Wilt thou go?To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;And even that power which gave me first my oath.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!And he wants wit that wants resolved will.To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! why, wag!
'Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both.As he in penance wander'd through the forest;Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she.But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it;At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not;These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse.That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled:Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.That flies her fortune when it follows her.I'll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour,And I will follow, more for Silvia's love.Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.And I will follow, more to cross that love.Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love.Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.Where is the gentleman that was with her?Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled;Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave:I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:And to the nightingale's complaining notes.Leave not the mansion so long tenantless.Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!What halloing and what stir is this to-day?These are my mates, that make their wills their law.Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here?Though you respect not aught your servant doth.That would have forced your honour and your love;Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you.Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.Since his exile she hath despised me most,Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat.Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.A little time will melt her frozen thoughts.A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee--,For thou hast shown some sign of good desert--,Thou know'st how willingly I would effect.The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter.She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.The love of Valentine and love Sir Thurio?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.Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken.And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do:Where your good word cannot advantage him,You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it.By ought that I can speak in his dispraise.But say this weed her love from Valentine.It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.Therefore, as you unwind her love from him.Lest it should ravel and be good to none,Which must be done by praising me as much.And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind.And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.Where you with Silvia may confer at large;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.But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes.Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.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.For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews.Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones.Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.Visit by night your lady's chamber-window,With some sweet concert; to their instruments,Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence.Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.This discipline shows thou hast been in love.And thy advice this night I'll put in practise.Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver.To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.We'll wait upon your grace till after supper.If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye:If not: we'll make you sit and rifle you.Sir, we are undone; these are the villains.Ay, by my beard, will we, for he's a proper man.Then know that I have little wealth to lose:Of which if you should here disfurnish me.You take the sum and substance that I have.Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd.For that which now torments me to rehearse:I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so.But were you banish'd for so small a fault?My youthful travel therein made me happy.By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar.This fellow were a king for our wild faction!Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery.Tell us this: have you any thing to take to?Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen.Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.And I for such like petty crimes as these.But to the purpose--for we cite our faults.That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives;Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:What say'st thou? (“Two Gentlemen of Verona” Poster Image, as always, lovingly stolen from Theatre Calgary. Come, Sir Thurio.Go with me. says another: 'Whip him.out' says the third: 'Hang him up' says the duke.I, having been acquainted with the smell before,knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that,whips the dogs: 'Friend,' quoth I, 'you mean to whip,the dog?' I pray you, be my mean.To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.What would you with her, if that I be she?If you be she, I do entreat your patience.To hear me speak the message I am sent on.Go give your master this: tell him from me.One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget.Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.I will not look upon your master's lines:I know they are stuff'd with protestations,And full of new-found oaths; which he will break.The more shame for him that he sends it me;For I have heard him say a thousand times.Though his false finger have profaned the ring.Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.Poor gentlewoman!
[Aside] O excellent motion!
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