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 't is I love, and yet 't is a woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 't is 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.

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. Fye on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.

Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laxn. 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.

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 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. 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 be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

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

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.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

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

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth. Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath. 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.

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

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

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

Speed. Item, She is curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. She will often praise her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She is too liberal.

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: now of another thing she may; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her; she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article; Rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,

Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next.

Speed. And more faults than hairs,—
Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed 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 correction. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. A room 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 banished from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me most, Forsworn my company, and railed at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenchéd 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.

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. Then you must undertake to slander him. 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 prevailed, my lord: if I can do it,
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.
Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
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
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,

As

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,
By wailful sonnets, whose composéd rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay, much is 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 poets' 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 grievance
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shews 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 some gentlemen well skilled 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 afterwards determine our proceedings.
Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-A Forest, near Mantua.

Enter certain Outlaws.

1st Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so : But were you banished for so small a fault? Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 1st Out. Have you the tongues?

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy;

Or else I often had been miserable.

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

This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1st Out. We'll have him; sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them:

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val. Peace, villain!

2nd Out. Tell us this: Have you anything to take to?

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

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

men,

Such as the fury of ungoverned youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Verona banished
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

2nd Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Whom, in my mood, I stabbed unto the heart.

1st Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as

these.

But to the purpose,-for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excused 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;-

2nd Out. Indeed, because you are a banished 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?

3rd Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consórt?

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all :
We'll do thee homage, and be ruled by thee,
Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1st Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

2nd Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offered.

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you; Provided that you do no outrages On silly women, or poor passengers.

3rd Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we 'll bring thee to our crews, And shew thee all the treasures 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 loved:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
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,

And give some evening music 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?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.

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

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?

Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she,

The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

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 helped, 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 music 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 music. Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music! 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 on, often resort unto this gentlewoman?

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

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 St. 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 music, 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, perjured, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceived 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.

Jul. T were false, if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

[Aside.

Sil. Say that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,

I am betrothed: And art thou not ashamed
To wrong him with thy importúnacy?

Pro. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. Sil. And so suppose am I; for in his grave Assure thyself my love is buried.

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence; Or, at least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Aside.

Jul. He heard not that. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdúrate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber; To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep: For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow I will make true love. Jul. If 't were a substance, you would sure deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;

Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,

I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil. O, Eglamour, thou art a gentleman!
(Think not, I flatter, for I swear I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well-accomplished.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banished Valentine:
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorred.
Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vowedst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with

plagues.