Pro. Villain, forbear. you, Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them. Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news? Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'd: O! that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend. Val. O! I have fed upon this woe already, 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 doom, (Which, unrevers'd, 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 became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: Val. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st Have some malignant power upon my life: Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou see'st my boy, Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north gate. Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. 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 love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that fro me, nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman: b what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath ha gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qual ties than a water-spaniel, which is much in a ba Christian. Here is the cate-log-[Pulling out paper.]-of her conditions. Imprimis, "She ca fetch and carry." Why, a horse can do no more nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; there fore, is she better than a jade. Item, "She ca milk," look you; a sweet virtue in a maid with clea hands. 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. Imprimis, "She can milk." Launce. Ay, that she can. 66 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! Speed. Item, "She can knit." 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 scour'd. Speed. Item," She can spin." Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. Speed. Item, "She hath many nameless virtues." 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." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, "She doth talk in her sleep." 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 vir tue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue. Speed. Item, "She is proud." 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 Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, covers the wit, is more than the wit, for the greater 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." Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. Item, "She will often praise her liquor." 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. 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," hides the less. What's next? Launce. Why, then will I tell thee,-that thy master stays for thee at the north-gate. Speed. For me? Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner! pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets.-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Erit. SCENE II.-The Same. An Apartment 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 banish'd from her sight. Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd 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.-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 persevers 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 haté. 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: Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it, By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, 24 She shall not long continue love to him. Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in th kind, Because we know, on Valentine's report, And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, Visit by night your lady's chamber window Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music. To give the onset to thy good advice. Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, [Exeunt. Val. From Milan. 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there? Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse. Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; have stay'd, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 2 Out. What! were you banish'd thence? Val. I was. 2 Out. For what offence? 4 But yet I slew him manfully, in fight, 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? Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or else I had been often 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. It is an honourable kind of thievery. 2 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 gentlemen, 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, Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart. 1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. But to the purpose; for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd 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? 3 Out. What say'st thou wilt thou be of our consort? Say, ay, and be the captain of us all. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have 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. Come, go with us: we'll bring thee to our crews, And show thee all the treasure we have got, Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Milan. The Court of the Palace. Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; And give some evening music to her ear. Who is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? The heaven such grace did lend her, Is she kind, as she is fair, For beauty lives with kindness? To help him of his blindness; That Silvia is excelling; Upon the dull earth dwelling: 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 lov'd her out of all nick. |