SCENE IV. Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant. Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good you knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. 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. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. 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. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a son? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honor and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew 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; Duke. 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. And here he means to spend his time a while : I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you. Val. Should I have wished a thing, it had been he. Duke. 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: : [Exit DUKE. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchised them Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter PROTEUS. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus!-Mistress, I beseech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favor. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me: - Once more, new servant, welcome: I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. [Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much com mended. Val. And how do yours? Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now: I have done penance for contemning love; With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes, And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no wo 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, Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? Val. Call her divine. Pro. I will not flatter her. Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you. Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Val. Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Pro. Then let her alone. Val. 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, Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee, Val. Ay, and we are betrothed; Nay, more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Some necessaries that I needs must use; Val. Will you make haste? Pro. I will. — Even as one heat another heat expels, [Exit VAL. Or as one nail by strength drives out another, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, [Exit. |