Two Gentlemen of Verona (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
24
The two Gentlemen of Verona.
¶bolder to chide you, for yours.
¶cease.
¶Speed. And haue you?
¶Val. I haue.
¶Speed. Are they not lamely writt?
485Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
¶Peace, here she comes.
¶ Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:
¶Now will he interpret to her.
490Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of
¶manners.
¶Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter
495Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours:
¶Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in,
¶But for my duty to your Ladiship.
500For being ignorant to whom it goes,
¶I writ at randome, very doubtfully.
505And yet ---
¶And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not.
¶And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you:
¶Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
510Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet.
¶Doe you not like it?
¶Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ,
¶But (since vnwillingly) take them againe.
515Nay, take them.
¶Val. Madam, they are for you.
¶But I will none of them: they are for you:
¶I would haue had them writ more mouingly:
525And so good-morrow Seruant.
Exit. Sil.
¶He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.
530Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better?
¶Val. How now Sir?
¶Val. To doe what?
¶Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia.
¶Val. To whom?
540Val. What figure?
545Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?
¶Val. No, beleeue me.
¶But did you perceiue her earnest?
¶Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word.
¶Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend.
¶Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well:
¶Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply,
¶All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
¶Val. I haue dyn'd.
¶can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my
¶victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like
Exeunt.
¶
Scœna secunda.
¶
Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.
¶Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:
¶Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake.
¶Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;
¶Here, take you this.
¶And when that howre ore-slips me in the day,
¶The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
¶Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?
¶For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it.
¶Pro. Goe: I come, I come:
¶Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.
590
Exeunt.
¶
Scœna Tertia.
¶
Enter Launce, Panthion.
¶ Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done
¶weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very
595fault: I haue receiu'd my proportion, like the prodigious
sonne,
