Two Gentlemen of Verona (Folio 1, 1623)
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The two Gentlemen of Verona.
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¶Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls
¶dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father
¶wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our
600Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great
¶perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde
¶more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept
¶to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing
605no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting:
¶ther: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left
610with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father:
¶small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the
¶dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge:
¶there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe:
¶now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor
625teares.
¶the Tide, if you tarry any longer.
¶vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide.
¶Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog.
¶Laun. In thy Tale.
¶Panth. In thy Taile.
¶ster, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer
645were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde
¶were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes.
¶thee.
650Pant. Wilt thou goe?
¶Laun. Well, I will goe.
¶
Exeunt.
¶
Scena Quarta.
¶
Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus.
655Sil. Seruant.
¶Val. I Boy, it's for loue.
¶Spee. Not of you.
¶Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him.
¶Thu. Seeme you that you are not?
665Val. Hap'ly I doe.
¶Thu. So doe Counterfeyts.
¶Val. So doe you.
¶Val. Your folly.
¶Thu. And how quoat you my folly?
¶Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin.
¶Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet.
675Val. Well then, Ile double your folly.
¶Thu. How?
¶Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?
¶ Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion.
¶Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud,
680then liue in your ayre.
¶Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time.
685Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer.
¶Sil. Who is that Seruant?
¶Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,
¶And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company.
¶make your wit bankrupt.
¶And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers:
¶For it appeares by their bare Liueries
695That they liue by your bare words.
¶Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:
¶Here comes my father.
¶Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,
700What say you to a Letter from your friends
¶Of much good newes?
¶Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,
¶Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?
705Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman
¶To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
¶Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?
710The honor, and regard of such a father.
¶Duk. You know him well?
¶And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant,
715Omitting the sweet benefit of time
¶To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection:
¶Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)
¶Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies:
¶His yeares but yong, but his experience old:
720His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;
¶And in a word (for far behinde his worth
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