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(For long agone I have forgot to court:
fietldes, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;)
Ho*, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Yal, Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. [tents her:

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best conSend her another; never give her o'er; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If the do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you: If the do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say i For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away: Platter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd byherfriends [*nto a youthful gentleman of worth; And kept severely from resort of men, That no man hath access by day to her.

Yal. Why then I would resort to her by night.

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe,

That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Vol. What lets, but one may enter at her window?

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.

Yal. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To cut up with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Adrite me where I may have such a ladder.

VaL When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Yal, By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke. But, haik thee; I will go to her alone; How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Yal. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it L nder a cloak, that is of any length.

Duke'. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn.

Yal. Ay, my good lord.

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak: 111 get me one of such another length.

Yal. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.

Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ?— I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.— What letter is this same? What's here ?—To Silvia f And here an engine fit for my proceeding! Ill be to bold to break the seal for once. [Read*. My t\o*ghtt do harbour with my Silvia nightly;

And glavet they are to me, that tend themjlying: 0, could their matter come and go ae lightly,

Himself would lotlge, where tentelett they are tying. My herald thought* in thy pure bosom rett them;

While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do cam the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,

Became myself do want my tervanf* fortune: I curie myielf, for they are tent by me. That they should harbour where their lord should be. What't here?

SUvia, thie night I will enfranchise thee:

Tb to; and here's the ladder for the purpose

Whj, Pheaton, (for thou art Merop's son,)

wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,

And with thy daring folly burn the world?

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?

fc>> base intruder I over-weenlng slave 1

Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates;

And think, mj patience, more than thy desert,

I» privilege for thy departure hence:

Thank me for this, more than for all the favours,

Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee.

But if thou linger in my territories,

Longer than' swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,

By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love

I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.

lie gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.

[Exit Duke.

Val. And why not death, rather than living tor-
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; [ment?
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 she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no musick in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon:
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumln'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 Proteus and Launce.
Pro, Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out-
Laun. So-ho f so-ho!
Pro. What seest thou?

Laun. Him we go to find : there's not a hair on's
head, but 'tis a Valentine.
Pro. Valentine?
VaL No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?
Val. Neither.
Pro. What then?
Val. Nothing,

Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike?
Pro. Whom would'st thou strike?
Laun. Nothing.
Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: 1 pray you,—

Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. [news,

Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

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

Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia I—. Hath she forsworn me? Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me !— What is your news? [vanlsh'd.

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are

Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news; From hence, from iiilvia, 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 As if but now they waxed pale for woe: [them, 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. Tspeak'st,

Val. No more; unless the next word that thou 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 can'st not
And study help for that which thou lament'st. [help.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not Bee 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 1 part with thee, confer at large
()f all that may concern thy love-affairs:
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thygelf,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy.
Bid him make haste, and meet meat the north-gate.

Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

Val. O my dear Silvia, hapless Valentine!

[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus.

Laun, I am but a fool, look you ; and yet 1 have the wit to think, my master is a kind of 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 he who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: but that 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 barechri&tian. 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 she better than a jade. Item, She can milk ; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, sign!or Launce? what news with your mastership?

Latin. With my master's ship? why it is at sea.

Speed. Well, your old vice still; 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. Fyeon thee, jolt-head; thou canstnotread.
Speed, Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Laun. 0 illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not readSpeed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.

Laun. There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,—Bless- SCENE II.—TAe ing of your heaTt, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She can terv.

Laun. That's as much as to say, 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 tcour.

Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item. She can spin.

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

Speed. Item, She hath many nameleti 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 vicet.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

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

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

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.

Speed. Item, She doth talk in her steep.

laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not In her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Laun. 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.

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

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I lo»e crusts.

Speed. Item, She it curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. She will often praite her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She it too liberal. Laun. 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 I cannot help. Well, proceed.

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

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Hehearse that once more. Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,Laun. 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,Laun. That's monstrous: O,that that were out! Speed.And more wealth than faults. Laun. 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?

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

Laun. For thee? ay: who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn.

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner ? "pox of your love letters! [Exit.

Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets!—I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit.

Enter Duke and Thuric; Proteus behind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. [you,
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 worthies* 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 Thnrto thinks not so—
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee.

(For thoa hi-t shown tome sign of good desert,) Mates 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.

Dukt. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant Ho* she opposes her against my will. Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. Dukt. 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 spoken in Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: [hate. Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken Bj one, whom she esteemeth as his friend. Dukt. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: Tii an ill office for a gentleman; Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage Your slander never can endamage him; [him Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevall'd, my lord: if I can do it, aught that 1 can speak In his dispraise. She shall not long continue love to him. But lay, this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

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

Duke. And, I'roteus, we dare trust you in this Because we know, on Valentine's report, [kind; You are already love's firm votary, And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. L'pon 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 gl d 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, Br wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full fraught with serviceable vows. Dukt. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy. t Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty \*ou 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 tome sweet concert: to their Instruments Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining griev. TWi, or else nothing, will Inherit her. [ance* I been in

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ACT IV.

SCENE I A Foreit, near Mantua.

Enter certain Out-laws. 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. S Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.

Enter Valentine and Speed.

3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you hare about you; If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villain* That all the travellers do fear so much.

Vol. My friends,—

1 Out. That's not so, sir; we are your enemies.

2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him.

3 Out. Ay, by my heard, will we; For he's a proper man.

Vat, Then know, that I have little wealth t« A man I am, crossed with adversity: [lose; My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here dlsfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have.

2 Out. Whither travel you? Val. To Verona.

1 Out. Whence came vou? Val. From Milan.

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

Vol. Some sixteen months; and longer might have staid, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence? Val. I was.

2 Our. For what offence? [hearse: Vat. For that which now torments me to re

I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully In fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.

1 Out. Why, ne'er repent It, if it were done so . But were you banish'd for so small a fault?

Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.

1 Out. Have you the tongues?

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy; Or else I often had been miserable.

3 Out. By the hare scalp of Robin Hood's fat This fellow were a king for our wild faction, [final;

1 Out. We'll have him; sirs, a word.

Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val. Peace, villain!

2 Out. Tell us this: Have yon any thing to talte Val. Nothing, but my fortune. [to?

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentle-
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth [men,
Thrast from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Verona banish'd,

For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

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

1 Out. And 1, 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 beautified

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 Say, ay, and be the captain of us all: [consort 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 Our. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have

ofTer'd.

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you;
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers.

3 Out. No, we detect such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And shew thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all lest at thy dispose.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Milan. Court of the Palace.
Enter Proteus.
Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
(Tnder the colour of commending him,
I hare 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,
Vet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows, and f.iwneth on her still.
Hutherecomes Thurio: now must we to her window.
And give some evening musick to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Musicians.

Proteus? are you crept be

Thu. How now fore us?

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, gentlemen,
I«et*s tune, and to it lustily awhile.
Enter Host, at a distance ; and Julia in boy's clothes.

Host. Now, my young guest i methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

Host. Come, we'll have you merry : I'll bring you where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?

Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be musick. [Miuick plays.

Host. Hark ! hark!
Jul. Is he among these?
'Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear'em.

SONG.
Who it Silvia t what Is she,

That all our swains commend hert
Holy, fair, and nritc is the,

The heave/is suck ffract did lend her.
That she might admired be.
It she kind, as she it fair t

For beauty tivet tvith kindnett:
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 dn-etling:
To her let us garlands bring.
Host. How now? are you sadder than you were

before?

How do you, man? the musick likes you not.

Jut. Von 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 1 were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in musick.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!

Jul. Ay; that change is the spite.

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

Jul. I would always have one play but one thingBut, 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 loved her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow,
by his master's command, he must carry for a pre-
sent to his lady.
Jul. Peace! stand aside! the company parts.
Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you! I will so plead.
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?
Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell. [Exeuid Thurio and Musicians.

Silvia app ars above, at her windon'.
Pro. Afadam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen;
Who is that, that spake? [truth,
Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's
You'd quicklv leam to know him by his voice.
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will?

PTM. That I may compass yours.

Sil. You have your wish; mv will is even this,—
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,—by this pale queen of night I swear,

so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit;
And by and by Intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

Jul. 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried. [Aside.

Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?
Pro. 1 likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave
Assure thyself, my love is buried.
Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence;
Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.
Jul, He heard not that. [Aside.
Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow I will make true love.
Jul. If'twere a substance, you would, sure, de-
ceive It,

And make it but a shadow, as I am. [Aside.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;
But, since your falshood shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes.
Send ro me in the morning, and I'll send it:

Send to me in the morning, and I
And so, good rest.

pro_ As wretches have o'er-nigm,

That wait for execution in the morn.

[ Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above. Jul. Host, will you go' Host. By my hallidon, I was fast asleep.

Jul. Pray yon, where lies sir Proteus?

Heat. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think, tii almost day.

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III—The tame.
Enter Eglamour.

Egf. This is the hour that madam Silvia
Entreated me to call, and know her mind;
There's some-great matter she'd employ me in.—
Madam, madam!

Silvia appears above, at her window. Si. Who calls?

Egl. Your servant, and your friend;

One that attends your ladyship's command, [row.

Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-raor

RgL As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

SU. 0 Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplished.
Thou art not Ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
VainThurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd.
Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As whtn thy lady and thy true love died,
Vpon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with
I do desiie thee, even from a heart [plagues.
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to hide what 1 have said to thee.
That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Kecking as little what betideth me
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?

Si/. This evening coming.

Where shall I meet you?

W, At friar Patrick's cell.

Where I intend holy confession.

Ed. I will not fail your ladyship: Good morrow, gentle lady.

iii. Good morrow, kind sir Eglamour. - {Exeunt.

SCENE IV The same.

Enter Laimce, with hit dog.

When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him—even as one would say precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia,from n» mister; and I came no sooner into the diningehamber, buthesteps me to her trencher, and steals h*r capon's leg. O,'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I would ^ave, as one should say, one that takes upon him to t* a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I badnothadraore wit than he, to take Kfoult npon me that he did, I think verily he had bwn hanged fort; sure as I live he had suffered

for't ■ you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while; but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one; What cur it that t says another; Whip him out, says a third; Hang him up, says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whipa the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog t Ay, marry, do 1, quoth he. You do him Ike more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't: thou thlnk'st not of this now !—Nay, I remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When did'st thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale ? did'st thou ever see me do such a trick?

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently.

Jul. In what you please;—I wiii do what I can.

Pro.. I hope, thou wilt.—How now, you whoreson peasant? [ToLaunce. Where have you been these two days loitering?

Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress isilvia the dog you bade me.

Pro. And what says she to my little jewel?

Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pro. But she received my dog?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the maTket-place and then I offered her mine own; who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my sight. Away, I say: Stay'st thou to vex me here? A slave, that, still an end, turns me to shame.

[Exit Launte.

Sebastian, I have entertain'd thee,
Partly, that 1 have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no misting to yon foolish lowt;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia i
She loved me well, deliver'd It to me.
Jul. It seems, you loved her not, to leave her token:
She's dead, belike.

Pro. Not so; I think, she lives.

Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas!

Jul. I cannot choose but pity her?

Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?

Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you as As you do love your lady Silvia: [well She dreams on him, th t has forgot her love; You dote on her, that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary; And thinking on It makes me cry, alas!

Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal This letter;—that's her chamber.—Tell my lady, I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shall find me sad and solitary

[Exit Pr.itetn.

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