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.

Begone: I will not hear thy vain excuse;

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit Duke. Val. And why not death, rather than living torment?

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?
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.
I fly not death, to fly this deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter Proteus and Launce.

Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out.

Launce. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on 's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Launce. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike?
Pro. Who wouldst thou strike?

Launce. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,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, untuneable, and bad.

Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!

What is your news?

Launce. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanished.
Pro. That thou art banish'd: O! that is the news:

From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend.
Val. O! I have fed upon this woe already,

And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offered 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,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
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.

Pro. Cease 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,
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the Northgate.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
Val. O, my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine.

[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. Launce. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave; but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love; yet I 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 what woman, I will not tell myself.

Enter Speed.

S. How now, Signor Launce! what news with your mastership? Launce. With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.

Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What news, then, in your paper?

Launce. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.

Speed. Why, man, how black?

Launce. Why, as black as ink.

Speed. Let me read them.

Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read.

Speed. Thou liest; I

can.

Launce. I will try thee.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.
Launce. There, and St Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed. Imprimis: She can milk.”

Launce. Ay, that she can.

Speed. "Item: She brews good ale."

Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing of your

heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. "Item: She can sew."

Launce. That's as much as to say,-Can she so?

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. "Item: She doth talk in her sleep."

Launce. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. Speed. "Item: She is slow in words."

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

Speed. "Item: She is proud."

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

Speed. "Item: She hath no teeth."

Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

Speed. "Item: She is curst."2

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

Speed. "Item: She will often praise her liquor."

Launce. 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."

Launce. 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. What's next?

66

Speed. Item: She hath more faults than hairs,”—
Launce. That's monstrous: 0, that that were out!

Speed-" and more wealth than faults."

Launce. Why that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,Speed. What then?

Launce. Why, then will I tell thee,-that thy master stays for thee at the North-gate.

Speed. For me?

Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for a

better man than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Launce. Thou must run to him; for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn.

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? plague of your loveletters.

[Exit. Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets.-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.

SCENE II.-THE SAME.

AN APARTMENT IN THE DUKE'S PALACE.

Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind.

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you, Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me most; 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
Trenched 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?

[Exit.

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 perseveres 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. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do; "Tis an ill office for a gentleman;

Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word can not 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,

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 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.
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,