Pro. Villain, forbear.

Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good

news,

So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine.
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news?

Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanish'd.

Pro. That thou art banish'd: O! that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend. Val. O! I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,

(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force,)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd,
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became

them,

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire,
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. 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.

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:
Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate,
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love affairs.
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou see'st my boy, Bid him make haste, and meet me at the northgate.

Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!

me, nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman: but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the cate-log-[Pulling out a paper.] of her conditions. Imprimis, "She can fetch and carry." Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, "She can milk," look you; a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Launce. O, illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother. This proves that thou canst not read.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Launce. There, and saint Nicholas be thy speed' Speed. Imprimis, "She can milk."

Launce. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, "She brews good ale."

Launce. And thereof comes the proverb, -Bless

ing of your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, "She can sew."

Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so! Speed. Item, "She can knit."

Launce. What need a man care for a stock with

a wench, when she can knit him a stock ?

Speed. Item, "She can wash and scour." Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and scour'd.

Speed. Item, "She can spin." Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels. when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, "She hath many nameless virtues." Launce. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.
Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, "She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath."

Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.

Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet mouth." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, "She doth talk in her sleep." Launce. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not

Speed. Item, "She is slow in words." Launce. O villain! that set this down among her vices? To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, "She is proud."

Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, "She hath no teeth."

Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

Speed. Item, "She is curst."

Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Speed. Item, "She will often praise her liquor." Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, "She is too liberal."

Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not, for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, "She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults."

Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, "She hath more hair than wit,"

Launce. More hair than wit, it may be; I'll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt: the hair, that covers the wit, is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. "And more faults than hairs,"Launce. That's monstrous! O, that that were out. Speed. - "And more wealth than faults."

Launce. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,

Speed. What then?

Launce. Why, then will I tell thee, that thy master stays for thee at the north-gate. Speed. For me?

Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him?

Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. - I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Erit.

SCENE II.-The Same. An Apartment in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO; PROTEUS behind. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most; Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.How now, sir Proteus! Is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone?

Pro. Gone, my good lord. Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee, (For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,) Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace, Let me not live to look upon your grace.

Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. I do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?

Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in haté. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: Therefore, it must, with circumstance, be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do:

'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage

him,

Your slander never can endamage him:
Therefore, the office is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it,

By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,

24

She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me;
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind,

Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And for your friend's sake will be glad of you,
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.

Pro. As much as I can do I will effect.
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime to tangle her desires
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Write, till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity:

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady's chamber window
With some sweet consort: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love.

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently,

To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.
I have a sonnet that will serve the turn

To give the onset to thy good advice.

Duke. About it, gentlemen.

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper. And afterward determine our proceedings.

Duke. Even now about it: I will pardon you.

[Exeunt.

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.

1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. But to the purpose; for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd With goodly shape; and by your own report A linguist, and a man of such perfection, As we do in our quality much want

2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. Are you content to be our general ?

To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all.
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have

SCENE II.-Milan. The Court of the Palace.
Enter PROteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think how I have been forsworn,
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows, and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her
window,

And give some evening music to her ear.

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love

Will creep in service where it cannot go.

Thu. Ay; but I hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. Thu. Whom? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia, for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentle

Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she ;

The heaven such grace did lend her,

That she might admired be.

Is she kind, as she is fair,

For beauty lives with kindness?
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now! are you sadder than you were before? How do you, man? the music likes you

not.

Jul. You mistake: the musician likes me not. Host. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays false, father.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings?

Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my

very heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay; I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music.
Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, Host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he lov'd her out of all nick.