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There's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

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Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, Sir, I'll ftrike nothing, I pray you,-
Pro. I fay, forbear: friend Valentine, a word.
Val. My ears are ftopt, and cannot hear good news;
So much of bad already hath poffeft 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 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 excefs of it will make me furfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and fhe hath offer'd to the doom,
Which unrevers'd ftands in effectual force,
A fea of melting pearl, which fome call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet the tender'd,
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf;
Wringing her hands, whofe whitenefs fo became them,

As if but now they waxed pale for wo.

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But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompaffionate Sire
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him fo,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unlefs the next word that thou fpeak'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.

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Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament'ft. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good: Here if thou ftay, 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, tho' thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, fhall be deliver'd Ev'n 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, tho' not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an' if thou feeft my boy, Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate. Pro. Go, Sirrah, find him out: come, Valentine.

Val. O my dear Silvia! haplefs Valentine!

[Exeunt Valentine and Protheus.

SCENE

S CE NE IV.

you,

I

" 3 Laun. I am but a fool, look and yet "have the wit to think my mafter is a kind of a "knave: but that's all one, if he be but one kind. "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: fhe "hath more qualities than a water-fpaniel, which is "much in a bare chriftian. Here is the cat-log "[Pulling out a paper] of her conditions; Imprimis, "the can fetch and carry; why, a horfe can do no "more; nay, a horfe cannot fetch, but only carry; "therefore the is better than a jade. Item, the can "milk; look you, a fweet virtue in a maid with "clean hands.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, fignior Launce? what news with your_mastership?

+ Laun. With my mafter's fhip? why, it is at fea.

3 Laun. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think my mafter is a kind of knave: but that's all one, if he be but one KNAVE.] Where is the fenfe, or, if you won't allow the Speaker that, where is the humour of this fpeech? Nothing had given the fool occafion to fufpect that his mafter was become double, like Antipholis in the Comedy of Errors. The laft word is corrupt. We should read,

if he be but one KIND.

He thought his master was a kind of knave; however, he keeps himfelf in countenance with this reflexion, that if he was a knave but of one kind, he might pafs well enough amongst his neighbours. This is truly humourous.

4

With my mafer's fhip?] This pun reftored by Mr. Theobald. Speed.

Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; mistake the word: what news then in your paper?

Laun. The blackeft news that ever thou heard'ft.
Speed. Why, man, how black?
Laun. Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou can'st not read.
Speed. Thou lyeft, I can.

Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee? Speed. Marry, the fon of my grand-father.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer, it was the fon of thy grand-mother; this proves, that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come, try me in thy paper. Laun. There, and St. Nicholas be thy fpeed! Speed. Imprimis, fhe can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, the brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, Bleffing of

your beart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, the can fowe.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, Can fhe fo?

Speed. Item, fhe can knit.

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

Speed. Item, fhe can wash and fcour.

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

Speed. Item, fhe can fpin..

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

Speed. Item, the hath many nameless virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, Baftard Virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have

no names.

5 St. Nicholas be thy speed.] St. Nicholas prefided over Scholars, who were therefore called St. Nicholas's Clerks. Hence, by a quibble between Nicholas and Old Nick, Highway-men, in the first part of Henry the fourth, are called Nicholas's Clerks.

Speed.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Clofe at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, fhe is not to be kist fafting, in respect of her breath.

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

Speed. Item, fhe hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her four breath.
Speed. Item, fhe doth talk in her sleep.

Laun. It's no matter for that, fo fhe fleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, fhe is flow in words.

Laun. O villain! that fet down among her vices ! to be flow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue." Speed. Item, fhe is proud.

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

Speed. Item, fhe hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love crufts.

Speed. Item, fhe is curft.

Laun. Well, the best is, fhe hath no teeth to bite.
Speed. Item. fhe will often praise her liquor.

Laun. If her liquor be good, fhe fhall; if she will not, I will; for good things fhould be praised. Speed. Item, he is too liberal.

Laun. Of her tongue fhe cannot, for that's writ down, fhe's flow of; of her purfe fhe fhall not, for that I'll keep fhut; now of another thing fhe may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, fhe hath more hairs than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. Laun, " Stop here; I'll have her; fhe was mine, " and not mine, twice or thrice in that article, Rehearfe that once more.

Speed. Item, the hath more hair than wit,

Laun.

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