Another Part of the Forest. |
|
Enter VALENTINE. |
Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! |
This shadowy desart, unfrequented woods, |
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. |
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, |
And to the nightingale's complaining notes |
Tune my distresses and record my woes. |
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, |
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, |
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall |
And leave no memory of what it was! |
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia! |
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! [Noise within. |
What halloing and what stir is this to-day? |
These are my mates, that make their wills their law, |
Have some unhappy passenger in chase. |
They love me well; yet I have much to do |
To keep them from uncivil outrages. |
Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here? [Steps aside. |
|
Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA. |
Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you— |
Though you respect not aught your servant doth— |
To hazard life and rescue you from him |
That would have forc'd your honour and your love. |
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; |
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, |
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. |
Val. [Aside.] How like a dream is this I see and hear! |
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. |
Sil. O, miserable, unhappy that I am! |
Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; |
But by my coming I have made you happy. |
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy. |
Jul. [Aside.] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. |
Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, |
I would have been a breakfast to the beast, |
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. |
O! heaven be judge how I love Valentine, |
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul, |
And full as much—for more there cannot be— |
I do detest false perjur'd Proteus. |
Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. |
Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, |
Would I not undergo for one calm look! |
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, |
When women cannot love where they're belov'd! |
Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. |
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, |
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith |
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths |
Descended into perjury to love me. |
Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two, |
And that's far worse than none: better have none |
Than plural faith which is too much by one. |
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! |
Pro. In love |
Who respects friend? |
Sil. All men but Proteus. |
Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words |
Can no way change you to a milder form, |
I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, |
And love you 'gainst the nature of love,—force ye. |
Sil. O heaven! |
Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. |
Val. [Coming forward.] Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; |
Thou friend of an ill fashion! |
Pro. Valentine! |
Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love— |
For such is a friend now—treach'rous man! |
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes: naught but mine eye |
Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say |
I have one friend alive: thou wouldst disprove me. |
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand |
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, |
I am sorry I must never trust thee more, |
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. |
The private wound is deep'st. O time most curst! |
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! |
Pro. My shame and guilt confound me. |
Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow |
Be a sufficient ransom for offence, |
I tender't here: I do as truly suffer |
As e'er I did commit. |
Val. Then, I am paid; |
And once again I do receive thee honest. |
Who by repentance is not satisfied |
Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd. |
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd: |
And, that my love may appear plain and free, |
All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. |
Jul. O me unhappy! [Swoons. |
Pro. Look to the boy. |
Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter? |
Look up; speak. |
Jul. O good sir, my master charg'd me |
To deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, |
Which out of my neglect was never done. |
Pro. Where is that ring, boy? |
Jul. Here 'tis: this is it. [Gives a ring. |
Pro. How! let me see. |
Why this is the ring I gave to Julia. |
Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir; I have mistook: |
This is the ring you sent to Silvia. [Shows another ring. |
Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? |
At my depart I gave this unto Julia. |
Jul. And Julia herself did give it me; |
And Julia herself hath brought it hither. |
Pro. How! Julia! |
Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, |
And entertain'd them deeply in her heart: |
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! |
O Proteus! let this habit make thee blush. |
Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me |
Such an immodest raiment; if shame live |
In a disguise of love. |
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, |
Women to change their shapes than men their minds. |
Pro. Than men their minds! 'tis true. O heaven! were man |
But constant, he were perfect: that one error |
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins: |
Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. |
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy |
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? |
Val. Come, come, a hand from either. |
Let me be blest to make this happy close: |
'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. |
Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish, for ever. |
Jul. And I mine. |
|
Enter Outlaws with DUKE and THURIO. |
Out. A prize! a prize! a prize! |
Val. Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke. |
Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, |
Banished Valentine. |
Duke. Sir Valentine! |
Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. |
Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; |
Come not within the measure of my wrath; |
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, |
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands; |
Take but possession of her with a touch; |
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. |
Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. |
I hold him but a fool that will endanger |
His body for a girl that loves him not: |
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. |
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou, |
To make such means for her as thou hast done, |
And leave her on such slight conditions. |
Now, by the honour of my ancestry, |
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, |
And think thee worthy of an empress' love. |
Know then, I here forget all former griefs, |
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, |
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, |
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, |
Thou art a gentleman and well deriv'd; |
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. |
Val. I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy. |
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, |
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. |
Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. |
Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal |
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities: |
Forgive them what they have committed here, |
And let them be recall'd from their exile. |
They are reformed, civil, full of good, |
And fit for great employment, worthy lord. |
Duke. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and thee: |
Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. |
Come, let us go: we will include all jars |
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. |
Val. And as we walk along, I dare be bold |
With our discourse to make your Grace to smile. |
What think you of this page, my lord? |
Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him: he blushes. |
Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy. |
Duke. What mean you by that saying? |
Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, |
That you will wonder what hath fortuned. |
Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance, but to hear |
The story of your loves discovered: |
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; |
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. [Exeunt. |
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