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  • Title: Two Gentlemen of Verona (Folio 1, 1623)

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Two Gentlemen of Verona (Folio 1, 1623)

    Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls
    Court: I thinke Crab mydog, be the sowrest natured
    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
    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
    605no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting:
    nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my fa-
    ther: 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
    610with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father:
    a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my si-
    ster: 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:
    615oh, 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
    620now, 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
    Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is
    ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the
    matter? why weep'st thou man? away asse, you'l loose
    the Tide, if you tarry any longer.
    630 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
    635in 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.
    640Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?
    Laun. In thy Tale.
    Panth. In thy Taile.
    Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Ma-
    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.
    Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call
    Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st.
    650Pant. Wilt thou goe?
    Laun. Well, I will goe.

    Scena Quarta.

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

    655Sil. Seruant.
    Val. Mistris.
    Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you.
    Val. I Boy, it's for loue.
    Spee. Not of you.
    660Val. Of my Mistresse then.
    Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him.
    Sil. Seruant, you are sad.
    Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so.
    Thu. Seeme you that you are not?
    665Val. Hap'ly I doe.
    Thu. So doe Counterfeyts.
    Val. So doe you.
    Thu. What seeme I that I am not?
    Val. Wise.
    670Thu. What instance of the contrary?
    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.
    Val. You haue said Sir.
    Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time.
    Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin.
    Sil. A fine volly of words, gentlemē, & quickly shot off
    685Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer.
    Sil. Who is that Seruant?
    Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire,
    Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,
    And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company.
    690Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
    make your wit bankrupt.
    Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of (words,
    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.
    Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset.
    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,
    To any happy messenger from thence.
    Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?
    705Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman
    To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
    And not without desert so well reputed.
    Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?
    Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues
    710The honor, and regard of such a father.
    Duk. You know him well?
    Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie
    We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together,
    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
    Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)