Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me! What is your news?

216 Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news,

From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already, 220
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom223

Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual forceA 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 became them

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

228

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; 232
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd 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.

236

252

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, 256
Regard thy danger, and along with me!

Val. I pray thee, Launce, and if thou seest my boy,

Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.

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

260

Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! [Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. 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; 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 catelog 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.

Enter SPEED.

280

240

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

Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. 336 Launce. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Launce. 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.

344

Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

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

Speed. Item, She is curst.

349

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.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. 365

Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. 368 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.— 376 Launce. That's monstrous! O, that that were out!

Speed. And more wealth than faults.

Launce. 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?

A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.

Enter PROTEUS.

How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman According to our proclamation gone?

Pro. Gone, my good lord.

12

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,- 17 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. 21 Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect

The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. I do, my lord.

24

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 persevers so. 28 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.

37

60

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. 65
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 composed rimes
Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay,

Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

68

72

This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love.

88

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 skill'd in music. 92
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

And afterward determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it! I will pardon you. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-A Forest between Milan and Verona. Enter certain Outlaws.

52

First Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.

Sec. Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but

down with 'em.