Two Gentlemen of Verona The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols.] · William Shakespeare
SCENE VII. _Verona. JULIA'S house._
_Enter JULIA and LUCETTA._ _Jul._ Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me; And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character'd and engraved, To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, 5 How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus. _Luc._ Alas, the way is wearisome and long! _Jul._ A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; 10 Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. _Luc._ Better forbear till Proteus make return. _Jul._ O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food? 15 Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 20 _Luc._ I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. _Jul._ The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. The current that with gentle murmur glides, 25 Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; 30 And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course: I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, 35 Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
_Luc._ But in what habit will you go along? _Jul._ Not like a woman; for I would prevent 40 The loose encounters of lascivious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page. _Luc._ Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. _Jul._ No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings 45 With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. _Luc._ What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? _Jul._ That fits as well as, 'Tell me, good my lord, 50 What compass will you wear your farthingale?' Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta. _Luc._ You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. _Jul._ Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. _Luc._ A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, 55 Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. _Jul._ Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? 60 I fear me, it will make me scandalized. _Luc._ If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. _Jul._ Nay, that I will not. _Luc._ Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey when you come, 65 No matter who's displeased when you are gone: I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.
_Jul._ That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love, 70 Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. _Luc._ All these are servants to deceitful men. _Jul._ Base men, that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth: His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 75 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. _Luc._ Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him! _Jul._ Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong, 80 To bear a hard opinion of his truth: Only deserve my love by loving him; And presently go with me to my chamber, To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me upon my longing journey. 85 All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come, answer not, but to it presently! I am impatient of my tarriance. [_Exeunt._ 90 Notes: II, 7. SCENE VII.] SCENE X. Pope. 13: _perfection_] F1 F2 F4. _perfections_ F3. 18: _inly_] F1 F2. _inchly_ F3 F4. 22: _extreme_] _extremest_ Pope. 32: _wild_] _wide_ Collier MS. 47: _fantastic_] _fantantastique_ F2. 52: _likest_] Pope. _likes_ Ff. 67: _withal_] _with all_ F1 F4. _withall_ F2 F3. 70: _of infinite_] F1. _as infinite_ F2 F3 F4. _of the infinite_ Malone. 85: _longing_] _loving_ Collier MS. 89: _to it_] _do it_ Warburton.
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