SCENE IV. The same. Two Gentlemen of Verona  Shakespeare homepage  |  Two Gentlemen of Verona  | Act 4, Scene 4 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE IV. The same. 

 Enter LAUNCE, with his his Dog  LAUNCE  When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, 

 look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a 

 puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or 

 four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. 

 I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, 

 'thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver 

 him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; 

 and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he 

 steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg: 

 O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself 

 in all companies! I would have, as one should say, 

 one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, 

 as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had 

 more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, 

 I think verily he had been hanged for't; sure as I 

 live, he had suffered for't; you shall judge. He 

 thrusts me himself into the company of three or four 

 gentlemanlike dogs under the duke's table: he had 

 not been there--bless the mark!--a pissing while, but 

 all the chamber smelt him. 'Out with the dog!' says 

 one: 'What cur is that?' 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?' 'Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. 'You do him 

 the more wrong,' quoth I; ''twas I did the thing you 

 wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out 

 of the chamber. How many masters would do this for 

 his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the 

 stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had 

 been executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese 

 he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't. 

 Thou thinkest not of this now. Nay, I remember the 

 trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam 

 Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I 

 do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg and make 

 water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst 

 thou ever see me do such a trick? 



 Enter PROTEUS and JULIA  PROTEUS  Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well 

 And will employ thee in some service presently. 

 JULIA  In what you please: I'll do what I can. 

 PROTEUS  I hope thou wilt. 



 To LAUNCE  How now, you whoreson peasant! 

 Where have you been these two days loitering? 

 LAUNCE  Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. 

 PROTEUS  And what says she to my little jewel? 

 LAUNCE  Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you 

 currish thanks is good enough for such a present. 

 PROTEUS  But she received my dog? 

 LAUNCE  No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him 

 back again. 

 PROTEUS  What, didst thou offer her this from me? 

 LAUNCE  Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by 

 the hangman 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. 

 PROTEUS  Go get thee hence, and find my dog again, 

 Or ne'er return again into my sight. 

 Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here? 



 Exit LAUNCE  A slave, that still an end turns me to shame! 

 Sebastian, I have entertained 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 Silvia: 

 She loved me well deliver'd it to me. 

 JULIA  It seems you loved not her, to leave her token. 

 She is dead, belike? 

 PROTEUS  Not so; I think she lives. 

 JULIA  Alas! 

 PROTEUS  Why dost thou cry 'alas'? 

 JULIA  I cannot choose 

 But pity her. 

 PROTEUS  Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? 

 JULIA  Because methinks that she loved you as well 

 As you do love your lady Silvia: 

 She dreams of 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 of it makes me cry 'alas!' 

 PROTEUS  Well, give her that ring and therewithal 

 This letter. 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. 



 Exit  JULIA  How many women would do such a message? 

 Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd 

 A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. 

 Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him 

 That with his very heart despiseth me? 

 Because he loves her, he despiseth me; 

 Because I love him I must pity him. 

 This ring I gave him when he parted from me, 

 To bind him to remember my good will; 

 And now am I, unhappy messenger, 

 To plead for that which I would not obtain, 

 To carry that which I would have refused, 

 To praise his faith which I would have dispraised. 

 I am my master's true-confirmed love; 

 But cannot be true servant to my master, 

 Unless I prove false traitor to myself. 

 Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly 

 As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. 



 Enter SILVIA, attended  Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean 

 To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. 

 SILVIA  What would you with her, if that I be she? 

 JULIA  If you be she, I do entreat your patience 

 To hear me speak the message I am sent on. 

 SILVIA  From whom? 

 JULIA  From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. 

 SILVIA  O, he sends you for a picture. 

 JULIA  Ay, madam. 

 SILVIA  Ursula, bring my picture here. 

 Go give your master this: tell him from me, 

 One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, 

 Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. 

 JULIA  Madam, please you peruse this letter.-- 

 Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised 

 Deliver'd you a paper that I should not: 

 This is the letter to your ladyship. 

 SILVIA  I pray thee, let me look on that again. 

 JULIA  It may not be; good madam, pardon me. 

 SILVIA  There, hold! 

 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 

 As easily as I do tear his paper. 

 JULIA  Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. 

 SILVIA  The more shame for him that he sends it me; 

 For I have heard him say a thousand times 

 His Julia gave it him at his departure. 

 Though his false finger have profaned the ring, 

 Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 

 JULIA  She thanks you. 

 SILVIA  What say'st thou? 

 JULIA  I thank you, madam, that you tender her. 

 Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. 

 SILVIA  Dost thou know her? 

 JULIA  Almost as well as I do know myself: 

 To think upon her woes I do protest 

 That I have wept a hundred several times. 

 SILVIA  Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. 

 JULIA  I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow. 

 SILVIA  Is she not passing fair? 

 JULIA  She hath been fairer, madam, than she is: 

 When she did think my master loved her well, 

 She, in my judgment, was as fair as you: 

 But since she did neglect her looking-glass 

 And threw her sun-expelling mask away, 

 The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks 

 And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, 

 That now she is become as black as I. 

 SILVIA  How tall was she? 

 JULIA  About my stature; for at Pentecost, 

 When all our pageants of delight were play'd, 

 Our youth got me to play the woman's part, 

 And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, 

 Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, 

 As if the garment had been made for me: 

 Therefore I know she is about my height. 

 And at that time I made her weep agood, 

 For I did play a lamentable part: 

 Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning 

 For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight; 

 Which I so lively acted with my tears 

 That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, 

 Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead 

 If I in thought felt not her very sorrow! 

 SILVIA  She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. 

 Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! 

 I weep myself to think upon thy words. 

 Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this 

 For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lovest her. 

 Farewell. 



 Exit SILVIA, with attendants  JULIA  And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. 

 A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful 

 I hope my master's suit will be but cold, 

 Since she respects my mistress' love so much. 

 Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 

 Here is her picture: let me see; I think, 

 If I had such a tire, this face of mine 

 Were full as lovely as is this of hers: 

 And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 

 Unless I flatter with myself too much. 

 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: 

 If that be all the difference in his love, 

 I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. 

 Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine: 

 Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high. 

 What should it be that he respects in her 

 But I can make respective in myself, 

 If this fond Love were not a blinded god? 

 Come, shadow, come and take this shadow up, 

 For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, 

 Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, loved and adored! 

 And, were there sense in his idolatry, 

 My substance should be statue in thy stead. 

 I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, 

 That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, 

 I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes 

 To make my master out of love with thee! 



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