D. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. V. A woman sometimes scorns what best conSend her another; never give her o'er, [tents her. For scorn 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 to have you gone, For why!-the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; Forget you gone,' she doth not mean away.' Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black,say they have angels'faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, And kept severely from resort of men, That no man hath access by day to her.

Val. Why, then I would resort to her by night. D. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept That no man hath recourse to her by night. [safe, V. What lets, but one may enter at her window? D. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.

V. Why, then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, 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 everything that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone. How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

V. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear Under a cloak that is of any length. [it Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the Val. Ay, my good lord. turn? Duke. Then, let me see thy cloak: I'll get me one of such another length. [lord. Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my D. 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 ?-"To Silvia!"

And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. "My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; [flying:

And slaves they are to me, that send them O! could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying. [them; My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest While I, their king, that thither them [bless'd them, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath Because myself do want my servant's forI curse myself, for they are sent by me, [tune. That they should harbour where their lord should be.'

importune,

What's here?

"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 on thee?
Go, base intruder! over-weening 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.
Begone: 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
To die is to be banish'd from myself, [torment?
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is 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.
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly this deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter Proteus and Launce.

Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out. Launce. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

Pro. That thou art baish'd: O! that is the news: [friend. From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy Val. O! I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offered 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:

But neither bended knees, 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, her 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. [help,
Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst 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;
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 haste, and meet me at the North-gate.

P. 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 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.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, Signor Launce! what news with your mastership?

L. 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?

L. The black'st news that ever thou heard'st.
Speed. Why, man, how black?
Launce. Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

L. Fie on thee, jolt-head!1 thou canst not read.

Speed. Thou liest; I can.
Launce. I will try thee.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.
Launce. There, and St Nicholas be thy speed?
Speed. "Imprimis: She can milk.'
Launce. Ay, that she can.

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. Here follow her vices,

Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. 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."

Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, 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."2

L. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

S. "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."

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 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.

D. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do; "Tis an ill office for a gentleman; Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your goodword can not advantage Your slander never can endamage him: [him, Therefore, the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend.

P. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it, By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him. But say this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from Lest it should ravel and be good to none, [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 Because we know, on Valentine's report, [kind, You are already Love's firm votary,

And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access

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,
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
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;
You must lay lime to tangle her desires
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
D. Ay; 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
That may discover such integrity:

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touchcould 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 consort: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump,1 the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining griev-
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in
love.

[ance.

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.

Enter Valentine and Speed.

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

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

Sp. 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. [proper man. 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we: for he is a Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to 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?

[lose.

Val. To Verona.

1 Out. Whence came you? Val. From Milan.

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?
Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might
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?

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?1

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy.

Or else I often had 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. Sir, a word. Speed. Master, be one of them: it's an honourable kind of thievery.

Val. Peace, villain!

2 Out. Tell us this! have you anything to take Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

[to?

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful2 men:
Myself was from Verona banish'd,
For practising to steal away a lad,
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.
10. And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose,-for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excused our lawless lives,-
And, partly, seeing you are beautifi'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 Say ay, and be the captain of us all. [consort? We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, Love thee as our Commander and our King. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

[offer'd,

SCENE II.-MILAN. THE COURT OF THE

PALACE.

Enter Proteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. Under the colour of commending him, 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 lov'd: And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips, The least whereof would quell 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 winAnd give some evening music to her ear. [dow,

Enter Thurio and Musicians.

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.

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?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentleLet's tune, and to it lustily a while. [men,

Enter, at a distance, Host, with Julia in boy's clothes.

Host. Now, my young guest; methinks you're allycholly: I pray you, why is it? [merry. Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be 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.

[Music plays.

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?
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 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.
Host. How now! are you sadder than you were
before? How do you, man? the music likes me 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?

J. 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.1

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek 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 Thu. and Musicians.

Silvia appears at her window.

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.
Who is that, that spake?
[truth,
Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's
You would quickly learn to know him by his
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.
[voice.
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your
Sil. What's your will?
[servant.
Pro.
That I may compass yours.
Sil. You have your wish: my will is even this,
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 seduced by thy flattery,

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,
Any by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

Jul. "Twere false, if I should speak it; For, I am sure, she is not buried.

S. 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 importunacy?

Pro. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave Assure thyself, my love is buried.

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. S. 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.

1 Reckoning.

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 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 will I make true love.

J. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, de-
And make it but a shadow, as I am. [ceive it,
Sil. I am very loath 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.
[Silvia retires.
Pro.
As wretches have o'er night.
That wait for execution in the morn. [Exit Pro.
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 'tis almost day.

J. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watched, and the most heaviest. [Exit.
SCENE III.-THE SAME.
Enter Eglamour.

Egl. This is the hour that Madam Silvia There's some great matter she'd employ me in,Entreated me to call, and know her mind. Madam, madam!

Silvia appears at her window.
Sil. Who calls?
Egl.

Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good

morrow.

Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful,1 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 thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
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.
I 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,
To keep me from a most unholy match
Which Heaven and Fortune still reward with
I do desire thee, even from a heart [plagues,
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.

1 Tender.