But if thou linger in my territories,

Longer than fwifteft expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,

By heaven, my wrath fhall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.

Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe,

But, as thou loy'ft thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit.
Val. And why not death, rather than living torment?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment !
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen ?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be, to think that fhe is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no mufick in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my effence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence

Fofter'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
'I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter Protheus and Launce.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and feek him out.

Laun. So-ho! fo-ho!

Pro. What feeft thou?

Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hair

On's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:]-By avoiding, through fight, the execution of the Duke's fentence, I fhall not escape death.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Laun. Can nothing speak? master, fhall I ftrike?
Pro. Whom would'ft thou strike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, fir, I'll ftrike nothing: I pray you,

Pro. Sirrah, I fay, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are ftopp'd, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath poffefs'd them.

Pro. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.

Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia !→→ Hath fhe forfworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

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

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd.
Pro. That thou art banith'd, oh, that is the news
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already,

And now excefs of it will make me furfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banifhed?

Pro. Ay, ay; and fhe hath offer'd to the doom,
(Which unrevers'd, stands in effectual force)
A fea of melting pearl, which fome call tears:
Those at her father's churlifh feet fhe tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf;

Wringing

Wringing her hands, whose whitenefs fo became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

But neither bended knees, pure hands held

up,

Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompaffionate fire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die,
Besides, her interceffion chaf'd him so,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou speak'ft, Have fome malignant power upon my life:

If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,

As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Ceafe 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 fee thy love;
Befides, thy ftaying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's ftaff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, fhall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white " bofom of thy love.
The time now ferves not to expoftulate;
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't Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

h

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou feeft my boy, Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate.

bofom]-a pocket was formerly worn in the front of the fays, for the reception of such matters.

K 2

Pro.

Pro. Go, firrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
Val. O my dear Silvia! haplefs Valentine!

[Exeunt Valentine and Protheus. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from 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 fhe hath had goffips: yet 'tis a maid, for fhe is her master's maid, and ferves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-fpaniel-which is much in a 'bare christian. Here is the cat-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 fhe better than a jade. Item, She can milk, look you; A fweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Enter Speed.

m

Speed. How now, fignior Launce? what news with your mastership?

Laun. With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.
Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; mistake the word:
What news then in your paper
?

Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.

Speed. Why, man, how black?

Laun. Why, as black as ink.

Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou can'ft not read.

i but one knave.]-a fingle knave, if he be not a knave in more capacities than one, to his friend as well as to his mistress.

bad goffips :]-a call for them, need of them.

1 bare]-naked, without the spaniel's thick coat. majade.]-a forry nag.

Speed.

Speed. Thou lyeft, I can.

Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee? Speed. Marry, the fon of my grandfather.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the fon of thy grandmother; this proves, that thou can'ft not read.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.

n

Laun. There; And St. Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,-Bleffing of

your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She can few.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, Can she so?

Speed. Item, She can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock.

Speed. Item, She can wash and fcour.

Laun. A fpecial virtue; for then fhe need not to be wafh'd and fcour'd.

Speed. Item, She can fpin.

Laun. Then may I fet the world on wheels, when she can fpin for her living.

Speed. Item, She bath many nameless virtues.

Laun. 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.

Laun. Clofe at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, She is not to be kiss'd fafting, in respect of ber breath.

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

St. Nicholas]-The patron of scholars.

a ftock.]-a pair of stockings.

"It does indifferent well in a flame colour'd flock." TWELFTH NIGHT, A&t I, S. 3. Sir And. K 3

Speed.