That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her win-
dow?

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
cords,

To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

Val. And why not death, rather than living
torment ?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself,
And Sílvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
of 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.
fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

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.

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may

bear it

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 hither 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?

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! overweening 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.

Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from
bence.
[Exit Duke.

(1) Hinders.

I

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, untunable, 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?

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are

vanish'd.

Pro. That thou art banish'd, O, that's the

news;

From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. O, I have fed upon this wo already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

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,

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
As if but now they waxed pale for wo
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.
Fal. 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.1

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 north gate.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!

grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Laun. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,-Bless-
ing of your heart, you brew good ale.
Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so?
Speed. Item, She can knit.

Laun. 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.

Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. Laun. 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.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on.

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.
Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. Lan. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He Laun. O villain, that set this down among her lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet I vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck virtue: I pray thee, out with'tg and place it for that from me; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a her chief virtue. woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid: yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 'tís 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 cat-log crusts. [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, Speed. Item, She is curst. She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only car-bite. ry; 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?

Laun. 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?

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

Speed. Why, man, how black?

Laun. Why, as black as ink.

Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy,
and cannot be ta'en from her.
Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.
Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love

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

Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. 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.

Laun. 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 I cannot help. Well, proceed.

more faults than hairs, and more wealth than Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and faults.

and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine,

rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that

read.

covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,

Laun. That's monstrous: 0, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra

(3) Licentious in language.

cious: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
nothing is impossible,-
Speed. What then?

She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. master stays for thee at the north gate." Speed. For me?

Speed. And must I go to him?

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,

Laun. For thee? ay; wno art thou? he hath Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, staid for a better man than thee. 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;

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love-letters!

Exit. Because we know, on Valentine's report, Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my You are already love's firm votary, letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- And cannot soon revolt and change your mind, self into secrets!-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's Upon this warrant shall you have access, correction. [Exit. Where you with Silvia may confer at large; For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, SCENE II.-The same. A room in the Duke's Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you; palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus be-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;

hind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,

you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd 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
Trench'd 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.

By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

Duke. Ay, much 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 poet's sinews;
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 concert: to their instruments
so.-Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence.
Will well become such sweet complaining griev

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
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. 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. SCENE Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do. 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman;

Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot 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,
(1) Graceful.
(3) Bird-lime.

(2) Cut.

ACT IV.

I-A forest, near Mantua.
certain Out-laws.

[Exeunt.

Enter

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;

(4) Mournful elegy, (5) Choose out.

Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. That all the travellers do fear so much. 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we are offer'd.

SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the palace. Enter Proteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might Under the colour of commending him,

Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter Host, at a distance; and 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

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?

Is she kind, as she is fair?'

For beauty lives with kindness :
Love doth to her eyes 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 you 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?

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.

[Aside

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 importúnacy?

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.

[Aside. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdúrate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,

Jul. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my The picture that is hanging in your chamber;

very heart-strings.

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 loved her out of all nick.'

Silvia appears above, 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'd 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 is your will?

Pro.

That I may compass yours.

To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep;
For, since the substance of your perfect self
is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow I will make true love.
Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure,
deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside,

Sil. I am very loth 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.

As wretches have o'er-night, That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above. 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 watch'd, and the most heaviest

[Exeunt.

3

Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
I am thus early come, to know what service
According to your ladyship's impose,
Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this,It is your pleasure to command me in.
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 seduc'd by thy flattery,

That hast deceiv'd 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;

Beyond all reckoning.
Holy dame, blessed lady

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman
(Think not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd."
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near your heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,

(3) Injunction, command.

(4) Pitiful.