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 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 seest 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!

[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 a knave: but that's all one, if he 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 what woman, I will not tell myself.

Enter SPEED.

Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news with 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'st.
Speed. Why, man, how black?
Laun. Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.
Laun. There; and saint Nicholas 9 be thy speed!
Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.
Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof 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. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.

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.

Speed. Item, She is too liberal.2

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. What's next?

Speed. She has 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 I will tell thee, 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? plague 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.

SCENE II. The same. A Koom in the Duke's
Palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO; PROTEUS behind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love

you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exíle she hath despised 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 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 shewn 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.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, What might we do to make the girl forget

and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

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

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. Then you must undertake to slander him
2 Licentious in language.

3 Cut

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.

By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
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,

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it, That may discover such integrity :

By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

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.

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, After your dire lamenting elegies,

Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
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:
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,

Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
With some sweet concert: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump 6; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
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 practice.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently

To sort 7 some gentlemen well skill'd in musick:
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: I will pardon you.
[Exeunt.

SCENE I. - A Forest near Mantua.

Enter certain Out-laws.

ACT IV.

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.
2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down
with 'em.

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.

3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have

about you;

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

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? 8

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy;

Speed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the villains Or else I often had been miserable.

That all the travellers do fear so much.

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

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 gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungoverned youth Thrust from the company of awful 9 men.

1 Out. But to the purpose,

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; ·

Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:

2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,

have staid,

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,
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. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, And shew thee all the treasure we have got ; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

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 quips9,
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 window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.

Enter THURIO, and Musicians.

Thu. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept before 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?

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.

Enter HOST, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes. Host. Now, my young guest! 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 ask'd for.

that

you

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be musick.
Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

Is she kind, as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness:
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 dwelling;
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.
Jul. You 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 I 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.

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

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk ou, often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he loved her out of all nick. 1

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present 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. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.

SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn 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?

Pro.
That I may compass yours.
Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this, —
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
[Musick plays. 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,
I am 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.

1 Beyond all reckoning.

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 market-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 7, turns me to shame.
[Exit LAUNCE.

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting 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 :

She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.

Jul. Ay, madam.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.

[Picture brought.

Go, give your master this: tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.
Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.

I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.

Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me:
For I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:

Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring,

Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul. She thanks you.

Sil. What say'st thou?

Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her: Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. Sil. Dost thou know her?

Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself.

Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well To think upon her woes, I do protest,

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 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 shalt find me sad and solitary.

[Exit PROTEUS.
Jul. How many women would do such a message?
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.

This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will:
And now am I (unhappy messenger)

To plead for that which I would not obtain;
To carry that which I would have refus'd;

To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.

I am my master's true confirmed love;

But cannot be true servant to my master,

Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet I will woo for him; but yet so coldy,

That I have wept an hundred several times.

Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.
Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of

sorrow.

Sil. Is she not passing fair?

Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Sil. How tall was she?

Jul. About my stature: for at Pentecost 8,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown;
Which serv'd me as fit, by all men's judgment,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And, at that time, I made her weep a-good 9,
For I did play a lamentable part:
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,

As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!