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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 cave,1
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. 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


And give some evening music to her ear.

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. Whom? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.
Thu. I thank you for your own.
Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Now, gentlemen,

Enter Host and JULIA (in boy's clothes), behind. Host. Now, my young guest; methinks you're allycholly: I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. Host. Come, we'll have you merry. I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentlemen 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?

Host. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em.


Who is Silvia? what is she,

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. [Music plays again.3
Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music.
Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would not 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.

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 you not: I will so plead,
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At St. Gregory's well.

Thu. Farewell. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.
Enter SILVIA 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 would 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?
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?
[Music plays. 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,
And 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.

That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise as free,


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.

1 crews: in f. e. 2 is she: in f. e. 3 This direction is not in f. e.

Jul. [Aside.] 'T were false, if I should speak it; 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 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.
Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence;

Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.
Jul. [Aside.] He heard not that.

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

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Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think, 't is as a present to mistress Silvia from my master, and I almost day.

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Same.


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

Enter SILVIA above, 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, 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 abhors.
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,

came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies. I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon 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 hang'd for 't: sure as I live, he had suffer'd for 't. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself 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 chamber smelt him. "Out with the dog!" says one; "what cur is that ?" says another; "whip him out," says the third; "hang him up," says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: "Friend," quoth I; "do you mean to whip the dog ?" "Ay, marry, do I,” quoth he. "You do him the more wrong," quoth I; "'t was I did the thing you wot of." He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd for 't: thou think'st not of this now.-Nay, I remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia. Did not I bid 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. Jul. In what you please: I will do what I can. Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How, now, you whoreson peasant!

Where have you been these two days loitering:

Launce. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog

Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues. you bade me.
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, And the most true affections that you bear;*

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

Pro. But she receiv'd my dog?

Launce. No, indeed, did she not. brought him back again.

1 From the Saxon haligdome, holy place or kingdom. 2 Injunction. 3 Compassionate. 4 This line is not in f. e.

Here have I

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Pro. What! didst thou offer her this cur1 from me? | One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Launce. Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow. me by a hangman boy2 in the market-place; and then I offer'd her my 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, Or ne'er return again into my sight. Away, I say! Stayest thou to vex me here? A slave that still an end3 turns me to shame.


Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 't is no trusting to yond foolish lowt;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour,
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee:
Deliver it to madam Silvia.

She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me.

Jul. It seems, you lov'd not her, to leave her token. She's dead, belike?


Not so I think, she lives.

Jul. Alas!

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A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.

Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him,
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.

This ring I gave him when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will,
And now am I (unhappy messenger!)

To plead for that which I would not obtain;
To carry that which I would have refus'd;

To praise his faith which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true confirmed love,

But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter SILVIA, attended.

Gentlewoman, good day. I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia.

Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil. From whom?

Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam.
Sil. O he sends you for a picture.

Jul. Ay, madam.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. [A Picture brought. Go, give your master this: tell him from me,

1 Not in f. e. 2 the hangman's boys: in f. e. 3 Continually.

Jul. Madam, so please you to peruse this letter.— Pardon me, madam, I have unadvis'd [Giving a letter. Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:

This is the letter to your ladyship. [Giving another letter.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.

[Giving it back.

I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know, they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths, which he will break,
As easily as I do tear his paper.

Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For, I have heard him say, a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
Jul. She thanks you.

Sil. What say'st thou ?

Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. Sil. Dost thou know her?

Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself: To think upon her woes, I do protest,

That I have wept a hundred several times.

Sil. Belike, she thinks, that Proteus hath forsook her.
Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow.
Sil. Is she not passing fair?

Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is.
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Sil. How tall was she?


Jul. About mý stature; for, at pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore, I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep a-good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.

Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.-
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!—

I weep myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth; there is my purse: I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.

Jul. And she shall thank you for 't, if e'er you know

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful!
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture. Let me see: I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers;

4 5 Not in f. e. 6 In good earnest.

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