The Two Gentlemen of Verona Part 5

Speed. What need she, When shee hath made you write to your selfe?

Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?

Val. No, beleeue me

Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir: But did you perceiue her earnest?

Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word

Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter

Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend

Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end

Val. I would it were no worse

Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well: For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply, Or fearing els some messe[n]ger, y might her mind discouer Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write vnto her louer.

All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.

Why muse you sir, 'tis dinner time

Val. I haue dyn'd

Speed. I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.

Exeunt.

Scoena secunda.

Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.

Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia: Iul. I must where is no remedy

Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne

Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner: Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake

Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange; Here, take you this

Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse

Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie: And when that howre ore-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake, The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse: My father staies my comming: answere not: The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares, That tide will stay me longer then I should, Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?

I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake, For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it

Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for

Pro. Goe: I come, I come: Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Launce, Panthion.

Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very fault: I haue receiu'd my proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls Court: I thinke Crab my dog, be the sowrest natured dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting: nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my father: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left shooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther: yes; it is so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shooe with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father: a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my sister: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge: oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe: I; so, so: now come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now should not the shooe speake a word for weeping: now should I kisse my Father; well, hee weepes on: Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe: Now come I to my sister; marke the moane she makes: now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor speakes a word: but see how I lay the dust with my teares

Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is s.h.i.+p'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the matter? why weep'st thou man? away a.s.se, you'l loose the Tide, if you tarry any longer

Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide

Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?

Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog

Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and in loosing the flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy voyage, loose thy Master, and in loosing thy Master, loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy seruice: - why dost thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue

Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?

Laun. In thy Tale

Panth. In thy Taile

Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes

Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call thee

Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st

Pant. Wilt thou goe?

Laun. Well, I will goe.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus.

Sil. Seruant

Val. Mistris

Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you

Val. I Boy, it's for loue

Spee. Not of you

Val. Of my Mistresse then

Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him