Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Not Peer Reviewed

Two Gentlemen of Verona (Folio 1, 1623)


Scœna septima.
975
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me,
And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,
980To lesson me, and tell me some good meane
How with my honour I may vndertake
A iourney to my louing Protheus.
Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long.
Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary
985To measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps,
Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,
And when the flight is made to one so deere,
Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus.
Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne.
990 Iul. Oh, know'st yu not, his looks are my soules food?
Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue,
Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snow
995As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words.
Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire,
But qualifie the fires extreame rage,
Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason.
Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes:
1000The Current that with gentle murmure glides
(Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage:
But when his faire course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones,
Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedge
1005He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nookes he straies
With willing sport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my course:
Ile be as patient as a gentle streame,
1010And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue,
And there Ile rest, as after much turmoile
A blessed soule doth in Elizium.
Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?
1015Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent
The loose encounters of lasciuious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes
As may beseeme some well reputed Page.
Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire.
1020Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings,
With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots:
To be fantastique, may become a youth
Of greater time then I shall shew to be.
Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your bree-
1025Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)
What compasse will you weare your Farthingale?
Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)
Luc. You must needs haue thē with a cod-peece (Ma-
Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd.
Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin
Vnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on.
Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.
But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
1035For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?
I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not.
Iul. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go:
1040If Protheus like your iourney, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all.
Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare:
A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,
1045And instances of infinite of Loue,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.
Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men.
Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect;
But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth,
1050His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth.
Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him.
1055Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong,
To beare a hard opinion of his truth:
Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,
And presently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
1060To furnish me vpon my longing iourney:
All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come; answere not: but to it presently,
1065I am impatient of my tarriance.
Exeunt.