Launce. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.

Speed. But shall she marry him?
Launce. No.

Speed. How then? shall he marry her?
Launce. No, neither.

Speed. What, are they broken?

Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter with them?

Launce. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.

Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.

Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me. Speed. What thou sayest?

Launce. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Launce. Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will.

Speed. The conclusion is then that it will. Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how sayest thou, that my master is become a notable lover?

Launce. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?

Launce. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me.

Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; meant thy master.

50

I

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.

Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian Speed. Why?

Launce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go Speed. At thy service.

?

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The same. The DUKE's palace.

Enter PROTeus.

Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ; To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn: To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; And even that power which gave me first my Provokes me to this threefold perjury; [oath Love bade me swear and Love bids me forswear.

10

Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there I leave to love where I should love.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; 20
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss
For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia.
1 to myself am dearer than a friend,
For love is still most precious in itself;
And Silvia (witness Heaven, that made her fair!)
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembering that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

30

I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window,
Myself in counsel, his competitor.
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight;
Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine:
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross 40
By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! [Exit.

SCENE VII. Verona. JULIA's house.

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: And even in kind love I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character'd and engraved, To lesson me and tell me some good mean How, with my honor, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long! Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; 10 Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

Luc. Better forbear till Proteus make return. Jul. O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food?

Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 20
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot
fire,

But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more
it burns.

The current that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth

rage:

30

But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go and hinder not my course:
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut
your hair.

Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. To be fantastic may become a youth O greater time than I shall show to be.

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? [lord, Jul. That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my What compass will you wear your farthingale? Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favor'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin,

Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have What thou thinkest meet and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute

me

For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me, it will make me scandalized.

(me.

The law of friendship bids me to conceal;
But when I call to mind your gracious favors
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter:
Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know you have determined to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should she thus be stol'n away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest

care;

21

30

A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devised a

mean

40

How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly
That my discovery be not aimed at:
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.
Duke. Upon mine honor, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is com-
ing.
\Exit. 50

Enter VALENTINE.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger | That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.

Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile;

I am to break with thee of some affairs That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought 61 To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. Val. I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match

Were rich and honorable; besides, the gentle

man

Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter: Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,

70

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her chud-like
duty,

I now am full resolved to take a wife,

And turn her out to who will take her in :
Then let her beauty be her wedding dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your Grace have me to do
in this?

Duke. There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor-
For long agone I have forgot to court;
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed-
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

80

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:

90

Dumb jewels often in their silent kind More than quick words do move a woman's [her.

mind.

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.

Send her another; never give her o'er:
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
Forget you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!'
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces,
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels'

faces.

100

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Duke. But she I mean is promised by her
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, [friends
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.
Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by night.

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke. This very night: for Love is like a child,

That longs for everything that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: How shall I best convey the ladder thither? Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may

bear it

Under a cloak that is of any length.

130

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

Val. Ay, my good lord.
Duke.

Then let me see thy cloak:
I'll get me one of such another length.
Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my
lord.

Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia !'

And here an engine fit for my proceeding. I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. 'My thoughts do harbor with my Silvia nightly, And slaves they are to me that send them flying:

O, could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that hither them im

portune,

Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servants' fortune: I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbor where their lord would be.'

What's here?

150

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.' 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaeton,-for thou art Merops' son,Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder! overweening slave! Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, And think my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence: 160 Thank me for this more than for all the favors Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee. But if thou linger in my territories

Longer than swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever bore my daughter or thyself.

Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from
hence.
[Exit.
Val. And why not death rather than living
torment?
170

To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

180

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom

Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force—
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so be-
came them

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs,deep groans,nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; 231
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafed him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st

Have some malignant power upon my life:
If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

240

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,

And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.

Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
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. 250
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 lovest 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 Northgate.

Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

Val. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! 260 [Exeunt Val. and Pro. Launce. 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 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 what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; and 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. [Pulling out a paper. Here is the cate-log of her condition.

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.

Launce. 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? Launce. The blackest news that ever thou heardest.

Speed. Why, man, how black?
Launce. Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. 291

Speed. Thou liest; I can. Launce. I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Launce. 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. Launce. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed. [Reads] 'Imprimis: She can milk.' Launce. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item: She brews good ale.' Launce. And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.' Speed. Item: She can sew.'

Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so?

Launce. 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.' Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and scoured.

Speed. Item: She can spin.'

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

Speed. Item: She has many nameless vir

tues.'

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

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

Speed. Item: She hath a sweet mouth.' 330 Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath.

Speed. Item: She will often praise her liquor.'

351

Launce. 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.'

Launce. 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 cannot I help. Well, proceed. 360

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

Launce. 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,'Launce. 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,'Launce. That's monstrous: O, that that were

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-letters! (Exit. 391

Launce. 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. The DUKE'S palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO.

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
Thu. Since his exile 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.

Enter PROTEUS.

ΤΟ

How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman
According to our proclamation gone?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.
Duke. My daughter takes his going griev
Pro. A litttle time, my lord, will kill that grief.

[ously.