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

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Valentine. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
Even as I would when I to love begin.

Proteus. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!
Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Valentine. And on a love-book pray for my success?

Proteus. Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.

Valentine. That's on some shallow story of deep love:
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

Proteus. That's a deep story of a deeper love:
For he was more than over shoes in love.

Valentine. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swum the Hellespont.

Proteus. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.

Valentine. No, I will not, for it boots thee not.

Proteus. What?

Valentine. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Proteus. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.

Valentine. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.

Proteus. 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love.

Valentine. Love is your master, for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.

Proteus. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

Valentine. And writers say, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu! my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.

Proteus. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

Valentine. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And likewise will visit thee with mine.

Proteus. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!

Valentine. As much to you at home! and so, farewell.

Speed. Sir, your glove.

Valentine. Not mine; my gloves are on.

Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.

Valentine. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!

Valentine. How now, sirrah?

Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.

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

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

Valentine. Well, you'll still be too forward.

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

Valentine. Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?

Speed. She that your worship loves?

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

Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have
learned, 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 school-boy 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 laughed, to crow like a cock; when you
walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you
fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you
looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you
are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look
on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Valentine. Are all these things perceived in me?

Speed. They are all perceived without ye.

Valentine. 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.

Valentine. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?

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

Valentine. Hast thou observed that? even she, I mean.

Speed. Why, sir, I know her not.

Valentine. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet
knowest her not?

Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir?

Valentine. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.

Valentine. What dost thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured.

Valentine. I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted and the other out
of all count.

Valentine. How painted? and how out of count?

Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no
man counts of her beauty.

Valentine. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.

Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.

Valentine. How long hath she been deformed?

Speed. Ever since you loved her.

Valentine. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I
see her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.

Valentine. Why?

Speed. Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes;
or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to
have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going
ungartered!

Valentine. What should I see then?

Speed. Your own present folly and her passing deformity:
for he, being in love, could not see to garter his
hose, and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

Valentine. Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last
morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you,
you swinged me for my love, which makes me the
bolder to chide you for yours.

Valentine. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would cease.

Valentine. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to
one she loves.

Speed. And have you?

Valentine. I have.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ?

Valentine. No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace!
here she comes.

Speed. [Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!
Now will he interpret to her.

Valentine. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.

Speed. [Aside] He should give her interest and she gives it him.

Valentine. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in
But for my duty to your ladyship.

Silvia. I thank you gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.

Valentine. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For being ignorant to whom it goes
I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Silvia. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Valentine. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write
Please you command, a thousand times as much; And yet--

Speed. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another 'yet.'

Valentine. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?

Silvia. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ;
But since unwillingly, take them again.
Nay, take them.

Valentine. Madam, they are for you.

Silvia. Ay, ay: you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you;
I would have had them writ more movingly.

Valentine. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.

Silvia. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over,
And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.

Valentine. If it please me, madam, what then?

Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
My master sues to her, and she hath
taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! was there ever heard a better,
That my master, being scribe, to himself should write
the letter?

Valentine. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.

Valentine. To do what?

Speed. To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia.

Valentine. To whom?

Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.

Valentine. What figure?

Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Valentine. Why, she hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to
yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?

Valentine. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive
her earnest?

Valentine. She gave me none, except an angry word.

Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.

Valentine. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.

Valentine. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:
For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover,
Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.
All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time.

Valentine. I have dined.

Silvia. Servant!

Valentine. Mistress?

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.

Valentine. Ay, boy, it's for love.

Speed. Not of you.

Valentine. Of my mistress, then.

Silvia. Servant, you are sad.

Valentine. Indeed, madam, I seem so.

Thurio. Seem you that you are not?

Valentine. Haply I do.

Thurio. So do counterfeits.

Valentine. So do you.

Thurio. What seem I that I am not?

Valentine. Wise.

Thurio. What instance of the contrary?

Valentine. Your folly.

Thurio. And how quote you my folly?

Valentine. I quote it in your jerkin.

Thurio. My jerkin is a doublet.

Valentine. Well, then, I'll double your folly.

Silvia. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour?

Valentine. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon.

Thurio. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live
in your air.

Valentine. You have said, sir.

Thurio. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.

Valentine. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin.

Silvia. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

Valentine. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.

Silvia. Who is that, servant?

Valentine. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir
Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks,
and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.

Thurio. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt.

Valentine. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words,
and, I think, no other treasure to give your
followers, for it appears by their bare liveries,
that they live by your bare words.

Duke of Milan. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?

Valentine. My lord, I will be thankful.
To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke of Milan. Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman?

Valentine. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth and worthy estimation
And not without desert so well reputed.

Duke of Milan. Hath he not a son?

Valentine. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke of Milan. You know him well?

Valentine. I know him as myself; for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, for far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow,
He is complete in feature and in mind
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke of Milan. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an empress' love
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Valentine. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.

Duke of Milan. Welcome him then according to his worth.
Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio;
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:
I will send him hither to you presently.

Valentine. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Silvia. Belike that now she hath enfranchised them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Valentine. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.

Silvia. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind
How could he see his way to seek out you?

Valentine. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.

Thurio. They say that Love hath not an eye at all.

Valentine. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:
Upon a homely object Love can wink.

Silvia. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.

Valentine. Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

Silvia. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.

Valentine. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Proteus. Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Valentine. Leave off discourse of disability:
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

Proteus. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

Valentine. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?

Proteus. Your friends are well and have them much commended.

Valentine. And how do yours?

Proteus. I left them all in health.

Valentine. How does your lady? and how thrives your love?

Proteus. My tales of love were wont to weary you;
I know you joy not in a love discourse.

Valentine. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs;
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his service no such joy on earth.
Now no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

Proteus. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this the idol that you worship so?

Valentine. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?

Proteus. No; but she is an earthly paragon.

Valentine. Call her divine.

Proteus. I will not flatter her.

Valentine. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

Proteus. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.

Valentine. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.

Proteus. Except my mistress.

Valentine. Sweet, except not any;
Except thou wilt except against my love.

Proteus. Have I not reason to prefer mine own?

Valentine. And I will help thee to prefer her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour--
To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
And make rough winter everlastingly.

Proteus. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this?

Valentine. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing
To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone.

Proteus. Then let her alone.

Valentine. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou see'st me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

Proteus. But she loves you?

Valentine. Ay, and we are betroth'd: nay, more, our,
marriage-hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determined of; how I must climb her window,
The ladder made of cords, and all the means
Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

Proteus. Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use,
And then I'll presently attend you.

Valentine. Will you make haste?

Duke of Milan. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

Valentine. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.

Duke of Milan. Be they of much import?

Valentine. The tenor of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.

Duke of Milan. Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile;
I am to break with thee of some affairs
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

Valentine. I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?

Duke of Milan. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my child
Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.

Valentine. What would your Grace have me to do in this?

Duke of Milan. There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor--
For long agone I have forgot to court;
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed--
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Valentine. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.

Duke of Milan. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

Valentine. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!'
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke of Milan. But she I mean is promised by her friends
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.

Valentine. Why, then, I would resort to her by night.

Duke of Milan. Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Valentine. What lets but one may enter at her window?

Duke of Milan. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.

Valentine. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duke of Milan. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.

Valentine. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke of Milan. This very night; for Love is like a child,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Valentine. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke of Milan. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone:
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Valentine. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length.

Duke of Milan. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

Valentine. Ay, my good lord.

Duke of Milan. Then let me see thy cloak:
I'll get me one of such another length.

Valentine. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.

Duke of Milan. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'!
And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.
[Reads]
'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
And slaves they are to me that send them flying:
O, could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!
My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them:
While I, their king, that hither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,
Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord would be.'
What's here?
'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.'
'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton,--for thou art Merops' son,--
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder! overweening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence:
Thank me for this more than for all the favours
Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence.

Valentine. And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Proteus. Valentine?

Valentine. No.

Proteus. Who then? his spirit?

Valentine. Neither.

Proteus. What then?

Valentine. Nothing.

Proteus. Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.

Valentine. My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news,
So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

Proteus. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untuneable and bad.

Valentine. Is Silvia dead?

Proteus. No, Valentine.

Valentine. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia.
Hath she forsworn me?

Proteus. No, Valentine.

Valentine. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.
What is your news?

Proteus. That thou art banished--O, that's the news!--
From hence, from Silvia and from me thy friend.

Valentine. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Proteus. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom--
Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force--
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafed him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Valentine. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st
Have some malignant power upon my life:
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Proteus. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:
Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me!

Valentine. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.

Proteus. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

Valentine. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!

Speed. Sir, we are undone; these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.

Valentine. My friends,--

Third Outlaw. Ay, by my beard, will we, for he's a proper man.

Valentine. Then know that I have little wealth to lose:
A man I am cross'd with adversity;
My riches are these poor habiliments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.

Second Outlaw. Whither travel you?

Valentine. To Verona.

First Outlaw. Whence came you?

Valentine. From Milan.

Third Outlaw. Have you long sojourned there?

Valentine. Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

First Outlaw. What, were you banish'd thence?

Valentine. I was.

Second Outlaw. For what offence?

Valentine. For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage or base treachery.

First Outlaw. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so.
But were you banish'd for so small a fault?

Valentine. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.

Second Outlaw. Have you the tongues?

Valentine. My youthful travel therein made me happy,
Or else I often had been miserable.

Speed. Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery.

Valentine. Peace, villain!

Second Outlaw. Tell us this: have you any thing to take to?

Valentine. Nothing but my fortune.

Second Outlaw. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.

Valentine. I take your offer and will live with you,
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers.

Silvia. O Valentine, this I endure for thee!

Valentine. How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!
What halloing and what stir is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger in chase.
They love me well; yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here?

Proteus. Madam, this service I have done for you,
Though you respect not aught your servant doth,
To hazard life and rescue you from him
That would have forced your honour and your love;
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.

Valentine. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

Proteus. I'll force thee yield to my desire.

Valentine. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion!

Proteus. Valentine!

Valentine. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love,
For such is a friend now; treacherous man!
Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say
I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.
Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand
Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus,
I am sorry I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

Proteus. My shame and guilt confounds me.
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit.

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.

Proteus. Look to the boy.

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

Proteus. Than men their minds! 'tis true.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect. That one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:
Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye?

Valentine. Come, come, a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close;
'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

Outlaws. A prize, a prize, a prize!

Valentine. Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke.
Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced,
Banished Valentine.

Thurio. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.

Valentine. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
Come not within the measure of my wrath;
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands;
Take but possession of her with a touch:
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.

Duke of Milan. The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means for her as thou hast done
And leave her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress' love:
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman and well derived;
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.

Valentine. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boom that I shall ask of you.

Duke of Milan. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be.

Valentine. These banish'd men that I have kept withal
Are men endued with worthy qualities:
Forgive them what they have committed here
And let them be recall'd from their exile:
They are reformed, civil, full of good
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

Duke of Milan. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them and thee:
Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts.
Come, let us go: we will include all jars
With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity.

Valentine. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
With our discourse to make your grace to smile.
What think you of this page, my lord?

Duke of Milan. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.

Valentine. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.

Duke of Milan. What mean you by that saying?

Valentine. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned.
Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance but to hear
The story of your loves discovered:
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.