The Two Gentlemen of Verona Part 1

The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

by William Shakespeare.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Valentine: Protheus, and Speed.

Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus; Home-keeping youth, haue euer homely wits, Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes To the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue, I rather would entreat thy company, To see the wonders of the world abroad, Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home) Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse.

But since thou lou'st; loue still, and thriue therein, Euen as I would, when I to loue begin

Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew, Thinke on thy Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy trauaile.

Wish me partaker in thy happinesse, When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger, (If euer danger doe enuiron thee) Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beades-man, Valentine

Val. And on a loue-booke pray for my successe?

Pro. Vpon some booke I loue, I'le pray for thee

Val. That's on some shallow Storie of deepe loue, How yong Leander crost the h.e.l.lespont

Pro. That's a deepe Storie, of a deeper loue, For he was more then ouer-shooes in loue

Val. 'Tis true; for you are ouer-bootes in loue, And yet you neuer swom the h.e.l.lespont

Pro. Ouer the Bootes? nay giue me not the Boots

Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not

Pro. What?

Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones: Coy looks, with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth, With twenty watchfull, weary, tedious nights; If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine; If lost, why then a grieuous labour won; How euer: but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit, by folly vanquished

Pro. So, by your circ.u.mstance, you call me foole

Val. So, by your circ.u.mstance, I feare you'll proue

Pro. 'Tis Loue you cauill at, I am not Loue

Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so yoked by a foole, Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise

Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud, The eating Canker dwels; so eating Loue Inhabits in the finest wits of all

Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow, Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the Bud, Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime, And all the faire effects of future hopes.

But wherefore waste I time to counsaile thee That art a votary to fond desire?

Once more adieu: my Father at the Road Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd

Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine

Val. Sweet Protheus, no: Now let vs take our leaue: To Millaine let me heare from thee by Letters Of thy successe in loue; and what newes else Betideth here in absence of thy Friend: And I likewise will visite thee with mine

Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine

Val. As much to you at home: and so farewell.

Enter

Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue; He leaues his friends, to dignifie them more; I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue: Thou Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me: Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time; Warre with good counsaile; set the world at nought; Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with thought

Sp. Sir Protheus: 'saue you: saw you my Master?

Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain

Sp. Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already, And I haue plaid the Sheepe in loosing him

Pro. Indeede a Sheepe doth very often stray, And if the Shepheard be awhile away

Sp. You conclude that my Master is a Shepheard then, and I Sheepe?

Pro. I doe

Sp. Why then my hornes are his hornes, whether I wake or sleepe

Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe

Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe

Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard

Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circ.u.mstance

Pro. It shall goe hard but ile proue it by another

Sp. The Shepheard seekes the Sheepe, and not the Sheepe the Shepheard; but I seeke my Master, and my Master seekes not me: therefore I am no Sheepe

Pro. The Sheepe for fodder follow the Shepheard, the Shepheard for foode followes not the Sheepe: thou for wages followest thy Master, thy Master for wages followes not thee: therefore thou art a Sheepe

Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa

Pro. But do'st thou heare: gau'st thou my Letter to Iulia?

Sp. I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gaue your Letter to her (a lac'd-Mutton) and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gaue mee (a lost-Mutton) nothing for my labour

Pro. Here's too small a Pasture for such store of Muttons

Sp. If the ground be ouer-charg'd, you were best sticke her