Speeches (Lines) for Valentine in "Two Gentlemen of Verona"
Total: 149
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Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context) |
Speech text |
1 |
I,1,2 |
Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
Even as I would when I to love begin.
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2 |
I,1,20 |
And on a love-book pray for my success?
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3 |
I,1,22 |
That's on some shallow story of deep love:
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
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4 |
I,1,26 |
'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swum the Hellespont.
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5 |
I,1,29 |
No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
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6 |
I,1,31 |
To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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7 |
I,1,39 |
So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.
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8 |
I,1,41 |
Love is your master, for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
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9 |
I,1,47 |
And writers say, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu! my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
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10 |
I,1,58 |
Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And likewise will visit thee with mine.
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11 |
I,1,64 |
As much to you at home! and so, farewell.
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12 |
II,1,401 |
Not mine; my gloves are on.
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13 |
II,1,403 |
Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
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14 |
II,1,407 |
How now, sirrah?
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15 |
II,1,409 |
Why, sir, who bade you call her?
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16 |
II,1,411 |
Well, you'll still be too forward.
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17 |
II,1,413 |
Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?
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18 |
II,1,415 |
Why, how know you that I am in love?
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19 |
II,1,431 |
Are all these things perceived in me?
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20 |
II,1,433 |
Without me? they cannot.
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21 |
II,1,440 |
But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
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22 |
II,1,442 |
Hast thou observed that? even she, I mean.
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23 |
II,1,444 |
Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet
knowest her not?
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24 |
II,1,447 |
Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.
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25 |
II,1,449 |
What dost thou know?
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26 |
II,1,451 |
I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.
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27 |
II,1,454 |
How painted? and how out of count?
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28 |
II,1,457 |
How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.
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29 |
II,1,459 |
How long hath she been deformed?
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30 |
II,1,461 |
I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I
see her beautiful.
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31 |
II,1,464 |
Why?
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32 |
II,1,469 |
What should I see then?
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33 |
II,1,473 |
Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last
morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.
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34 |
II,1,478 |
In conclusion, I stand affected to her.
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35 |
II,1,480 |
Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to
one she loves.
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36 |
II,1,483 |
I have.
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37 |
II,1,485 |
No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace!
here she comes.
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38 |
II,1,490 |
Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.
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39 |
II,1,494 |
As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in
But for my duty to your ladyship.
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40 |
II,1,499 |
Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For being ignorant to whom it goes
I writ at random, very doubtfully.
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41 |
II,1,503 |
No, madam; so it stead you, I will write
Please you command, a thousand times as much; And yet—
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42 |
II,1,510 |
What means your ladyship? do you not like it?
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43 |
II,1,514 |
Madam, they are for you.
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44 |
II,1,518 |
Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
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45 |
II,1,521 |
If it please me, madam, what then?
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46 |
II,1,533 |
How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?
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47 |
II,1,535 |
To do what?
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48 |
II,1,537 |
To whom?
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49 |
II,1,539 |
What figure?
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50 |
II,1,541 |
Why, she hath not writ to me?
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51 |
II,1,544 |
No, believe me.
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52 |
II,1,547 |
She gave me none, except an angry word.
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53 |
II,1,549 |
That's the letter I writ to her friend.
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54 |
II,1,551 |
I would it were no worse.
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55 |
II,1,559 |
I have dined.
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56 |
II,4,655 |
Mistress?
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57 |
II,4,657 |
Ay, boy, it's for love.
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58 |
II,4,659 |
Of my mistress, then.
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59 |
II,4,663 |
Indeed, madam, I seem so.
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60 |
II,4,665 |
Haply I do.
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61 |
II,4,667 |
So do you.
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62 |
II,4,669 |
Wise.
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63 |
II,4,671 |
Your folly.
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64 |
II,4,673 |
I quote it in your jerkin.
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65 |
II,4,675 |
Well, then, I'll double your folly.
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66 |
II,4,678 |
Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon.
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67 |
II,4,681 |
You have said, sir.
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68 |
II,4,683 |
I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin.
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69 |
II,4,685 |
'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.
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70 |
II,4,687 |
Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir
Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks,
and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.
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71 |
II,4,692 |
I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words,
and, I think, no other treasure to give your
followers, for it appears by their bare liveries,
that they live by your bare words.
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72 |
II,4,702 |
My lord, I will be thankful.
To any happy messenger from thence.
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73 |
II,4,705 |
Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth and worthy estimation
And not without desert so well reputed.
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74 |
II,4,709 |
Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
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75 |
II,4,712 |
I know him as myself; for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, for far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow,
He is complete in feature and in mind
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
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76 |
II,4,732 |
Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.
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77 |
II,4,738 |
This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
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78 |
II,4,743 |
Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
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79 |
II,4,746 |
Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.
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80 |
II,4,748 |
To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:
Upon a homely object Love can wink.
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81 |
II,4,753 |
Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
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82 |
II,4,757 |
Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
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83 |
II,4,762 |
Leave off discourse of disability:
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
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84 |
II,4,778 |
Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?
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85 |
II,4,780 |
And how do yours?
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86 |
II,4,782 |
How does your lady? and how thrives your love?
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87 |
II,4,785 |
Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs;
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his service no such joy on earth.
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.
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88 |
II,4,802 |
Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
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89 |
II,4,804 |
Call her divine.
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90 |
II,4,806 |
O, flatter me; for love delights in praises.
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91 |
II,4,809 |
Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
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92 |
II,4,813 |
Sweet, except not any;
Except thou wilt except against my love.
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93 |
II,4,816 |
And I will help thee to prefer her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour—
To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
And make rough winter everlastingly.
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94 |
II,4,824 |
Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing
To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone.
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95 |
II,4,828 |
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 see'st 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.
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96 |
II,4,839 |
Ay, and we are betroth'd: 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.
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97 |
II,4,851 |
Will you make haste?
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98 |
III,1,1122 |
Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.
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99 |
III,1,1126 |
The tenor of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.
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100 |
III,1,1133 |
I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?
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101 |
III,1,1150 |
What would your Grace have me to do in this?
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102 |
III,1,1159 |
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
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103 |
III,1,1163 |
A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!'
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
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104 |
III,1,1180 |
Why, then, I would resort to her by night.
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105 |
III,1,1183 |
What lets but one may enter at her window?
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106 |
III,1,1187 |
Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.
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107 |
III,1,1193 |
When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.
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108 |
III,1,1196 |
By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
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109 |
III,1,1199 |
It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length.
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110 |
III,1,1202 |
Ay, my good lord.
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111 |
III,1,1205 |
Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
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112 |
III,1,1243 |
And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.
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113 |
III,1,1268 |
No.
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114 |
III,1,1270 |
Neither.
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115 |
III,1,1272 |
Nothing.
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116 |
III,1,1279 |
My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news,
So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
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117 |
III,1,1283 |
Is Silvia dead?
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118 |
III,1,1285 |
No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia.
Hath she forsworn me?
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119 |
III,1,1288 |
No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.
What is your news?
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120 |
III,1,1293 |
O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?
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121 |
III,1,1311 |
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 dolour.
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122 |
III,1,1331 |
I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.
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123 |
III,1,1334 |
O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!
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124 |
IV,1,1560 |
My friends,—
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125 |
IV,1,1564 |
Then know that I have little wealth to lose:
A man I am cross'd with adversity;
My riches are these poor habiliments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.
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126 |
IV,1,1570 |
To Verona.
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127 |
IV,1,1572 |
From Milan.
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128 |
IV,1,1574 |
Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
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129 |
IV,1,1577 |
I was.
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130 |
IV,1,1579 |
For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage or base treachery.
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131 |
IV,1,1585 |
I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
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132 |
IV,1,1587 |
My youthful travel therein made me happy,
Or else I often had been miserable.
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133 |
IV,1,1593 |
Peace, villain!
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134 |
IV,1,1595 |
Nothing but my fortune.
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135 |
IV,1,1622 |
I take your offer and will live with you,
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers.
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136 |
V,4,2149 |
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
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,
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?
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137 |
V,4,2175 |
[Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.
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138 |
V,4,2212 |
Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion!
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139 |
V,4,2215 |
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 own 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 accurst,
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
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140 |
V,4,2231 |
Then I am paid;
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased:
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
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141 |
V,4,2241 |
Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter?
Look up; speak.
|
142 |
V,4,2272 |
Come, come, a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close;
'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.
|
143 |
V,4,2279 |
Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke.
Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced,
Banished Valentine.
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144 |
V,4,2284 |
Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
Come not within the measure of my wrath;
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands;
Take but possession of her with a touch:
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
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145 |
V,4,2306 |
I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boom that I shall ask of you.
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146 |
V,4,2310 |
These banish'd men that I have kept withal
Are men endued with worthy qualities:
Forgive them what they have committed here
And let them be recall'd from their exile:
They are reformed, civil, full of good
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
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147 |
V,4,2320 |
And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
With our discourse to make your grace to smile.
What think you of this page, my lord?
|
148 |
V,4,2324 |
I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.
|
149 |
V,4,2326 |
Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned.
Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance but to hear
The story of your loves discovered:
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
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