Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger Duke. Be they of much import? The tenour of them doth but signify I am to break with thee of some affairs Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle man Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, 70 Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife And turn her out to who will take her in: Duke. There is a lady in Verona here Val. 80 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 her. Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Duke. This very night; for Love is like a That longs for every thing that he can come by. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: 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. Then let me see thy cloak: I lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. What letter is this same? What's here? 'To And here an engine fit for my proceeding., My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; Because myself do want my servants' fortune: be. What's here? Send her another; never give her o'er; friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, And kept severely from resort of men, 100 150 'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.' 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaethon,-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! 160 And think my patience, more than thy desert, Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by night. But if thou linger in my territories Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse; To die is to be banish'd from myself; Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE. Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. 170 180 190 Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head but 'tis a Valentine. Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force- With many bitter threats of biding there. Have some malignant power upon my life: 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. 250 Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest 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! 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; 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 Speed. Why, man, how black? 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! 301 Speed. [Reads] 'Imprimis: She can milk." Speed. Item: She brews good ale.' Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so? Speed. Item: She can knit.' 310 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 washed 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 hath many nameless virtues.' 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 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 virtue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue. Speed. Item: she is proud.' 340 Launce. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. Item: She hath no teeth.' 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. збо 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 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? 380 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 stayed for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn. 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 Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. Forsworn my company and rail'd at me, Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure Launce. I care not for that neither, because How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman Speed. Item: She is curst.' Launce. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him; Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it By ought that I can speak in his dispraise, Lest it should ravel and be good to none, 50 Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, Because we know, on Valentine's report, And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. 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 This, or else nothing, will inherit her. Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, go To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music. Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, And afterward determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it! I will pardon you. [Exeunt. I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; First Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. 30 But were you banish'd for so small a fault? Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or else I often had been miserable. Third Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction! First Out. We'll have him. Sirs, a word, Speed Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery. Val. Peace, villain! 40 man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you: 60 Are you content to be our general? to make a virtue of necessity And live, as we do, in this wilderness? Third Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort? Say ay, and be the captain of us all: We'll do thee homage and be ruled by thee, First Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. Sec. Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd. Val. I take your offer and will live with you, 71 Third Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, SCENE II. Milan. Outside the DUKE's palace, under SILVIA's chamber. Enter PROTEUS. Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; And give some evening music to her ear. Thu. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us? Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know that love Will creep in service where it cannot go. 20 Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. Thu. Who? Silvia? Who is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. 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. 40 50 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. |