[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I 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 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 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 car-bite. ry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and

cious: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as || By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,

nothing is impossible,Speed. What then?

She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. master stays for thee at the north gate.

Speed. For me?

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,

Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,

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 [Exit. SCENE II-The same. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind.

correction.

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 :—

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;

you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

You must lay lime,3 to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
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
Trenched2 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 persévers 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

hate.

Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:

Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend."

Duke. Ay, much 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 poet's 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 concert: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining griev-

ance.

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 prac

tice:

Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently

To sorts 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; will pardon you.
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. SCENE I-A forest, near Mantua. Enter

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,

(1) Graceful. (2) Cut.

(3) Bird-lime.

certain Out-laws.

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.

Val. 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 beard, will we;

For he's a proper1 man.

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 offer'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 detest such vile base practices.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose; Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,

A man I am, cross'd with adversity:
My riches are these poor habilaments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.
2 Out. Whither travel you?

Val. To Verona.

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

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

Val. 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 Out. For what offence?

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse:
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 ?2

:

And show thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

Exeunt.

SCENE II-Milan. Court of the palace. En-
ter 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,5

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 win-
dow,

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy; And give some evening music to her ear.

Or else I often had been miserable.

3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat

friar,

This fellow were a king for our wild faction.

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 you any thing to take
to?

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

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

men,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful3 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,
Whom, in my mood,4 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 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
consort?

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all :
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,

Upon whose grave fhon vor det pare chastity.
Si Eglattost. I would to Valectõe,
To Mantua, where, I bear, be makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I as der T TIET CEORST,
Upon whose fauto and brocar I repose.
Cize not my father's anger, Ellambe,
But in upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the metice of my by me bence,
To keep me from a most unboy match.
Which bearen and jurtone stil reward with
plagues.

I do desire thee, even from a heart

As fall of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to bude what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

Ez Madam, I pity must your grievances:
Which since I know they virtuously are placid,

I give consent to go along with you;
Pecking as little what beti deth me,
As math I wish all good befortune you
When will you go?

S

Thes evening commning.
Ezl. Where shall I meet you?
Sal
Where I intend holy confession.

A: friar Patrick's cell,

Erl. I will not fall your ladyship: Good-morrow, gentle lady.

Sil Good-morrow, kad sir Eglamour.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV-The same. Enter Launce, with his dog.

I served me, when I took my leave of madum Stvia; and not 1 bed thee smirk me, and do as I do? When did thou see me beate up my leg, and make water against a gentiem oman's fartingale? didst tou ever see me do such a trick ?

When a man's servant shall play the cur with hirn, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a peppy: 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 my master; and I came no sooner into the dining chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! It! would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think venly he had been hanged for't: sure as I live, he had surfered for't: you shall judre. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemenlike 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 is that? says another; Whip him out. says the 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! whips the dors: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay, marry, do I, qnoth he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I: 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado. but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nav, li.j| 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 think'st not of this now-Nay, I remember the trick you

(1) Caring. (2) Restrain. (3) In the end.

Enter Proteas and Julia,

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I Eke thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please :—1 will di what I can. Fra. I hope, that wit-How now, you whorei's Launce. son peasant?

Where have you been these two days itering? Lawn Marry, sir, I carried mistress Suvia the de voc bade me.

Pra. And what says she, to my Entle jewe!? Lawn Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and wells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pra. But she received my dog?

Lava. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brocht him back aria

Pre. What, didst the offer ber this from me? Lan, Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by the baneman's boys in the marketplace: and then I offered ber mine own: who is a 3g as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift

the great.

Pro. Go, get thee bence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again unto my sci
Away, I say: Stay 'st thou to rex me here ?
A stave, that, Stan end, turns me to shame.
Erit Launce.
Sebastian. I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth.
That can with some discretion do my business,
Fortis no trusting to yon foolsh 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 then, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia:
She loved me well, deaver'd it to me.
Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her
She's dead, belike.

Pro.

token:

Jul. Alas!

Not so; I think, she lives.

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou her?
pity
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you as
well

As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams on him, that 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 therewith:1
This letter:-that's ber chamber.-Tell my lady,
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.

Erit Proteas Jul. How many women would do such a mes sage?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! Why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.