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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, 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 Ay away from life.

Enter PROTHBUS,

and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-ho! so-ho!
Pro. What see'st thou ::

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Laun. Him we go to find : there's not a hair
On's head, but 'tis a Valentine.
pa .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 ?

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Laun. Nothing.
Pro. Villain, forbear.
Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing : I pray you
Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear : Friend Valentine, a
word.

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

vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'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 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, 230 Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;

But

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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.

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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. 250
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 north-gate.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

Val. O my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine! 260

[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 Lam in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I luve, 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 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.

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Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news witha

your mastership? Laun. 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'sta Speed. Why, man, how black ?

Laun. Why, as black, as ink. Speed. Let me read them.

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Laun.

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Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head ; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.
Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee?
Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother : this proves, that thou canst not read.

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Speed. 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-Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She can sew.
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 scour.

Laun. A special virtue ; for then she need not to be wash'd and scour'd.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

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

310 Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Bastard virtues ; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

F

Speed