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 persevers 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 Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: [hate. Therefore, it must with circumstance be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend."

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to co: 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage Your slander never can endamage him; Therefore, the office is indifferent,

Being entreated to it by your friend.

[him,

Pro. 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 him,
Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
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, You are already love's firm votary,

[kind,

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.
Duke. 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 touch could 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: the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
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.

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.

I 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 door. 2 Out. Have you the tongues?

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 This fellow were a king for our wild faction! [friar, 1 Out. We'll have him:-Sirs, a word. Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Vai. 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 gentleSuch as the fury of ungovern'd youth Thrust from the company of awful men:

[men,

Myself was from Verona banished

For practising to steal away a lady,

An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

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

1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose; for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives;
And, partly, seeing you are beautify'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?

[consort?

3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our 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.

I Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 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 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, And show thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

SCENE II.-MILAN.

[Exeunt. The Court of the DUKE'S 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 win-
And give some evening music to her ear.

Enter THURIO and Musicians.

[dow,

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.-Now, gentleLet's tune, and to it lustily a while.

[men,

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

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

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 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.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music! ful. Ay, that change is the spite.

[thing?

Host. You would have them always play but one 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.

ful. 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 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?

[truth,

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's 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?

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,

C

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;
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.

Jul. [Aside.] 'Twere 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 hers thence; Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

Jul. [Aside.] He heard not that.

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.

Jul. [Aside.] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it.

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

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.

Pro.

As wretches have o'er night, That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt PROTEUS, and SILVIA, above.

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.

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.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

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-mor-
[row.
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 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 plagues.

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;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little what betideth me,

As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?

Sil.

This evening coming. Egl. Where shall I meet you? Sil.

At friar Patrick's cell,

Where I intend holy confession.

Egl. I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, Gentle lady.

Sil.

Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. [Exeunt EGLAMOUR, and SILVIA, above.

SCENE IV.-The Same.

Enter LAUNCE with his dog.

Launce. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him as a present to mistress Silvia from my master; and I 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 hanged for't: sure as I live, he had suffered for 't. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark!) a pissing while, but "Out with the dog!" all the chamber smelt him. 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, 'you mean to whip the dog?" "Ay, marry, do I," quoth he. "You do him the more wrong, quoth I; "'twas 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 killed, otherwise he had suffered for 't. Thou thinkest 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.-[To LAUNCE.] How, now, you whoreson peasant! Where have you been these two days loitering? Launce. Marry, Sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

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 received my dog?

Launce. No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What! didst thou offer her this from me? Launce. Ay, Sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the market-place; and then I offered her mine 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! Stay'st thou to vex me here?
A slave that still an end turns me to shame.
[Exit LAUNCE.

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout;
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 toShe's dead, belike?

Pro.

Jul. Alas!

Not so: I think, she lives.

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas?

Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.

Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

[ken.

Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well

As you do love your lady Silvia.

She dreams on him, that has forgot her love;

You dote on her, that cares not for your love.

'Tis pity, love should be so contrary; And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

Pro. Well, give her that ring; and therewithal This letter:--that's her chamber.-Tell my lady I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.

[Exit.

Jul. How many women would do such a message? Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd 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,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.-
[Gives a letter.

Pardon me, Madam; I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:
This is the letter to your ladyship. [Gives another.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
ful. It may not be; good Madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold. [Gives back the first letter.

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.

[Tears the second letter.
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?

ful. Almost as well as I do know myself: To think upon her woes, I do protest, That I have wept a hundred several times. [her. Sil. Belike, she thinks, that Proteus hath forsook ful. I think she doth; and that's her cause of Sil. Is she not passing fair? [sorrow. 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 my 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 Thesus' 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 beholden 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 Farewell. [her.

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

know her.

[Exit SILVIA, with Attendants.
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;
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are gray as glass; and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low; and mine's as high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respective in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form!
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,

I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, To make my master out of love with thee.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-MILAN. An Abbey.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

[Exit.

Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky;
And now it is about the very hour,

That Silvia at friar Patrick's cell should meet me.
She will not fail: for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time;
So much they spur their expedition.

See, where she comes!--[Enter SILVIA.] Lady, a happy evening!

SCENE II.-MILAN. A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA.

Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? Pro. O, Sir, I find her milder than she was; And yet she takes exceptions at your person. Thu. What, that my leg is too long?

Pro. No; that it is too little.

Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder.

Jul. [Aside.] But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes.

Thu. What says she to my face?
Pro. She says it is a fair one.

Thu. Nay then, the wanton lies; my face is black.
Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
Jul. [Aside.] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out
ladies' eyes;

For I had rather wink than look on them.

Thu. How likes she my discourse?

Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.

Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace?

Jul. [Aside.] But better, indeed, when you hold

Pro. Neither.

Duke. Why then,

She's fled unto that peasant Valentine;
And Eglamour is in her company.

'Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,

As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well; and guess'd that it was she.
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it:
Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not.
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence:
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain-foot,
That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled:
Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [Exit.