DUKE OF MILAN – father of SILVIA
VALENTINE, PROTEUS – Gentlemen of Verona
ANTONIO – father of PROTEUS
THURIO – a foolish rival to VALENTINE
EGLAMOUR – agent for SILVIA in her escape
SPEED – a clownish servant to VALENTINE
LAUNCE – servant to PROTEUS
PANTHINO – servant to ANTONIO
Host, where JULIA lodges in Milan
Outlaws
JULIA – a lady of Verona, beloved by PROTEUS
SILVIA – the Duke’s daughter, beloved by VALENTINE
LUCETTA – waiting-woman to JULIA
PLAY
Sometimes in Verona; sometimes in Milan; and on the frontiers of Mantua.
ACT I
Scene i: An open place in Verona.
Scene ii: The same. Garden of Julia’s house.
Scene iii: The same. A room in Antonia’s house.
ACT II
Scene i: Milan. An apartment in the Duke’s palace.
Scene ii: Verona. A room in Julia’s house.
Scene iii: The same. A street.
Scene iv: Milan. An apartment in the Duke’s palace.
Scene v: The same. A street.
Scene vi: The same. An apartment in the palace.
Scene vii: Verona. A room in Julia’s house.
ACT III
Scene i: Milan. An anteroom in the Duke’s palace.
Scene ii: The same. A room in the Duke’s palace.
ACT IV
Scene i: A forest near Mantua.
Scene ii: Milan. Court of the palace.
Scene iii: The same.
Scene iv: The same.
ACT V
Scene i: The same. An abbey.
Scene ii: The same. An apartment in the Duke’s palace.
Scene iii: Frontiers of Mantua. The forest.
Scene iv: Another part of the forest.
Act II: Scene iv
PROTEUS: Even as one heat another heat expels,
Or as one nail by strength drives another out,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus’ praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus?
She’s fair; and so is Julia that I love,–
That I did love, for now my love is thaw’d;
Which like a waxen image ‘gainst a fire
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,
And that I love him not as I was wont:
O! but I love his lady too, too much;
And that’s the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her?
‘Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason’s light;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring love, I will:
If not, to compass her I’ll use my skill.
