Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac’d,
Banished Valentine.
Duke.
Sir Valentine!
Thu.
Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia’s mine.
Val.
Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
Come not within the measure of my wrath.
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
[Milan] shall not hold thee. Here she stands,
Take but possession of her with a touch:
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
Thu.
Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
I hold him but a fool that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not.
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
Duke.
The more degenerate and base art thou
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honor of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress’ love.
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,
Plead a new state in thy unrivall’d merit,
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman and well deriv’d,
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv’d her.
Val.
I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy.
I now beseech you (for your daughter’s sake)
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
Duke.
I grant it (for thine own) what e’er it be.
Val.
These banish’d men, that I have kept withal,
Are men endu’d 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.
Duke.
Thou hast prevail’d, I pardon them and thee;
Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts.
Come, let us go, we will include all jars
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
Val.
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?
Duke.
I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.
Val.
I warrant you, my lord—more grace than boy.
Duke.
What mean you by that saying?
Val.
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.
Exeunt.
¶
William Shakespeare
LOVE’S
LABOR’S LOST
( 1594–1595 )
Quarto, 1598; First Folio, 1623.
lost
¶
Act I
Sc. I Sc. II
Act II
Sc. I
Act III
Sc. I
Act IV
Act V
Sc. I Sc. II
[Dramatis Personae
Ferdinand, King of Navarre
Berowne,
Longaville,
Dumaine, lords attending on the King
Boyet,
Marcade, lords attending on the Princess of France
–––––
Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard
Sir Nathaniel, a curate
Holofernes, a schoolmaster
Dull, a constable
–––––
Costard, a clown
Moth, page to Armado
Forester
–––––
The Princess of France
Rosaline,
Maria,
Katherine, ladies attending on the Princess
Jaquenetta, a country wench
–––––
Lords,