That thus, without advice, begin to love her!
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled so my reason's light,
That, when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.

SCENE II-A Street in Milan.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a Dog, L.

[Exit, L.

Lau. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am come with Sir Proteus to the court of Milan. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourestnatured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruelhearted cur shed one tear:-he is a stone, a very pebblestone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: why, my grandam, having no eyes, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it-this shoe is my father;-no, no, this left shoe is my mother;nay, that cannot be so neither;-yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole :-this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand :this hat is our Nan, black Nan, our maid ;-I am the dog: no, he is the dog, and I am myself.-Now come I to my father-Father, your blessing-now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping;-now come I to my mother;-Oh, that she could speak now like a woo'd woman!-well, I kiss her:-now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes :-now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ;—but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter SPEED, r.

Spe. (R.) Launce! What, my old friend, Launce! Welcome to Milan. What, in tears, man?

Lau. (L.) Only Crab and I, of all our family, in a strange place.

Spe. Come, Launce, dry thy tears.-By mine honesty, thou art welcome to Milan.

Lau. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always--that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never welcome to

a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say welcome.

Spe. Come on, you madcap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of fivepence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia?

Lau. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.

Spe. But shall she marry him?

Lau. No.

Spe. How then? shall he marry her?

Lau. No, neither.

Spe. What, are they broken?

Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish.

Spe. Why, then, how stands the matter with them? Will't be a match?

Lau. Ask my dog; if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will. Spe. The conclusion is, then, that it will.

Lau. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.

Spe. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is become a hot lover?

Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the alehouse, so; if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.

Spe. Why?

Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian; wilt thou go? Spe. At thy service.

[Exeunt, R.

SCENE III.-The Duke's Palace in Milan.

Enter PROTEUS, L.

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 e'en that power, which gave me first my oath,
Provokes me to this threefold perjury:

Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear.
O, sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken.
I will forget that Julia is alive,

Remembering that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'll hold my enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some falsehood us'd to Valentine :-
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber window;
Myself in counsel his competitor :

Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended flight
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter.
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me skill to plot this drift!

END OF ACT II.

[Exit, R.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-An Anteroom in the Duke's Palace, in Milan.

Enter PROTEUS, DUKE, THURIO, and Attendants, R. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about.

[Exeunt Thurio and Attendants, R. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover,

The law of friendship bids me to conceal :

But, when I call to mind your gracious favours

Done to me, undeserving as I am,

My duty pricks me on to utter that,

Which, else, no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know, you have determined to bestow her
On Thurio;

And, should she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to a timeless grave.

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care.
This love of theirs myself have often doubted;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim should err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd),
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hath now disclos'd to me:
And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

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;
For which the confident lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery may not be aim'd at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming. [Exit Proteus, L.

Enter VALENTINE, in a cloak, R.

Duke. (L.) Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Val. (R.) 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. Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward: And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; That now I am resolv'd to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in : Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; For me and my possessions she esteems not.

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 naught esteems my aged eloquence; Now, therefore, I would have thee for my tutor (For long agone I have forgot to court), 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. 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 greater.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you;

If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
Commend, and praise :-

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
It with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,

And kept so closely from resort of men,

That no man hath by day access to her.

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 by night recourse to her.

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 where I may find me such a ladder.