Act 1, Scene 1

Original Text

SCENE I. Verona. An open place. Enter Valentine and Proteus.

Modern English

Scene 1. Verona. An open street. Valentine and Proteus enter.

Original Text

VALENTINE. 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 honoured 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 lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, Even as I would when I to love begin.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Stop trying to talk me out of it, Proteus. Boys who stay home all their lives stay small-minded. If it weren't for love keeping you here — Chained to the sweet looks of the girl you worship — I'd be begging you to come with me And see what the wide world has to offer, Instead of letting you rot away at home, Wasting your best years doing nothing. But since love has you, stay in love, and make it count — The way I hope to, when my turn comes.

Original Text

PROTEUS. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus when thou haply seest Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel. Wish me partaker in thy happiness When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger, If ever danger do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Modern English

PROTEUS. You're really leaving? Sweet Valentine, goodbye. Think of your Proteus when you happen to see Something rare and remarkable in your travels. When fortune smiles on you, wish me a share of it. And if you ever find yourself in danger — If danger ever does find you — Bring your troubles to my prayers, For I'll be your faithful intercessor, Valentine.

Original Text

VALENTINE. And on a love-book pray for my success? PROTEUS. Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee. VALENTINE. That's on some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander crossed the Hellespont. PROTEUS. That's a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over shoes in love.

Modern English

VALENTINE. And you'll pray for me on a love story? PROTEUS. On a book I love, I'll pray for you. VALENTINE. Some shallow tale of deep passion, then — Like young Leander swimming the Hellespont. PROTEUS. That's a deep story of a deeper love — The man was more than ankle-deep in it.

Original Text

VALENTINE. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. PROTEUS. Over the boots? Nay, give me not the boots. VALENTINE. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. PROTEUS. What?

Modern English

VALENTINE. True enough — you're in over your boots yourself, And you've never even swum the Hellespont. PROTEUS. Over the boots? Don't give me the boot, now. VALENTINE. I won't — it wouldn't do you any good anyway. PROTEUS. What do you mean?

Original Text

VALENTINE. 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.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Being in love — where every glance costs you a groan, Every coy look buys a heartsick sigh, one moment's joy Paid for with twenty sleepless, weary, miserable nights. If you win her, maybe it's no prize at all. If you lose her, all that suffering for nothing. Either way, it's foolishness bought with your best wit — Or your best wit made a fool of by love.

Original Text

PROTEUS. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. VALENTINE. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove. PROTEUS. 'Tis love you cavil at. I am not Love. VALENTINE. Love is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.

Modern English

PROTEUS. So what you're saying, in your roundabout way, is that I'm a fool. VALENTINE. What I'm saying is I'm afraid you'll prove it. PROTEUS. It's love you're mocking. I'm not Love itself. VALENTINE. Love is your master — he has you completely under his thumb. And a man who lets himself be ruled by a fool Doesn't deserve to be called wise, if you ask me.

Original Text

PROTEUS. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. VALENTINE. 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 turned to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.

Modern English

PROTEUS. And yet the poets say that just as a canker worm Lives in the sweetest bud, so love Makes its home in the finest minds of all. VALENTINE. And the poets also say that just as the most promising bud Gets eaten by the canker before it can bloom, So love devours the young and gifted mind, Turning it to foolishness before it can flower, Draining its freshness while it's still in its prime, And killing every bright hope it might have grown into.

Original Text

VALENTINE. 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 shipped. PROTEUS. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. VALENTINE. 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 I likewise will visit thee with mine.

Modern English

VALENTINE. But why am I wasting time lecturing you When you're already a devoted slave to desire? Goodbye, one last time. My father's at the harbor, Waiting to see me off onto the ship. PROTEUS. Then I'll walk you there, Valentine. VALENTINE. No, dear Proteus. Let's say goodbye here. Write to me in Milan — tell me How things go with your love, and whatever else Has happened here while your friend is away. I'll do the same for you.

Original Text

PROTEUS. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan. VALENTINE. As much to you at home, and so farewell. [_Exit._]

Modern English

PROTEUS. May every happiness find you in Milan. VALENTINE. And the same to you here at home. Farewell. [_He exits._]

Original Text

PROTEUS. He after honour hunts, I after love. He leaves his friends to dignify them more; I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.

Modern English

PROTEUS. He goes chasing honor; I go chasing love. He leaves his friends to do right by them. I leave myself, my friends, everything — all for love. Julia, it's you — you've made me into someone else. You've made me neglect my studies, throw away my time, Fight against every piece of good sense, care nothing for the world. My mind worn down by dreaming, my heart worn out by thinking.

Original Text

Enter Speed. SPEED. Sir Proteus, 'save you. Saw you my master? PROTEUS. But now he parted hence to embark for Milan. SPEED. Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already, And I have played the sheep in losing him. PROTEUS. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be a while away.

Modern English

Speed enters. SPEED. God save you, Sir Proteus. Have you seen my master? PROTEUS. He just left to take ship for Milan. SPEED. Twenty to one he's already sailed, then, And I've been a proper sheep to let him slip away. PROTEUS. Well, a sheep does tend to wander When the shepherd steps away for a bit.

Original Text

SPEED. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and I a sheep? PROTEUS. I do. SPEED. Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. PROTEUS. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. SPEED. This proves me still a sheep. PROTEUS. True, and thy master a shepherd.

Modern English

SPEED. So you're saying my master is a shepherd and I'm a sheep? PROTEUS. That's right. SPEED. Then his troubles are my troubles, sleeping or waking. PROTEUS. A silly answer — which rather proves the sheep part. SPEED. That proves I'm a sheep still. PROTEUS. True, and your master a shepherd.

Original Text

SPEED. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. PROTEUS. It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another. SPEED. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. Therefore I am no sheep. PROTEUS. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the shepherd for food follows not the sheep. Thou for wages followest thy master; thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore thou art a sheep. SPEED. Such another proof will make me cry "baa".

Modern English

SPEED. I can disprove that with one argument. PROTEUS. I'll find another to match it. SPEED. A shepherd looks for his sheep — the sheep doesn't look for the shepherd. I'm looking for my master, but my master isn't looking for me. So I'm no sheep. PROTEUS. Sheep follow the shepherd for food — the shepherd doesn't follow the sheep for food. You follow your master for wages — your master doesn't follow you for wages. So you are a sheep. SPEED. One more argument like that and I'll start saying "baa."

Original Text

PROTEUS. But dost thou hear? Gav'st thou my letter to Julia? SPEED. Ay, sir. I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. PROTEUS. Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons. SPEED. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. PROTEUS. Nay, in that you are astray; 'twere best pound you. SPEED. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter. PROTEUS. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold. SPEED. From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over, 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

Modern English

PROTEUS. Never mind all that — did you deliver my letter to Julia? SPEED. Yes, sir. I, a stray mutton, delivered your letter to her, a fine mutton, and she, a fine mutton, gave me, a stray mutton, absolutely nothing for my trouble. PROTEUS. That's too much talk of mutton for so small a field. SPEED. If the pasture's overstocked, best slaughter one. PROTEUS. You're off the mark — I'd sooner impound you. SPEED. A pound? Frankly, less than a pound is fair pay for carrying your letter. PROTEUS. You misunderstand — I mean a pound, as in a pen for stray animals. SPEED. From a pound to a pin? Fold that over and over — It's nowhere near enough for carrying a letter to your lover.

Original Text

PROTEUS. But what said she? SPEED. [_Nods his head_.] Ay. PROTEUS. Nod—"Ay". Why, that's "noddy". SPEED. You mistook, sir. I say she did nod, and you ask me if she did nod; and I say "Ay". PROTEUS. And that set together is "noddy". SPEED. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains. PROTEUS. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. SPEED. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.

Modern English

PROTEUS. But what did she say? SPEED. [_Nods his head._] Aye. PROTEUS. A nod and an "aye" — that makes "noddy." SPEED. You've got it wrong, sir. I'm saying she nodded, and you asked if she nodded, and I say "aye." PROTEUS. Put them together and it's still "noddy." SPEED. Well, since you've gone to all that trouble to put it together, you can keep it for your trouble. PROTEUS. No, no — you're to have it for carrying the letter. SPEED. Then I suppose I'll have to put up with you.

Original Text

PROTEUS. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? SPEED. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly, having nothing but the word "noddy" for my pains. PROTEUS. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. SPEED. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. PROTEUS. Come, come, open the matter; in brief, what said she? SPEED. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered.

Modern English

PROTEUS. What do you mean, put up with me? SPEED. Why, the letter, sir — I carried it properly and all, and all I've got to show for it is the word "noddy." PROTEUS. Curse me, but you've got a sharp tongue. SPEED. Sharp enough — but it can't catch up with your slow purse. PROTEUS. Enough, enough — just tell me: what did she say? SPEED. Open your purse, and the money and the answer can be delivered at the same time.

Original Text

PROTEUS. [_Giving him a coin_.] Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she? SPEED. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. PROTEUS. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her? SPEED. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter. And being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steel.

Modern English

PROTEUS. [_Pressing a coin into his hand._] There, sir — something for your trouble. Now what did she say? SPEED. Honestly, sir, I don't think you're going to win her. PROTEUS. Why? Could you tell that much from her? SPEED. Sir, I couldn't tell anything at all from her — not so much as a coin for delivering your letter. And since she was so cold to me, the man who carried your message, I'm afraid she'll be just as cold to you when you try to deliver it yourself. Give her rocks as a gift — she's hard as steel.

Original Text

PROTEUS. What said she, nothing? SPEED. No, not so much as "Take this for thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Modern English

PROTEUS. She said nothing? SPEED. Not so much as "thank you for your trouble." To prove how generous you are, sir — thank you, you've given me a tester; and in return, from now on carry your own letters. And with that, sir, I'll send your regards to my master.

Original Text

PROTEUS. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wrack, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, Being destined to a drier death on shore. [_Exit Speed._] I must go send some better messenger. I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post. [_Exit._]

Modern English

PROTEUS. Go on, get out — before your ship sinks. Though it can't sink with you on board, Seeing as you're already destined to die dry on land. [_Speed exits._] I'll have to find a better messenger. I'm afraid Julia would never stoop to read my lines If they came from such a useless errand-boy. [_Exit._]

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Act 1, Scene 1

Act 1, Scene 1