thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth? Laun. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose my tongue ? Laun. In thy tale. Pan. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide!-Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest, Pan. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go, [Exeunt. SCENE IV-Milan. An Apartment in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. . Thu. How? Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? * Observe. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, Sir. Thu. Ay, Sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, Sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire: Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, Sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: Of much good news? Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a son ? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him as myself; for from our infancy To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; Duke. Beshrew* me, Sir, but, if he make this good, * Пl betide. And here he means to spend his time awhile: Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Val. This the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchised them [Exit DUKE. Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter PROTEUS. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, Pro. No; that you are worthless. Enter SERVANT. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me:-Once more, new servant, welcome: I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. [Exit SER. [Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Val. And how do yours? Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love? I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no woe to his correction, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! Now, no discourse, except it be of love; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the idol that you worship so? Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? Pro. I will not flatter her. Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you. Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Val. Sweet, except not any; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour,To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly. Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; She is alone. Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine own; As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, My foolish rival, that her father likes, Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along; and I must after, Val. Ay, and we are betrothed; With all the cunning manner of our flight, Some necessaries that I needs must use; Pro. I will. Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, SCENE V-The same. A Street. Enter SPEED and LAUNCE. [Exit VAL. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. [Exit. Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always-that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. *On further knowledge. |