The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
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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 hang’d for’t; sure as I live, he had suffer’d 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 stock 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 think’st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you serv’d 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 in boy’s clothes.]
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 marketplace; 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. Stayest thou to vex me here?
A slave that still an end turns me to shame!
[Exit LAUNCE.]
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 behaviour,
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 lov’d me well deliver’d it to me.
JULIA.
It seems you lov’d not her, to leave her token.
She’s 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 lov’d you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia.
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!’
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 refus’d,
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais’d.
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.