with the dog, fays one; what cur is that? fays another; whip him out, fays the third, hang him up, fays the Duke. I, having been acquainted with the fmell, before, knew it was Crab, and goes ine to the fellow that, whips, the dogs; friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay, marry do I, quoth, he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of... He makes no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many mafters would do this for their fervant? nay, I'll be fworn, I have fat in the ftocks for the puddings he hath stolen, otherwife he had been executed; I have stood on the pillory for the geefe he hath killed, otherwise he had fuffered for't. Thou thinkeft not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you ferved me, when I took my leave of Madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? when.. didit thou fee me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didit thou ever fee me do fuch a trick? Enter PROTHEUS and JULIA Pro. Sebaftian is thy name? I like thee well; And will employ thee in fome fervice prefently. Jul. In what you pleafe: I'll do, Sir, what I can... Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How now, you whore-fon peafant,.. Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, Sir, I carried Miltrels Silvia the dog you bade me. Pro. And what fays fhe to my little jewel? Laun. Marry, the fays your dog was a cur; and.. tells you, currifh thanks is good enough for fuch a prefent. Pro. But the received my dog? Laun. No, indeed, fhe did not fo; here have I brought him back again.. Pro. What, didft thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, Sir; the other fquirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boy in the market-place; and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift's the greater. 1 Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my fight. Away, I fay; ftayeft thou to vex me here? A flave, that, still an end, turns me to shame. [Exit Launce. Sebaftian, I have entertained thee,: Partly that I have need of fuch a youth, She loved me well delivered it to me.. Jul. It feems you loved not her, to leave her token: She's dead, belike. As Pro. Not fo: I think fhe lives. Jul. Alas! Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas? Jul. I cannot chufe but pity her. Pro. Wherefore fhouldft thou pity her? Jul. Because, methinks, that fhe loved you as well you do love your Lady Silvia: She dreams on him, that has forgot her love; You doat on her, that cares not for your love. "Tis pity love fhould be fo contrary; And, thinking on it, makes me cry, alas! Pro. Well, give her that ring, and give therewithal This letter; that's her chamber: tell my Lady, I claim the promife of her heav'nly picture. 3. [Exit Pro... Το To plead for that which I would not obtain; Lady, good day; I pray you, be my mean- Jul. From my master, Sir Protheus, Madam. Jul Ay, Madam. Sil. Urfula, bring my picture there. Go, give your Mafter this: tell him from me, Jul. Madam, may't please you to perufe this letter. Sii. I pray thee, let me look on that again. I will not look upon your master's lines; I know they're ftuffed with protestations, And full of new-found oaths; which he will break, As eafily as I do tear his paper. Jul. Madam, he fends your Ladyfhip this ring. Sil. The more flame for him that he fends it me; For I have heard him fay a thousand times, His Julia gave it him at his departure: Tho' his falle finger hath profaned the ring, Mine fhall not do his Julia fo much wrong. Jul. She thanks you. Sil. What fayest thou? Jul. I thank you, Madam, that you tender her; Poor Gentlewoman! my mafter wrongs her much. -Sil. Doft thou know her? Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself. To think upon her woes, I do protest That I have wept an hundred several times. Sil. Belike fhe thinks that Protheus hath forfook her. Jul. I think the doth; and that's her caufe of forrow. Sil. Is fhe not paffing fair? Jul. She hath been fairer, Madam, than fhe is. When she did think my master loved her well, She, in my judgment, was as fair as you: But fince the did neglect her looking-glafs, And threw her fun-expelling mask away, The air hath starved the roles in her cheeks,. And pinched the lily-tinature of her face, Jul. About my ftature: for at Pentecoft, I wept myself, to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purfe; I give thee this know her. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful. |