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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 kiss'd 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. It's no matter for tbat, so she sleep not in her talk.
Speed. Iten), She is slow in words
Laun. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.
Speed. Item, She is proud.
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 crusts.
Speed. Item, She is curst.
Laun. Well; the best is, she hath uo teeth to bite. * 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.
Speed. Item. She hath more hair than nit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.
• Licentious in language.
Laun. 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,
Laun. More hair than wit it may be; I'll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and there. fore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?
Speed. And more faults than hairs,
Laun. Why, that word makes the faults graciouse: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,
Speed. What then?
Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,--that thy ma-, ster stays for thee at the north gate.
Speed. For me?
Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee.
Speed. And must I go to him?
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!
[Erit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him. self into secrets !-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.
The same. A room in the Duke's palace.
Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love
you, Now Valentine is banish'd from her siglt.
Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most.
Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Pro. Gone, my good lord.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.
Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to 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 persévers so.
Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine
Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.
Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: .
Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,
him, Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, 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; Because we know, on Valentine's report, You are already love's firm votary, And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access, Where you with Silvia may confer at large; For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, 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;
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 poets' 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 Tune a deploring dumpt; 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 pui in prac.
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.