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Pant. Come; come, away, man: I was sent to call thee.
Launce. Sir, call me what thou dar’st.
Pant. Wilt thou go?
Launce. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.

you are not ?

Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED.
Sil. Servant.
Val. Mistress.
Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.
Val. Of my mistress, then.
Speed. 'Twere good you knock'd him.
Sil. Servant, you are sad.
Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem

you

that Val. Haply, I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I that I am not? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary ? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly & ? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly'. Thu. How? Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio ? do you change colour ? Val. Give him leave, madam : he is a kind of cameleon.

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in

your air.

8

how QUOTE you my folly?] To "quote" is to note or observe. See Vol. iv. p. 568; Vol. v. p. 116, &c. Valentine in his answer plays upon the word, which was then pronounced coat.

- I'll double your folly.] The reading of the corr. fo. 1632 is 'Twill double your folly,” but we may doubt how far it is to be adopted.

9

Val. You have said, sir.
Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.
Val. I know it well, sir : you always end ere you begin.
Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.
Val. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, servant ?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company.

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, sir : you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father.

Enter the DUKE.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your

friends
Of much good news?
Val.

My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman ?

Val. Ay, my good lord; I know the gentleman
To be of wealth and worthy estimation',
And not without desert so well reputed.

Duke. Hath he not a son ?

1 To be of WEALTH and worthy estimation,] The folios have worth for so wealth ;” but worth is mere tautology, for how could Don Antonio be

“ And not without desert so well reputed,” if he were not of worth ? Valentine first refers to Antonio's “ wealth” and then to his worth and estimation. The same misprint, only of the superlative degree, is committed in Fletcher's “Mad Lover," A. v. sc. 4 (edit. Dyce, vi. 210), where Memnon exclaims,

“You have given me here a treasure to enrich me,

Would make the wealthiest king alive a beggar. The Rev. Mr. Dyce allows worthiest to remain in the text, instead of "wealthiest,” which the context shows must have been the poet's word: it was not “the worthiest king alive,” but “ the wealthiest king alive," who was to be made a beggar in comparison with the treasure given to the hero. The correction is too obvious to need enforcement, and the wonder is that no editor ever saw the imperative demand for alteration : Mr. Dyce is no more to blame than all who have gone before him. See also “ Twelfth-Night,” A. iii. sc. 3, Vol. ii. p. 691.

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well ?

Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy
We have convers’d, and spent our hours together :
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days:
His years but young, but his experience old ;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow)
He is complete, in feature and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a-while.
I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.

Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth.
Silvia, I speak to you ; and you, sir Thurio :
For Valentine, I need not cite' him to it.
I'll send him hither to you presently.

Erit DUKE.
Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship,
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them, Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you ?

Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all.

Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself :
Upon a homely object love can wink.

I need not cite] i. e. Incite. In “Henry VI., Part III.,” A. ii. sc. 1, Vol. iv. p. 136, “ cites may rather be thought to mean calls—" It cites us, brother, to the field.”

2

Enter PROTEUS.

Sil. Have done, have done. Here comes the gentleman.

[Exit ThuRIO. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !—Mistress, I beseech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.

Val. Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.

Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Val. Leave off discourse of disability.Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.

Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed.
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome ?
Pro.

That you are worthless.

Re-enter THURIO.

Thu. Madam, my lord, your father, would speak with

you.
Sil. I wait upon his pleasure: come, sir Thurio,
Go with me.—Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs ;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

[Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and SPEED. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?

3 Re-enter Thurio.] All editors, from Theobald downwards, make “a Servant” enter here, and not Thurio, to whom the old copies assign the sentence, “ Madam, my lord, your father, would speak with you.” They say also that the commencement of Silvia's answer is “ addressed to two persons.” This is by no means clear : “ I wait upon his pleasure: come, sir Thurio, go with me,” is spoken to Thurio with more propriety than to two distinct persons. It is much more likely that Thurio went out on the entrance of Proteus, and returned with the message of the Duke to his daughter: the economy of our old stage, with many characters and with few performers, did not allow the waste of an actor in the part of a mere message-carrier. The great probability, therefore, is that the folios are right, and that Thurio is employed from the Duke. VOL. I.

1

Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much com

mended. Val. And how do your's ? Pro.

I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady, and how thrives your love?

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you:
I know, you joy not in a love-discourse.

Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning love;
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
Oh, gentle Proteus ! love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!
Now, no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the

very

naked name of love.
Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this the idol that you worship so ?

Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint ?
Pro. No, but she is an earthly paragon.
Val. Call her divine.
Pro. I will not flatter her.
Val. Oh! flatter me, for love delights in praises.

Pro. When I was sick you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.

Val. Then speak the truth by her: if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.

Pro. Except my mistress. .

Val. Sweet, except not any,
Except thou wilt except against my love.

Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own?

Val. And I will help thee to prefer her, too: She shall be dignified with this high honour,To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud,

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