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SCENE I. Milan.
An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Val. Not mine; my gloves are on.
Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia !
Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know ma-
Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A. B. C.; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her ives, grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to e. watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak paling, like a beggar at Hallowmast. You were wont, when you langh'd, to crow like a ded, cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.
Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived without you. Val. Without me? They cannot....
Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady.
Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I
Spred. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured.
Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.
Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.
Val. How painted? and how out of count! Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.
Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.
Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.
Val. How long hath she been deformed? Speed. Ever since you loved her.
Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.
Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Val. Why?
Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going ungartered!
Val, What should I see then?
Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and yon, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.
Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.
Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.
Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease.
Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you?
Val. I have.
Speed. Are they not lamely writ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :-Peace, here she comes.
Speed. O excellent motions! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand goodmorrows.
Speed. O, 'give you good even! here's a million of manners. [Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
Speed. He should give her interest; and she gives it him. [letter,
Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship,
Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.
• Under a regimen.` ́+ Allhallowmas. Whipped. A puppet-show. | Like a scholar.
Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly | For often you have writ to her; and she, in For, being ignorant to whom it goes, [off; [again reply, I writ at random, very doubtfully., Or else for want of idle time, could not Sil. Perchance you think too much of so Or fearing else some messenger, that might much pains?, [write, her mind discover, [untoher lover. Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will Herself hath taught her love himself to write Please you command, a thousand times as All this I speak in print; for in print I found And yet, [much: Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time. [it.Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; Val. I have dined. And yet I will not name it:-and yet I care not;
And yet take this again;—and yet I thank you;
Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ:
Val. Madam, they are for you.
Sil. Ay, ay; youwrit them, sir, at my request:
Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read
And so good-morrow, servant. [Exit SILVIA.
My master sues to her; and she hath taught
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! was there ever heard a
Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason.
Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt.
take you this.
Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Julia, farewell.-What! gone without a word?
Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for.
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
SCENE III. The same. A Street.
Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog. Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruelhearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it:
This shoe is my father;-no, this left shoe is my father;-no, no, this left shoe is my mother;-nay, that cannot be so neither;-yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole; This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; A vengeance on't! there 'tis : now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog:-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-0, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on:-now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood woman;-well, I kiss her; why there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.
Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thon, man? Away, asз; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
La. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man 'ty'd.
Pan. What's the unkindest tide?
La. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and,in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service, Why dost thou stop my mouth?
La. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose my tongue? Laun. In thy tale.
Pan. In thy tail?
Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide!-Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs.
Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest.
Laun. Well, I will go.
quickly shot off.
Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.
Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire: sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company.
me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with
chequer of words, and, I think, no other treaVal. I know it well, sir: you have an exby their bare liveries, that they live by your sure to give your followers; for it appears
Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health :
Val.Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a son?
Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deThe honour and regard of such a father, [serves Duke, You know him well? [infancy
Val. I knew him as myself; for from our We have convers'd,and spent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time,
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make
[Exit Duke. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship [tress Had come along with me, but that his misDid hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd Upon some other pawn for fealty. [them Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still. [being blind, Si. Nay, then he should be blind; and, How could he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of [all. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink.
Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. [beseech you, Val. Welcome, dear Protens!--Mistress, I Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a
| I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs;
Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary
know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus,but that life is alter'd now: I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, [me With nightly tears, and daily heart sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled [sorrow. And made them watchers of mine own heart's O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; And hath so humbled me, as I confess, There is no woe to his correction, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! Now, no discourse, except it be of love; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love. [eye:
Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your
Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon.
I will not flatter her. for love delights in [pills; Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter And I must minister the like to yon.
Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not Yet let her be a principality, [divine, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Pro. Except my mistress. Val. Sweet, except not any; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour,To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.
Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? [nothing Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is To her, whose worth makes other worthies She is alone. [nothing; [mine own;
Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
needs must use;
Pro. I will.—
Even as one heat another heat expels,
fr as one nail by strength drives out another,
SCENE V. The same. A street.
Enter SPEED and LAUNCE. Spred. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan.
Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia?
Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.
Speed. But shall she marry him?
Speed. How then? Shall he marry her?
Speed. What, are they broken?
Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter with them?
Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.
Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
Laun. What a block art thou, that thou
Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee,
Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.
Speed. The conclusion is, then, that it will. Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.
Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. Launce, how say'st thou, that thy master is be come a notable lover?
Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me.
Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.
Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not thongh he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;
Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. But there I leave to love, where I should love.
• On further knowledge.