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Enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard: thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you'll lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.

Pant. What's the unkindest tide?

Launce. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou 'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth?'

Launce. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?

Launce. In thy tale.

Pant. In thy tail?

Launce. Lose the tied, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tide. Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs.

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.

SCENE IV.-Milan.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the DUKE's Palace.

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. 'T were good you knock'd him.

Sil. Servant, you are sad.

Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.

Thu. Seem you that you are not?

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 quote1 you my folly ?

Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well, then, 't will2 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.

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. 'T is 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. father.

Enter the Duke.

Here comes my

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,

1 Note or observe. 2 I'll in f. e. 3 worth in f. e.

And not without desert so well reputed.

Duke. Hath he not a son?

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, 't is 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.

[Exit 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 you out?

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.

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 yet did never 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. 1Re-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? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended.

Val. And how do yours?

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, and penitential groans,

With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;

1 Enter: in f.e

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. O, 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. O 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, Disdain to root the summer-smelling1 flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing. She is alone.

Pro. Then, let her alone.

Val. Not for the world. Why, man, she is mine

own;

And I as rich in having such a jewel,

As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

1 swelling in f. e.

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