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The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that

Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This knight intends to steal away your daughter;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim? might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,3
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd

mean

Enter Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.

Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me awhile;

I am to break with thee of some affairs,

That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match

Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle

man

Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your grace have me to do in
this?

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor
(For long agone I have forgot to court:
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd;)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent

her.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con

tents her.

Send her another; never give her o'er; 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; a For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For, get 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

How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery be not aimed at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.5
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.

(1) Longed for. (2) Guess. (3) Tempted.

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That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window?

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made
cords,

To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

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To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self; a deadly banishment! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? of 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. fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: Tarry I here, I but attend on death; But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

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 every thing 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?

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it

Under a cloak, that is of any length.

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

Val. Ay, my good lord. Duke.

Then let me see thy cloak: I'll get me one of such another length.

Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my

lord.

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My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; And slaves they are to me, that send them flying: O, could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying.

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, While I, their king, that thither them impórtune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servants' fortune: I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should

be.

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.

Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from
[Exit Duke.

hence.

(1) Hinders.

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Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear

good news,

So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untunable, and bad. Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

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news;

From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. O, I have fed upon this wo already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd 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,

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
As if but now they waxed pale for wo
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.i

Pro. Čease to lament for that thou canst not
help,

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,

Act III.

grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Laun. There; and Saint Nicholas2 be thy speed!

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,-
Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.
Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so?
Speed. Item, She can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with
a wench, when she can knit him a stock?
Speed. Item, She can wash and scour.
Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not
be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, She is not to be kiss'd fasting, in respect of her breath.

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on.

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.
Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Ivices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virLaun. O villain, that set this down among her tue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north gate. Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! [Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet 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 that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid: yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel,-which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the cat-log [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only car-bite. ry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

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Speed. Let me read them.

and cannot be ta'en from her.
Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy,

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love

crusts.

Speed. Item, She is curst.

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

Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. 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.3

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not; for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,—
Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and

read.

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therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that
covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater
hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,-
Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.
Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra-

(3) Licentious in language.

cious: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as || By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
nothing is impossible,-
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say,
this weed her love from Valentine,

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. master stays for thee at the north gate. Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,

Speed. For me?

Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,

staid for a better man than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets!—I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's [Exit. SCENE II.-The same. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind.

correction.

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
kind;

Because we know, on Valentine's report,
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:-

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;

you,

You must lay lime,3 to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
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
Trenched2 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 persévers 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."

Duke. Ay, much 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 poet's 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 concert: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump;4 the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining griev-

ance.

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 prac

tice:

Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently

To sort5 some gentlemen well skill'd in music:
I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,
To give the onset to thy good advice.
Duke. About it, gentlemen.

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings.
Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you.
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. SCENE I-A forest, near Mantua. Enter

Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman; Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage
him,

Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,

Being entreated to it by your friend.

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,

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certain Out-laws.

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

Speed. 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.

3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we;

For he's a proper1 man.

Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 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.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose; Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,

A man I am, cross'd with adversity :
My riches are these poor habilaments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.
2 Out. Whither travel you?

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 staid,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

1 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 ?2

:

And show thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the palace. En-
ter 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,5
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-
dow,

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy; And give some evening music to her ear.

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: sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is 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 some of us are gentle

men,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful3 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, Whom, in my mood,4 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 beautified
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 consort?

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

We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,

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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. Now, gentlemen,

Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter Host, at a distance; 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

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