Act 2, Scene 1

Original Text

SCENE I. Milan. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Valentine and Speed.

Modern English

Scene 1. Milan. A room in the Duke's palace. Valentine and Speed enter.

Original Text

SPEED. Sir, your glove. VALENTINE. Not mine. My gloves are on. SPEED. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.

Modern English

SPEED. Sir, your glove. VALENTINE. Not mine — I'm wearing my gloves. SPEED. Well, that's why it might be yours. There's only one here.

Original Text

VALENTINE. Ha? Let me see. Ay, give it me, it's mine. Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Modern English

VALENTINE. What? Let me see. Oh — yes, give it here, it's mine. What a lovely thing, fit for a goddess! Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Original Text

SPEED. [_Calling_.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! VALENTINE. How now, sirrah? SPEED. She is not within hearing, sir. VALENTINE. Why, sir, who bade you call her? SPEED. Your worship, sir, or else I mistook. VALENTINE. Well, you'll still be too forward. SPEED. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.

Modern English

SPEED. [_Calling out._] Lady Silvia! Lady Silvia! VALENTINE. What are you doing? SPEED. She's not close enough to hear, sir. VALENTINE. And who told you to call her? SPEED. I thought you did, sir — or else I misread you. VALENTINE. Well, you're always jumping ahead of yourself. SPEED. And yet last time I was scolded for being too slow.

Original Text

VALENTINE. Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? SPEED. She that your worship loves? VALENTINE. Why, how know you that I am in love?

Modern English

VALENTINE. All right, enough. Tell me — do you know Lady Silvia? SPEED. The one you're in love with? VALENTINE. How do you know I'm in love?

Original Text

SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money. And now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Modern English

SPEED. Oh, it's easy enough to spot. For starters, you've started folding your arms and brooding, just like Sir Proteus does. You listen to love songs with this soppy look on your face, like a robin. You wander about alone as if you've got the plague. You sigh like a schoolboy who's lost his homework. You cry like a girl at a grandmother's funeral. You've stopped eating — like someone on a strict diet. You stay up all night — like someone afraid of getting robbed. And you speak in this mopey, wheedling way, like a beggar on All Hallows' Eve. You used to laugh like a rooster. You used to walk like a lion. You used to fast — right after a full dinner. And when you looked sad, it was because you were short on money. Now you're so completely transformed by love that when I look at you, I can barely recognize my own master.

Original Text

VALENTINE. Are all these things perceived in me? SPEED. They are all perceived without ye. VALENTINE. Without me? They cannot.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Do all those things really show in me? SPEED. They show without you. VALENTINE. Without me? They can't.

Original Text

SPEED. Without you? Nay, that's certain, for without you were so simple, none else would. But you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady.

Modern English

SPEED. Without you? Oh, certainly — because without you being so foolish, none of them would. But you're so utterly beyond these follies that they've gone inside you and shine right through you, like liquid in a glass flask. Every eye that falls on you can diagnose your condition at a glance.

Original Text

VALENTINE. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? SPEED. She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper? VALENTINE. Hast thou observed that? Even she I mean. SPEED. Why, sir, I know her not. VALENTINE. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? SPEED. Is she not hard-favoured, sir?

Modern English

VALENTINE. But tell me — do you know my Lady Silvia? SPEED. The one you stare at all through supper? VALENTINE. You've noticed that? Yes, that's the one. SPEED. Honestly, sir — I don't know her at all. VALENTINE. You know her by the way I stare at her, and yet you don't know her? SPEED. Is she not plain-looking, sir?

Original Text

VALENTINE. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough. VALENTINE. What dost thou know? SPEED. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Not so much fair, boy, as well-favoured. SPEED. Oh, I know that well enough. VALENTINE. What do you know? SPEED. That she's not as pretty as she is well-thought-of — by you.

Original Text

VALENTINE. I mean that her beauty is exquisite but her favour infinite. SPEED. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count. VALENTINE. How painted? And how out of count? SPEED. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.

Modern English

VALENTINE. What I mean is that her beauty is exquisite, but her grace is beyond measure. SPEED. That's because the first is painted on, and the second has no ceiling. VALENTINE. What do you mean, painted on? And no ceiling? SPEED. Why, so painted up to look beautiful that no one counts it as real beauty anymore.

Original Text

VALENTINE. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty. SPEED. You never saw her since she was deformed. VALENTINE. How long hath she been deformed? SPEED. Ever since you loved her. VALENTINE. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still I see her beautiful. SPEED. If you love her, you cannot see her. VALENTINE. Why?

Modern English

VALENTINE. What do you take me for? I think her beautiful. SPEED. You haven't seen her clearly since she was ruined. VALENTINE. When was she ruined? SPEED. The moment you fell in love with her. VALENTINE. I've loved her from the first time I saw her, and I still see her as beautiful. SPEED. If you love her, you can't see her. VALENTINE. Why not?

Original Text

SPEED. Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes, or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered! VALENTINE. What should I see then? SPEED. Your own present folly and her passing deformity; for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

Modern English

SPEED. Because Love is blind. Oh, if only you had my eyes — or your own eyes back, the sharp ones you had when you scolded Sir Proteus for going about with his stockings falling down! VALENTINE. And what would I see then? SPEED. Your own foolishness, for one thing — and her ordinary looks, for another. He, being in love, couldn't see well enough to pull up his stockings. You, being in love, can't see well enough to put yours on at all.

Original Text

VALENTINE. Belike, boy, then you are in love, for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. SPEED. True, sir, I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Then I suppose you must be in love too, boy — because just this morning you couldn't see well enough to polish my shoes. SPEED. That's true, sir — I was in love with my bed. And thank you for beating me for it. That makes me all the bolder to scold you for yours.

Original Text

VALENTINE. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. SPEED. I would you were set, so your affection would cease. VALENTINE. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. SPEED. And have you? VALENTINE. I have. SPEED. Are they not lamely writ? VALENTINE. No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace, here she comes.

Modern English

VALENTINE. The long and short of it is — I'm in love with her. SPEED. I wish you were in a chair, then — at least your feelings might settle down. VALENTINE. Last night she asked me to write a letter for someone she loves. SPEED. And did you? VALENTINE. I did. SPEED. Is it badly written? VALENTINE. No, boy — as well as I could manage. Quiet — here she comes.

Original Text

Enter Silvia. SPEED. [_Aside_.] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her. VALENTINE. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows. SPEED. [_Aside_.] O, give ye good e'en! Here's a million of manners. SILVIA. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. SPEED. [_Aside_.] He should give her interest, and she gives it him.

Modern English

Silvia enters. SPEED. [_Aside._] What a performance! What a puppet show! And now my master's going to put on his act for her. VALENTINE. My lady and mistress — a thousand good mornings to you. SPEED. [_Aside._] Oh, and a good evening too! A million pleasantries! SILVIA. Sir Valentine — and servant — two thousand back to you both. SPEED. [_Aside._] He gives her a greeting and she doubles it right back at him.

Original Text

VALENTINE. As you enjoined 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. [_Gives her a letter._]

Modern English

VALENTINE. As you instructed me, I've written the letter To that secret, unnamed friend of yours. I went ahead with it, though I had my reservations — Only my duty to you, my lady, persuaded me. [_He hands her the letter._]

Original Text

SILVIA. I thank you, gentle servant, 'tis very clerkly done. VALENTINE. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off, For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Modern English

SILVIA. Thank you, dear servant — it's very neatly done. VALENTINE. Honestly, my lady, it didn't come easily. Not knowing who it was going to, I had to write more or less in the dark.

Original Text

SILVIA. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? VALENTINE. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much. And yet— SILVIA. A pretty period. Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it. And yet I care not. And yet take this again. [_Offers him the letter._] And yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. SPEED. [_Aside_.] And yet you will; and yet another "yet".

Modern English

SILVIA. Perhaps you think you've gone to too much trouble? VALENTINE. Not at all, my lady. If it serves you, I'd write A thousand more, whenever you command it. And yet— SILVIA. A fine ending. I can guess what comes next. And yet I won't say it aloud. And yet I don't much care. And yet take this back. [_She holds out the letter to him._] And yet, thank you — I mean not to burden you with this any further. SPEED. [_Aside._] And yet she will. There it is — another "yet."

Original Text

VALENTINE. What means your ladyship? Do you not like it? SILVIA. Yes, yes, the lines are very quaintly writ, But, since unwillingly, take them again. Nay, take them. [_Offers the letter again._] VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you.

Modern English

VALENTINE. What does this mean, my lady? Don't you like it? SILVIA. Yes, yes, the writing is very fine and clever. But since it was written reluctantly, take it back. Go on — take it. [_She holds it out again._] VALENTINE. My lady, it was written for you.

Original Text

SILVIA. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request, But I will none of them. They are for you. I would have had them writ more movingly. VALENTINE. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. SILVIA. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over, And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. VALENTINE. If it please me, madam? What then? SILVIA. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour. And so good morrow, servant. [_Exit._]

Modern English

SILVIA. Yes, yes — you wrote it at my request. But I want none of it. It's for you. I would have liked it written with more feeling. VALENTINE. If you wish, I'll write you another, my lady. SILVIA. When it's done, read it over yourself, for my sake. If you like it, good. If not — well, that's that. VALENTINE. If I like it, my lady? And then what? SILVIA. Why, if you like it, keep it as your reward. Good morning, servant. [_She exits._]

Original Text

SPEED. [_Aside_.] O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. O excellent device! Was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Modern English

SPEED. [_Aside._] Oh, what a joke — hidden in plain sight, invisible, Like the nose on a man's face or the weathervane on a church steeple! My master courts her, and she has turned her suitor, Who was her student, into her teacher. What a brilliant scheme! Was there ever a better one? That the scribe himself should be the one who gets the letter!

Original Text

VALENTINE. How now, sir? What are you reasoning with yourself? SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming. 'Tis you that have the reason. VALENTINE. To do what? SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia. VALENTINE. To whom? SPEED. To yourself. Why, she woos you by a figure. VALENTINE. What figure? SPEED. By a letter, I should say. VALENTINE. Why, she hath not writ to me.

Modern English

VALENTINE. Well, now — what are you muttering to yourself about? SPEED. I wasn't muttering, sir — I was rhyming. You're the one with something to reason out. VALENTINE. To do what? SPEED. To serve as Lady Silvia's messenger. VALENTINE. To whom? SPEED. To yourself. She's courting you — by a device. VALENTINE. What device? SPEED. By a letter, I'd say. VALENTINE. But she hasn't written to me.

Original Text

SPEED. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? VALENTINE. No, believe me. SPEED. No believing you indeed, sir. But did you perceive her earnest? VALENTINE. She gave me none, except an angry word. SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter. VALENTINE. That's the letter I writ to her friend. SPEED. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. VALENTINE. I would it were no worse.

Modern English

SPEED. Why would she need to, when she's made you write to yourself? Don't you see the joke? VALENTINE. Honestly, no. SPEED. I believe that, sir — I truly do. But did you at least catch her seriousness in it? VALENTINE. She gave me nothing but a sharp word. SPEED. Oh, but she gave you a letter. VALENTINE. That's the letter I wrote for her friend. SPEED. And she's delivered it to you — end of story. VALENTINE. I only hope there's nothing worse to it than that.

Original Text

SPEED. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well. For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply, Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse you, sir? 'Tis dinner time. VALENTINE. I have dined.

Modern English

SPEED. I'll guarantee it's all perfectly well. She's often wanted to write back to you, but out of modesty — Or for lack of spare time, she couldn't reply — Or perhaps she feared a messenger might betray her heart to others — So she taught the man she loves to write his own love letter. I know all this as surely as if I'd read it in a book. But why are you standing there daydreaming, sir? It's dinnertime. VALENTINE. I've already eaten.

Original Text

SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir, though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress! Be moved, be moved. [_Exeunt._]

Modern English

SPEED. Right, but listen — while Love the chameleon can live on air, I'm a creature that runs on actual food, and I'd very much like some. Please, sir — don't take after your mistress! Get moving, get moving. [_They exit._]

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Act 2, Scene 1

Act 2, Scene 1