the Palace.

ter.

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;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend;

For love is still more precious than itself:

And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair!
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive,
Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
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 enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter:
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceed-
ing.

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!

[Exit. SCENE VII.-Verona.-A Room in JULIA'S

House.

Aud, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,-
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts,
Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,—

To lesson me! and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, 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;

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam'st * it up, the more it burns;

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth

rage;

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, t
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 yom
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

Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?

Jul. That fits as well, as-"tell me, good my lord,

"What compass will you wear your farthin

gale ?"

Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a cod

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey, when you come, matter who's displeas'd, when you are

No

gone:

I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect!

But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth:
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;

His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.

Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him!

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that

SCENE 1.-Milan.-An Ante-room in the DUKE's palace.

Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile:

We have some secrets to confer about.-[Exit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me ?

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover,

The law of friendship bids me to conceal ;
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that

Which else no worldly good should draw from

me.

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 determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ;
And should she thus be stolen 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;

Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of their's myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, t
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

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,

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 her's,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine

age

Should have been cherish'd by her child-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, Sir, in Milan 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 chang'd;
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

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

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

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents ber :

Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For sworn 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 have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away;

Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

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 every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Duke. But, bark 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.

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 3-To
Silvia?

And here an engine fit for my proceeding!
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.

[Reads.

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
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 :

Thank me for this, more than for all the favours,
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 lov'st thy life, make speed from
hence.
[Exit DUKE.
Val. And why not death, rather than living
torment ?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from ber,
s 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 :

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended kuees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding

tears,

Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, ber 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.⚫

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 can'st 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;

Grief,

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 baste, and meet me at the northgate. 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 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 tt woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid: 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. Here is a 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 bands.

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 beard'st.

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. Thon liest, I can.

Laun. 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 saint Nicholas

Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

speed!

be thy

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,— Blessings 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. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, She is not to be kiss'd fast ing, 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 no 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. Item, She will often praise her li quor.

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: P'N 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: Oh! 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,-that thy 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; '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

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 numeless 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.

St. Nicholas preside over young scho.ars.

DUKE'S Palace.