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,1 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,
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently,

To sort 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.

Act Fourth,

SCENE I.-A FOREST NEAR MILAN.

Enter certain Outlaws.

[Exeunt.

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger.
2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.
Enter Valentine and Speed.

3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you. 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 is a proper man. Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose.

A man I am, cross'd with adversity;

My riches are these poor habiliments,

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 stay'd,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

2 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?1

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 friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction.

1 Out. We'll have him. Sir, a word.

S. Master, be one of them: it's an honourable kind of thievery. Val. Peace, villain!

2 Out. Tell us this: have you anything to take to!

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that some 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 lad,

An heir, and near allied 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 such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose, for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excused our lawless lives,-
And, partly, seeing you are beautifi'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?

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,

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. Come, go with us; we'll bring thee to our crews, And show thee all the treasure we have got, Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 2 Worshipful.

1 Languages.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-MILAN. THE COURT OF THE 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 window,
And give some evening music to her ear.

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. Who? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.

Enter, at a distance, Host, with 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.

Host. Come, we'll have you merry. I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for. Jul. But shall I hear him speak?

Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be music.

Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

Host. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em.

SONG.

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?

[Music plays.

Love doth to her ey s 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 me 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 heartstrings.

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.

Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

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

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.1

Jul. 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 Thu. and Musicians.

Silvia appears at her window.

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.

Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
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's 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,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

1 Reckoning.

That hast deceived 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.

"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 her's thence; Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Jul. 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 selr Is else devoted, I am but a shadow,

And to your shadow will I make true love.

Jul. 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.

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Silvia retires.

As wretches have o'er night,

[Exit Pro.

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 watched, and the most heaviest.

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!

Sil. Who calls?

Silvia appears at her window.

[Exit.