(grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Laun. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

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?

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not Speed. Item, She can knit.

cious: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, nothing is impossible,

She shall not long continue love to him.

Speed. What then?

But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

master stays for thee at the north gate.

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from

Speed. For me?

him,

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;

Laun. For thee? ay; wno art thou? he hath Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
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. Because we know, on Valentine's report, Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my You are already love's firm votary, letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. self into secrets! -I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's Upon this warrant shall you have access, correction.

[Exit. 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; SCENE II.-The same. A room in the Duke's Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus be- 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; By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

hind.

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love You must lay lime, to tangle her desires, Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

you,

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy.

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
Trench'd 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 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.

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 perseveres 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 prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,

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 poet's 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 griev-

Enter Valentine and Speed.

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

(4) Mournful elegy. (5) Choose out.

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.

Val. My friends,

1 Out. That's not so, sir; we are your enemies. 2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him.

3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we;

For he's a proper1 man.

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 nave
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.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose; Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,

A man I am, cross'd with adversity:

My riches are these poor habiliments,

Of which if you should here disfurnish me,

You take the sum and substance that I have.

2 Out. Whither travel you?

Val. To Verona.

1 Out. Whence came you?

Val. From Milan.

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

Val. Some sixteen months;

have staid,

And show thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the palace. Enter Proteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,

And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

and longer might Under the colour of commending him,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence? Val. I was.

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?2

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 iov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,5
The least whereof would queil 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,

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy; And give some evening music to her car.

Or else often been miserable.

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!

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 gentle

men,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd 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.

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,

Whom, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.

men,

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

1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as allycholly; I pray you, why is it?

these.

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be

merry.

But to the purpose-(for we cite our faults,

That they may hold excus'd 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 ;

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

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

Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak ?

Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be music.

Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

[Music plays

Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

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.

(5) Passionate reproaches.

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.

But she is dead.

Jul.

'Twere false, if I should speak it. [Aside.

For, I am sure, she is not buried.

Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,

Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importúnacy?

Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.

Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave,

Host. How now? are you sadder than you were Assure thyself, my love is buried.

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.1

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seck 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 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.

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

Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Jul. He heard not that.

[Aside.

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 'twere 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;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it :
And so good rest.
Pro.

As wretches have o'er-night,

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above.

Jul. Host, will you go?
Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus?

Host. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think

That I may compass yours.
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduc'd by thy flattery,

Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this, - It is your pleasure to command me in.

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;

(1) Beyond all reckoning.
(2) Holy dame, blessed lady

F

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman
(Think not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near your heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,

(3) Injunction, command.

(4) Pitiful.

42

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
1 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,

Iserved me, when I took my leave of

madam Silvia; did not I bia thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick ?

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will employ thee in some service presently.

To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with Jul. In what you please ;-I will do what I can.

plagues.

I do desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:

If not, to hide what I have said to thee,

That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.

When will you go?

Sil.

This evening coming.

son peasant?

Pro. I hope, thou wilt.-How now, you whore[To Launce. Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

Pro. And what says she, to my little jewel? Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pro. But she received my dog?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen At friar Patrick's cell, from me by the hangman's boys in the market

Egl. Where shall I meet you?
Sil.

Where I intend holy confession.
Egl. I will not fail your ladyship:
Good-morrow, gentle lady.
Sil. Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour.

place: and then I offer'd 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, [Exeunt. Or ne'er return again unto my sight. Away, I say: Stay'st thou to vex me here? Enter Launce, with A slave, that, still an end, turns me to shame. [Exit Launce. SCENE IV. The same. his dog. Sebastian, I have entertained thee, When a man's servant shall play the cur with Partly, that I have need of such a youth, That can with some discretion do my business, him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt: But chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour; three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went Which (if my augury deceive me not) to it! I have taught him-even as one would say Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth: precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from Go presently, and take this ring with thee, my master; and I came no sooner into the dining- Deliver it to madam Silvia:

of a puppy;

one that I

saved from drowning, when

chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and She loved me well, delivered it to me. steals her capon's leg. O'tis a foul thing, when

a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I

Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her

token:

would have, as one should say, one that takes upon She's dead, belike.

Pro.

Not so; I think, she lives.

Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thy cry, alas!
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you as

well

him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at
all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to
take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he
had been hanged for't; sure as I live, he had suf-
fered for't: you shall judge. He thrusts me him-
self into the company of three or four gentlemen-
like dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been
there (bless the mark) a pissing while; but all the As you do love your lady Silvia :
chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one; She dreams on him, that has forgot her love;
What cur is that? says another; Whip him out, You dote on her, that cares not for your love.
says the third; Hang him up, says the duke. I, 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary;
having been acquainted with the smell before, And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!
Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal
knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that
whips the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to This letter;-that's her chamber.-Tell my lady,
whip the dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
do him the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the 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 mes-
sage?

thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado,
but whips me out of the chamber. How many
masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll
be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he
hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
otherwise he had suffered for't: thou think'st not Alas, poor fool! Why do I pity him
of this now !-Nay, I remember the trick you That with his very heart despiseth me?

(1) Garing. (2) Restrain. (3) In the end.

Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.