Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; And even that power, which gave me first my oath, Provokes me to this threefold perjury: Love bad me swear, and love bids me forswear. But there I leave to love, where I should love. If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; And Silvia, (witness heaven that made her air!) I will forget that Julia is alive, Enter JULIA, and LUCETTA. Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me : To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Jul. O know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. burns. The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Luc. Why, then your ladyship must cut your hair. Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings, Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? Jul. That fits as well, as-"Tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale ?" Why, even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favoured. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. not. Jul. Nay, that I will not. Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey, when you come, No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone. I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love, Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect; But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth: His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him! Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, SCENE I.-Milan. An Ante-chamber in the DUKE'S Palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile: We have some secrets to confer about. [Exit THURIO. Now. tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis cover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal; My duty pricks me on to utter that, down Which else no worldly good should draw from me. Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend, And with a corded ladder fetch her down; Duke. Upon mine honour he shall never know 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 gentleman 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; 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 contents her. Send her another; never give her o'er, For scorn at first makes after-love the more. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends Val. Why, then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, 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 of cords, To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, So bold Leander would adventure it. 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. "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 importune, 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? 66 Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:" "Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.— Thank me for this, more than for all the favours Will give thee time to leave our royal court, 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 tor ment? To die is to be banish'd from myself, Enter PROTEUS, and LAUNCE. Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out. Pro. What seest thou? Launce. Can nothing speak? master, shall 1 strike? Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike? Pro. Villain, forbear. 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 is a proclamation that you are vanish'd. 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 banished? 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, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: Val. No more; unless the next word that thou Have some malignant power upon my life: Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou see'st my boy, 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. 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; 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 cate-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 carry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, "She can milk," look you; a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. Enter SPEED. Speed. How now, signior 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. Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. Speed. Thou liest, I can. Launce. I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee? Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Launce. O, illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother. This proves that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. 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. Item, "She can knit." Launce. 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." Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and scour'd. Speed. Item, "She can spin.” Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. Speed. Item, "She hath many nameless virtues." Launce. 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. Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, "She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath." Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet mouth." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. 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 vir tue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue. Speed. Item, "She is proud." Launce. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt: the hair, that Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, covers the wit, is more than the wit, for the greater 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." 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: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, " She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults." Launce. 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," hides the less. What's next? Speed. "And more faults than hairs,”— Launce. That's monstrous! O, 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? pox of your love-letters! [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. [Exit. |