Proteus Lines

Act 1 Scene 3

Enter

Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life!

Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honor's pawn. O, that our fathers would applaud our loves To seal our happiness with their consents.

O heavenly Julia!

How now? What letter are you reading there?

May 't please your Lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendations sent from Valentine, Delivered by a friend that came from him.

Lend me the letter. Let me see what news.

There is no news, my lord, but that he writes

How happily he lives, how well beloved And daily gracèd by the Emperor,

Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.

And how stand you affected to his wish?

As one relying on your Lordship's will, And not depending on his friendly wish.

My will is something sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed, For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the Emperor's court. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. Tomorrow be in readiness to go. Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

My lord, I cannot be so soon provided. Please you deliberate a day or two.

Look what thou want'st shall be sent after thee. No more of stay. Tomorrow thou must go.

Thus have I shunned the fire for fear of burning

And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned.

I feared to show my father Julia's letter

Lest he should take exceptions to my love, And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love.

O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day,

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away.

Act 2 Scene 2

Have patience, gentle Julia.

I must where is no remedy.

When possibly I can, I will return.

If you turn not, you will return the sooner. Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.

Why, then we'll make exchange. Here, take you this.

And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

Here is my hand for my true constancy.

And when that hour o'erslips me in the day Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,

The next ensuing hour some foul mischance

Torment me for my love's forgetfulness.

My father stays my coming. Answer not.

The tide is now—nay, not thy tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should. Julia, farewell.

Julia exits.

What, gone without a word?

Ay, so true love should do. It cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

Act 2 Scene 4

SYLVIA Too low a mistress for so high a servant.

Not so, sweet lady, but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Leave off discourse of disability. Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

My duty will I boast of, nothing else.

And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

I'll die on him that says so but yourself.

That you are welcome?

That you are worthless.

Go with me.—Once more, new servant, welcome. I'll leave you to confer of home affairs. When you have done, we look to hear from you.

We'll both attend upon your Ladyship.

VALENTINE Now tell me, how do all from whence you came?

Your friends are well and have them much commended.

VALENTINE And how do yours?

PROTEUS I left them all in health.

VALENTINE How does your lady? And how thrives your love?

PROTEUS My tales of love were wont to weary you. I know you joy not in a love discourse.

VALENTINE Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now. I have done penance for contemning Love,

...

Now, no discourse except it be of love. Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep Upon the very naked name of Love.

Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so?

VALENTINE Even she. And is she not a heavenly saint?

No, but she is an earthly paragon.

Call her divine.

I will not flatter her.

VALENTINE O, flatter me, for love delights in praises.

When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you.

VALENTINE Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the Earth.

Except my mistress.

VALENTINE Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love.

Have I not reason to prefer mine own?

VALENTINE And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honor— To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss And, of so great a favor growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower And make rough winter everlastingly.

Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this?

VALENTINE Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing. 46 She is alone—

Then let her alone.

Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, Because thou seest me dote upon my love. My foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along, and I must after, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

But she loves you?

Ay, and we are betrothed; nay more, our marriage hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight Determined of: how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

Go on before. I shall inquire you forth. I must unto the road to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use, And then I'll presently attend you.

VALENTINE Will you make haste?

I will.

Even as one heat another heat expels,

Or as one nail by strength drives out another,

So the remembrance of my former love

Is by a newer object quite forgotten.

Is it mine eye, or Valentine's praise,

Her true perfection, or my false transgression,

That makes me reasonless to reason thus? She is fair, and so is Julia that I love—

That I did love, for now my love is thawed, Which like a waxen image 'gainst a fire Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,

And that I love him not as I was wont.

O, but I love his lady too too much,

And that's the reason I love him so little. How shall I dote on her with more advice That thus without advice begin to love her? 'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,

And that hath dazzled my reason's light; But when I look on her perfections,

There is no reason but I shall be blind.

If I can check my erring love, I will;

If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.

Act 2 Scene 6

To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn.

To love fair Sylvia, shall I be forsworn.

To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn.

And ev'n that power which gave me first my oath

Provokes me to this threefold perjury.

Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear.

O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned,

Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.

At first I did adore a twinkling star,

But now I worship a celestial sun; Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken, And he wants wit that wants resolvèd will To learn his wit t' exchange the bad for better.

Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred

With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.

I cannot leave to love, and yet I do.

But there I leave to love where I should love.

Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose;

If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;

If I lose them, thus find I by their loss:

For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Sylvia.

I to myself am dearer than a friend,

For love is still most precious in itself.

I will forget that Julia is alive,

Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead; And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,

Aiming at Sylvia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now prove constant to myself Without some treachery used to Valentine. This night he meaneth with a corded ladder To climb celestial Sylvia's chamber window, Myself in counsel his competitor.

Now presently I'll give her father notice

Of their disguising and pretended flight, Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine,

For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter.

But Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift.

Act 3, Scene 1

DUKE Now tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?

My gracious lord, that which I would discover

The law of friendship bids me to conceal, But when I call to mind your gracious favors

Done to me, undeserving as I am,

My duty pricks me on to utter that

Which else no worldly good should draw from me.

Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine my friend

This night intends to steal away your daughter;

Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know you have determined to bestow her On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,

And should she thus be stol'n away from you,

It would be much vexation to your age. Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose

To cross my friend in his intended drift Than, by concealing it, heap on your head A pack of sorrows which would press you down,

Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

DUKE Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply when they have judged me fast asleep,And oftentimes have purposed to forbid Sir Valentine her company and my court. And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept, And thence she cannot be conveyed away.

PROTEUS Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean

How he her chamber-window will ascend And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently, Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.

But, good my lord, do it so cunningly

That my discovery be not aimèd at;

For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretense.

DUKE Upon mine honor, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this.

Adieu, my lord. Sir Valentine is coming.

LANCE So-ho, so-ho!

What seest thou?

LANCE Him we go to find. There's not a hair on 's head but 'tis a Valentine.

Valentine?

VALENTINE No.

Who then? His spirit?

VALENTINE Neither.

PROTEUS What then?

VALENTINE Nothing.

LANCE Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

Who wouldst thou strike?

LANCE Nothing.

Villain, forbear.

LANCE Why, sir, I'll strike nothing. I pray you—

PROTEUS Sirrah, I say forbear.—Friend Valentine, a word.

VALENTINE My ears are stopped and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possessed them. LANCE Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

That thou art banishèd—O, that's the news— From hence, from Sylvia, and from me thy friend.

VALENTINE O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Sylvia know that I am banishèd?

Ay, ay, and she hath offered to the doom— Which unreversed stands in effectual force—

A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears;

Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered,

With them, upon her knees, her humble self,

Wringing her hands. But neither bended knees,

Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears

Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.

VALENTINE No more, unless the next word that thou speak'st Have some malignant power upon my life. If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear As ending anthem of my endless dolor.

Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,

And study help for that which thou lament'st.

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;

Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts. The time now serves not to expostulate. Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate

And, ere I part with thee, confer at large

Of all that may concern thy love affairs.

As thou lov'st Sylvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me.

VALENTINE I pray thee, Lance, an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste and meet me at the North Gate.

PROTEUS Go, sirrah, find him out.—Come, Valentine.

Act 3 Scene 2

DUKE How now, Sir Proteus? Is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone?

Gone, my good lord.

DUKE My daughter takes his going grievously.

A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.

DUKE So I believe, but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee, For thou hast shown some sign of good desert, Makes me the better to confer with thee. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter?

I do, my lord.

DUKE And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will?

She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio?

The best way is to slander Valentine

With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent,

Three things that women highly hold in hate.

Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate.

Ay, if his enemy deliver it.

Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken

By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

DUKE Then you must undertake to slander him.

And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do.

'Tis an ill office for a gentleman,

Especially against his very friend.

Where your good word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him; Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend.

You have prevailed, my lord. If I can do it By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him.

But say this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.

THURIO Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Lest it should ravel and be good to none, You must provide to bottom it on me, Which must be done by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

DUKE And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind Because we know, on Valentine's report, You are already Love's firm votary And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access 80 Where you with Sylvia may confer at large— For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you— Where you may temper her by your persuasion To hate young Valentine and love my friend.

PROTEUS As much as I can do I will effect.— But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough. You must lay lime to tangle her desires

By wailful sonnets, whose composèd rhymes

Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.

Say that upon the altar of her beauty

You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart.

Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears

Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity.

After your dire-lamenting elegies,

Visit by night your lady's chamber window With some sweet consort; to their instruments

Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence

Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.

This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Act 4 Scene 2

PROTEUS Already have I been false to Valentine,

And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. Under the color of commending him,

I have access my own love to prefer.

But Sylvia is too fair, too true, too holy

To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;

When to her beauty I commend my vows, She bids me think how I have been forsworn In breaking faith with Julia, whom I loved;

And notwithstanding all her sudden quips, The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,

Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,

The more it grows and fawneth on her still. But here comes Thurio.

Now must we to her window

And give some evening music to her ear.

THURIO How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us?

PROTEUS Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that love

Will creep in service where it cannot go.

THURIO Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.

Sir, but I do, or else I would be hence.

Who, Sylvia?

Ay, Sylvia, for your sake.

Song

Who is Sylvia? What is she,

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heaven such grace did lend her

That she might admirèd be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness.

Love doth to her eyes repair

To help him of his blindness;

And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Sylvia let us sing,

That Sylvia is excelling;

She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling.

To her let us garlands bring.

JULIA, as Sebastian Peace. Stand aside. The company parts.

PROTEUS Sir Thurio, fear not you. I will so plead That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

THURIO Farewell.

Enter Sylvia, above.

Madam, good even to your Ladyship.

I thank you for your music, gentlemen. Who is that that spake?

One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.

Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

What's your will?

That I may compass yours.

SYLVIA You have your wish: my will is even this, That presently you hie you home to bed. Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man, Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seducèd by thy flattery, That hast deceived so many with thy vows? Return, return, and make thy love amends. For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far from granting thy request That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit And by and by intend to chide myself Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady, But she is dead.

SYLVIA Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend Survives, to whom, thyself art witness, I am betrothed. And art thou not ashamed To wrong him with thy importunacy?

I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

And so suppose am I, for in his grave, Assure thyself, my love is burièd.

Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

SYLVIA Go to thy lady's grave and call hers thence, Or, at the least, in hers sepulcher thine.

JULIA, aside He heard not that.

Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber;

To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep, For since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;

And to your shadow will I make true love.

JULIA, aside If 'twere a substance you would sure deceive it And make it but a shadow, as I am.

SYLVIA I am very loath to be your idol, sir; But since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadows and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it. And so, good rest.

Sylvia exits.

As wretches have o'ernight

That wait for execution in the morn.

Act 4 Scene 4 (Dog Scene)

After Lance Monologue, to Sebastian

Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well

And will employ thee in some service presently.

JULIA, as Sebastian In what you please. I'll do what I can.

I hope thou wilt. (To Lance.) How now, you whoreson peasant? Where have you been these two days loitering?

LANCE Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Sylvia the dog you bade me.

And what says she to my little jewel?

Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

But she received my dog?

No, indeed, did she not. Here have I brought him back again

What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Ay, sir. The other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the market-place, and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my sight.

Away, I say. Stayest thou to vex me here? Lance exits with Crab.

A knave that still an end turns me to shame.

Sebastian, I have entertainèd thee, Partly that I have need of such a youth

That can with some discretion do my business

— For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout— But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior, Which, if my augury deceive me not, Witness good bringing-up, fortune, and truth.

Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee.

Go presently, and take this ring with thee; Deliver it to Madam Sylvia. She loved me well delivered it to me.

JULIA, as Sebastian He gives her a ring.

It seems you loved not her, to leave her token. She is dead belike?

Not so; I think she lives.

JULIA, as Sebastian Alas!

Why dost thou cry "Alas"?

JULIA, as Sebastian I cannot choose but pity her.

Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

JULIA, as Sebastian Because methinks that she loved you as well As you do love your lady Sylvia. She dreams on him that has forgot her love; You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary, And thinking on it makes me cry "Alas."

Well, give her that ring and therewithal This letter.

He gives her a paper.

That's her chamber. Tell my lady

I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.

Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,

Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.

Act 5 Scene 2

THURIO Sir Proteus, what says Sylvia to my suit?

O sir, I find her milder than she was,

And yet she takes exceptions at your person.

THURIO What? That my leg is too long?

No, that it is too little.

THURIO What says she to my face?

She says it is a fair one.

Nay, then the wanton lies. How likes she my discourse?

Ill, when you talk of war.

What says she to my valor?

O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.

THURIO What says she to my birth?

That you are well derived.

Considers she my possessions?

O, ay, and pities them.

THURIO Wherefore?

JULIA, aside That such an ass should owe them.

That they are out by lease.

JULIA, as Sebastian Here comes the Duke. DUKE Enter Duke. How now, Sir Proteus?—How now, Thurio? Saw you my daughter?

PROTEUS No.

THURIO Why, this it is to be a peevish girl That flies her fortune when it follows her. I'll after, more to be revenged on Valentine Than for the love of reckless Sylvia.

And I will follow, more for Sylvia's love Than hate of Thurio that goes to her.

Act 5 Scene 4

VALENTINE

What hallowing and what stir is this today? 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?

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 forced your honor 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.

VALENTINE, aside How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

SYLVIA O miserable, unhappy that I am!

Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came,

But by my coming, I have made you happy.

SYLVIA Had I been seizèd 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 perjured Proteus. Therefore begone; solicit me no more.

What dangerous action, stood it next to death,

Would I not undergo for one calm look!

O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they're beloved.

SYLVIA When Proteus cannot love where he's beloved. 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!

In love

Who respects friend?

SYLVIA All men but Proteus.

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.

SYLVIA O, heaven!

VALENTINE, advancing Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion.

Valentine!

VALENTINE Thou common friend, that's without faith or love, For such is a friend now. Treacherous man, Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought 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 when one's right hand Is perjured 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 deepest. O, time most accursed, 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

My shame and guilt confounds me.

Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow

Be a sufficient ransom for offense,

I tender 't here. I do as truly suffer

As e'er I did commit.

VALENTINE Then I am paid, And once again I do receive thee honest. 113 Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor Earth, for these are pleased; By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeased. And that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Sylvia I give thee.

JULIA, aside

O me unhappy!

Look to the boy.

JULIA, as Sebastian O, good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Sylvia, which out of my neglect was never done.

PROTEUS Where is that ring, boy?

JULIA, as Sebastian Here 'tis; this is it.

How, let me see.

Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

JULIA, as Sebastian O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook. This is the ring you sent to Sylvia.

But how cam'st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia.