta. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair.

Julia. 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.

Lucetta. What fashion, madam shall I make your breeches?

Julia. That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?'
Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.

Lucetta. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

Julia. Out, out, Lucetta! that would be ill-favour'd.

Lucetta. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin,
Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.

Julia. Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have
What thou thinkest 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 scandalized.

Lucetta. If you think so, then stay at home and go not.

Julia. Nay, that I will not.

Lucetta. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey when you come,
No matter who's displeased when you are gone:
I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.

Julia. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears
And instances of infinite of love
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Lucetta. All these are servants to deceitful men.

Julia. Base men, that use them to so base effect!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

Lucetta. Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him!

Julia. Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong
To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
Only deserve my love by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but to it presently!
I am impatient of my tarriance.

Host. Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly: I
pray you, why is it?

Julia. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where
you shall hear music and see the gentleman that you asked for.

Julia. But shall I hear him speak?

Host. Ay, that you shall.

Julia. That will be music.

Host. Hark, hark!

Julia. Is he among these?

Host. How now! are you sadder than you were before? How
do you, man? the music likes you not.

Julia. You mistake; the musician likes me not.

Host. Why, my pretty youth?

Julia. He plays false, father.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings?

Julia. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very
heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

Julia. Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive you delight not in music.

Julia. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music!

Julia. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would have them always play but one thing?

Julia. I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on
Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he loved
her out of all nick.

Julia. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which tomorrow, by his
master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Julia. Peace! stand aside: the company parts.

Proteus. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

Julia. [Aside] 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

Silvia. Go to thy lady's grave and call hers thence,
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

Julia. [Aside] He heard not that.

Proteus. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
For since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow will I make true love.

Julia. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure,
deceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Proteus. As wretches have o'ernight
That wait for execution in the morn.

Julia. Host, will you go?

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.

Julia. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?

Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost
day.

Julia. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd and the most heaviest.

Proteus. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well
And will employ thee in some service presently.

Julia. In what you please: I'll do what I can.

Proteus. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here?
[Exit LAUNCE]
A slave, that still an end turns me to shame!
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly that I have need of such a youth
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout,
But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior,
Which, if my augury deceive me not,
Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth:
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to Madam Silvia:
She loved me well deliver'd it to me.

Julia. It seems you loved not her, to leave her token.
She is dead, belike?

Proteus. Not so; I think she lives.

Julia. Alas!

Proteus. Why dost thou cry 'alas'?

Julia. I cannot choose
But pity her.

Proteus. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

Julia. Because methinks that she loved you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams of him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!'

Proteus. Well, give her that ring and therewithal
This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary.

Julia. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him I must pity him.
This ring I gave him when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will;
And now am I, unhappy messenger,
To plead for that which I would not obtain,
To carry that which I would have refused,
To praise his faith which I would have dispraised.
I am my master's true-confirmed love;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
[Enter SILVIA, attended]
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.

Silvia. What would you with her, if that I be she?

Julia. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

Silvia. From whom?

Julia. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.

Silvia. O, he sends you for a picture.

Julia. Ay, madam.

Silvia. Ursula, bring my picture here.
Go give your master this: tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.

Julia. Madam, please you peruse this letter.--
Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:
This is the letter to your ladyship.

Silvia. I pray thee, let me look on that again.

Julia. It may not be; good madam, pardon me.

Silvia. There, hold!
I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know they are stuff'd with protestations
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.

Julia. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.

Silvia. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger have profaned the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Julia. She thanks you.

Silvia. What say'st thou?

Julia. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.

Silvia. Dost thou know her?

Julia. Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes I do protest
That I have wept a hundred several times.

Silvia. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.

Julia. I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.

Silvia. Is she not passing fair?

Julia. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:
When she did think my master loved her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you:
But since she did neglect her looking-glass
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Silvia. How tall was she?

Julia. About my stature; for at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep agood,
For I did play a lamentable part:
Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

Silvia. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!
I weep myself to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lovest her.
Farewell.

Julia. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture: let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
What should it be that he respects in her
But I can make respective in myself,
If this fond Love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, loved and adored!
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes
To make my master out of love with thee!

Thurio. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.

Julia. [Aside] But love will not be spurr'd to what
it loathes.

Proteus. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.

Julia. [Aside] 'Tis true; such pearls as put out
ladies' eyes;
For I had rather wink than look on them.

Thurio. But well, when I discourse of love and peace?

Julia. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.

Proteus. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.

Julia. [Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.

Proteus. That you are well derived.

Julia. [Aside] True; from a gentleman to a fool.

Thurio. Wherefore?

Julia. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them.

Proteus. That they are out by lease.

Julia. Here comes the duke.

Proteus. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love
Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.

Julia. And I will follow, more to cross that love
Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love.

Silvia. By thy approach thou makest me most unhappy.

Julia. [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your presence.

Valentine. Then I am paid;
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased:
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

Julia. O me unhappy!

Valentine. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter?
Look up; speak.

Julia. O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring
to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.

Proteus. Where is that ring, boy?

Julia. Here 'tis; this is it.

Proteus. How! let me see:
Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

Julia. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

Proteus. But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart
I gave this unto Julia.

Julia. And Julia herself did give it me;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.

Proteus. How! Julia!

Julia. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!
Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me
Such an immodest raiment, if shame live
In a disguise of love:
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

Proteus. Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever.

Julia. And I mine.