Val. I was.

2 Out. For what offence?

Val. For that, which now torments me to rehearse: I kill'd a man, whofe death I much repent; But yet I flew him manfully in fight, Without falfe vantage or base treachery.

1 Out. Why ne'er repent it, if it were done fo. But were you banish'd for fo fmall a fault? Val. I was, and held me glad of fuch a doom. 1 Out. Have you the tongues?

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or elfe I often had been miferable.

3

Out. By the bare fcalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction.

1 Out. We'll have him. Sirs, a word. Speed. Mafter, be one of them: it's an honourable kind of thievery.

Val. Peace, villain.

2 Out. Tell us this; have you any thing to take to? Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that fome of us are gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth Thrust from the company of awful men; Myself was from Verona banish'd, For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and neice ally'd unto the Duke.

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman Whom, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.

1 Out. And I for fuch like petty crimes as these. But to the purpofe; for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; And, partly, feeing you are beautify'd With goodly fhape, and by your own report A linguift; and a man of fuch perfection, As we do in our quality much want;

2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, above the reft, we parley to you; VOL. I.

Are

Are you content to be our General ?
To make a virtue of neceffity,

And live, as we do, in the wilderness?

3 Out. What fay'ft thou? wilt thou be of our

confort ?

Say, ay; and be the captain of us all:

We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee;
Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 Out. But if thou fcorn our courtefie, thou dy'ft. 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 filly women, or poor paffengers.

3 Out. No, we deteft fuch vile bafe practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews. And fhew thee all the treafure we have got ; Which, with ourselves, fhall reft at thy difpofe. [Exeunt.

Changes to an open Place, under Silvia's
Apartment, in Milan.

Pro. A

Enter Protheus.

Lready I've been falfe to Valentine,

And now I must be as unjuft 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 proteft true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falfhood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forfworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd.

And,

And, notwithstanding all her fudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, fpaniel-like, the more fhe fpurns my love,
The more it grows, and fawneth on her still.

But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening mufick to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Muficians.

be

Thu. How now, Sir Protheus, are you crept
fore us?
Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love
Will creep in fervice 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 fake.

Thu. I thank you, for your own: now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it luftily a while.

Enter Hoft, and Julia in boy's cloaths.

Hoft. Now, my young gueft, methinks, you're allycholly: I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine hoft, because I cannot be merry. Hoft. Come, we'll have you merry; I'll bring you where you shall hear mufick, and fee the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But fhall I hear him speak?
Hoft. Ay, that you fhall.

Jul. That will be mufick.

Hoft. Hark, hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

Hoft. Ay; but peace, let's hear 'em.'

SONG.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? what is fhe,

That all our fwains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wife is fhe;

The heav'n fuch grace did lend her,
That he might admired be.

Is fhe 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 fing,

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To ber let us garlands bring.

Hoft. How now? are you fadder than you were
before? how do you, man? the mufick likes you not.
Jul. You mistake; the mufician likes me not.
Hoft. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays false, father.

Hoft. How, out of tune on the ftrings?

Jul. Not fo; but yet fo falfe, that he grieves my

very heart-ftrings.

Hoft. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a flow heart.

Hoft. I perceive, you delight not in mufick.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars fo.

Hoft. Hark, what fine change is in the mufick.
Jul. Ay, that change is the fpight.

Hoft. You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing.

But,

But, hoft, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talk on,
Often refort unto this gentlewoman?

Hoft. I tell you what Launce, his man,

z lov'd her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce?

told me, he

Hoft. Gone to feek his dog, which to-morrow, by his master's command, he muft carry for a prefent to his lady.

Jul. Peace, ftand afide, the company parts.

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will fo plead,
That you shall fay, my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At St. Gregory's well.

Thu. Farewel.

[Exeunt Thurio and Mufick.

E

IV.

SCEN

Silvia above, at her window.

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your mufick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Protheus, gentle lady, and your fervant. Sil. What is your will?

Pro. That I may compass yours.

Sil. You have your with; my will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou fubtle, perjur'd, falfe, difloyal man?
Think'ft thou, I am fo fhallow, fo conceitlefs,
To be feduced by thy flattery,

That haft deceiv'd fo many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.

I lov'd her out of all nick.] i. e. out of all count: that is, extravagantly. A phrafe taken from accounts when calculations were made by nicking on numbers upon a stick.