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SCENE VII.--Verona. A 'Room in JULIA's House.

With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots :

To be fantastic, may become a youth

Of greater time than I shall show to be.
Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your
And, e'en in kind love, I do conjure thee,

breeches ? Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

Jul. That fits as well, as—" tell me, good my lord, Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,

What compass will you wear your farthingale ?" To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,

Why, even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. How, with my honour, I may undertake

Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, A journey to my loving Proteus.

madam. Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long.

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta ! that will be ill-favour'd. Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps,

Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Much less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly; Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have And when the flight is made to one so dear,

What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus.

But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? Jul. O! know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's I fear me, it will make me scandaliz’d. food ?

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. Pity the dearth that I have pined in,

Jul. Nay, that I will not. By longing for that food so long a time.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,

If Proteus like your journey, when you come, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone. As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear. But qualify the fire's extreme rage,

A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. And instances as infinite of love,

Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. The current, that with gentle murmur glides,

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect; But, when his fair course is not hindered,

But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;

His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; And so by many winding nooks he strays

His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. With willing sport to the widet ocean.

Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to Then, let me go, and hinder not my course.

him! I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, And make a pastime of each weary step,

To bear a hard opinion of his truth: Till the last step have brought me to my love; Only deserve my love by loving him, And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,

And presently go with me to my chamber, A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

To take a note of what I stand in need of, Luc. But in what habit will you go along?

To furnish me upon my loving journey. Jul. Not like a woman, for I would prevent All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, The loose encounters of lascivious men.

My goods, my lands, my reputation; Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds

Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. As may beseem some well-reputed page.

Come; answer not, but to it presently: Luc. Why, then your ladyship must cut your hair. I am impatient of my tarriance.

[Exeunt Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,


SCENE I.—Milan. An Ante-chamber in the DUKE's Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know you have determin'd to bestow her

On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;

And should she thus be stol'n away from you,
Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile :

It would be much vexation to your age. We have some secrets to confer about.-Exit THURIO. Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? To cross my friend in his intended drift,

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, Than, by concealing it, heap on your head The law of friendship bids me to conceal;

A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. Done to me, undeserving as I am,

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, My duty pricks me on to utter that,

Which to requite, command me while I live. Which else no worldly good should draw from me. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Know, worthy Prince, sir Valentine, my friend, Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep, This night intends to steal away your daughter: And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid

1 wild: in f, e. 2 longing: in f. e.


Sir Valentine her company, and my court;

Send her another; never give her o'er, But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,

For scorn at first makes after-love the more. And so unworthily disgrace the man,

If she do frown, it is not in hate of you, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd)

But rather to beget more love in you: I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find

If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone, That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.

For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. And, that thou may’st perceive my fear of this, Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, For “ get you gone," she doth not mean, "away." I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,

Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; The key whereof myself have ever kept;

Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. How he her chamber-window will ascend,

Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends And with a corded ladder fetch her down

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, For which the youthful lover now is gone,

And kept severely from resort of men, And this way comes he with it presently,

That no man hath access by day to her. Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.

Val. Why, then I would resort to her by night. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, That my discovery be not aimed at;

That no man hath recourse to her by night. For love of you, not hate unto my friend,

Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window ? Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it That I had any light from thee of this.

Without apparent hazard of his life. Pp. Adieu, my lord: sir Valentine is coming. [Exit. Val. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, Enter VALENTINE,!' in his cloak.

To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger

So bold Leander would adventure it. That stays to bear my letters to my friends,

Drike. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, And I am going to deliver them.

Advise me where I may have such a ladder. Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that. Val. The tenor of them doth but signify

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, My health, and happy being at your court.

That longs for every thing that he can come by. Duke. Nay, then no matter: stay with me awhile. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. I am to break with thee of some affairs

Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone. That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. How shall I best convey the ladder thither ? 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Under a cloak that is of any length.

Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn ?
Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman Val. Ay, my good lord.
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities


Then, let me see thy cloak: Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter.

I'll get me one of such another length. Cannot your grace win her fancy to him ?

Val. Why any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. Duke. No, trust me : she is peevish, sullen, froward,

Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ?-Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.-Neither regarding that she is my child,

What letter is this same? What's here? To Silvia." Nor fearing me as if I were her father :

And here an engine fit for my proceeding! And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers

[Ladder and letter fall out.? Upon advice hath drawn my love from her;

I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. Reads. And, where I thought the remnant of mine age

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ; Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, And slaves they are to me, that send them flying: I now am full resolv'd to take a wife,

O! could their master come and go as lightly, And turn her out to who will take her in:

Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying. Then, let her beauty be her wedding-dower;

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; For me and my possessions she esteems not.

While I, their king, that thither them importune, Val. What would your grace have me to do in this ? Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them, Duke. There is a lady in Milano? here,

Because myself do want my servant's fortune. Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,

I curse myself, for they are sent by me, And nought esteems my aged eloquence :

That they should harbour where their lord should be." Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,

What's here? (For long agone I have forgot to court;

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee :') Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd)

'T is so: and here's the ladder for the purpose. How, and which way, I may bestow myself,

Why, Phaëton, (for thou art Merops' son) To be regarded in her sun-bright eye,

Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words. And with thy daring folly burn the world? Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee ? More than quick words do move a woman's mind. Go, base intruder; over-weening slave:

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, Val. A woman sometime scorns what best contents And think my patience, more than thy desert her.


Is privilege for thy departure hence. 1 in his cloak : not in f. e. 2 a lady, sir, in Milan here : in f. e.

3 This direction is not in f. e.

Thank me for this, more than for all the favours Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee: As if but now they waxed pale for woe :
But if thou linger in my territories

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, ,
Longer than swiftest expedition

Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,

Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love But Valentine, if he be ta’en, inust die.
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.

Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
Begone : I will not hear thy vain excuse;

When she for thy repeal was suppliant, But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. That to close prison he commanded her,

[Exit DUKE. With many bitter threats of 'biding there. Val. And why not death, rather than living torment ? Val. No more; unless the next word that thou To die is to be banish'd from myself,

speak'st And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,

Have some malignant power upon my life: Is self from self; a deadly banishment.

If so, I pray thee, breathe it in my ear, What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?

As ending anthem of my endless dolour. What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, Unless it be, to think that she is by,

And study help for that which thou lamentest. And feed upon the shadow of perfection.

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Except I be by Silvia in the night,

Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; There is no music in the nightingale;

Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, There is no day for me to look upon.

And manage it against despairing thoughts. She is my essence; and I leave to be,

Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence; If I be not by her fair influence

Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.

Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:

The time now serves not to expostulate : Tarry I here, I but attend on death;

Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate,
But fly I hence, I fly away from life.

And, ere I part with thee, confer at large

Of all that may concern thy love affairs.
Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out. As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Launce. So-ho! so-ho!

Regard thy danger, and along with me.
Pro. What seest thou ?

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north-gate. head, but 't is a Valentine.

Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. Pro. Valentine ?

Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine ! Val. No,

[Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Pro. Who then ? his spirit ?

Launce. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have Val. Neither.

the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave; but Pro. What then ?

that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not Val. Nothing.

now, that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love; Launce. Can nothing speak ? master, shall I strike ? but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me, nor Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike ?

who 't is I love; and yet 't is a woman : but what Launce. Nothing.

woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkPro. Villain, forbear.

maid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips : Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,- yet 't is a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, a for wages. She hath more qualities than a waterword.

spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian. Here is Val. My ears are stopp’d, and cannot hear good news, the cat-log [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

Imprimis, "She can fetch and carry." Why, a horse Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.

carry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, Val. Is Silvia dead ?

She can milk;" look you, a sweet virtue in a maid Pro. No, Valentine.

with clean hands. Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia !

Enter SPEED. Hath she forsworn me?

Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news with Pro. No, Valentine.

your mastership? Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me! Launce. With my master's ship? why, it is at sea. What is your news?

Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. Launcé. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are What news, then, in your paper ? vanish’d.

Launce. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st. Pro. That thou art banish'd : 0! that is the news, Speed. Why, man, how black? From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend. Launce. Why, as black as ink. Val. O! Í have fed upon this woe already,

Speed. Let me read them. And now excess of it will make me surfeit.

Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. Doth Silvia know that I am banished ?

Speed. Thou liest, I can. Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,

runce. I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot (Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force)

thee? A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears :

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Those at her father's churlish feet she tender’d, Launce. O, illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy With them, upon her knees, her humble self;

grandmother. This proves that thou canst not read.


Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy paper. Well, I 'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing
Launce. There, and saint Nicholas be thy speed ! is impossible,
Speed. Imprimis, “She can milk.”

Speed. What then ?
Launce. Ay, that she can.

Launce. Why, then will I tell thee,--that thy master Speed. Item, “She brews good ale."

stays for thee at the north-gate. Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,--Blessing Speed. For me? of your heart, you brew good ale.

Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou ? he hath Speed. Item, "She can sew."

stay'd for a better man than thee. Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so ? Speed. And must I go to him ? Speed. Item, “She can knit.”

Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd Launce. What need a man care for a stock with a so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. wench, when she can knit him a stock ?

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner ? pox of your Speed. Item, "She can wash and scour.


[Exit, running. Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my wash'd and scour'd.

letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself Speed. Item, “She can spin."

into secrets. I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's corLaunce. Then may I set the world on wheels, when rection.

[Exit. she can spin for her living.

SCENE II.-The Same. An Apartment in the Speed. Item, “She hath many nameless virtues.”

DUKE's Palace. Launce. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues;

Enter DUKE and THURIO. that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you, Speed. Here follow her vices.

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis’d me most; Speed. Item, "She is not to be kissed fasting, in Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me, respect of her breath."

That I am desperate of obtaining her. Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure breakfast. Read on.

Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet mouth.''

Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, Speed. Item, “ She doth talk in her sleep."

And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.Launce. It's no matter for that, so she slip not in

Enter PROTEUS. her talk.

How now, sir Proteus ! Is your countryman, Speed. Item, "She is slow in words."

According to our proclamation, gone ? Launce. O villain! that set this down among her Pro. Gone, my good lord. vices ? To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. I pray thee, out with 't, and place it for her chief virtue. Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. Speed. Item, “She is proud."

Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so. Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee, and cannot be ta’en from her.

(For thou hast shown surea sign of good desert) Speed. Item, “She hath no teeth."

Makes me the better to confer with thee. Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace,

Let me not live to look upon your grace. Speed. Item, "She is curst.?

Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. The match between sir Thurio and my daughter. Speed. Item, “She will often praise her liquor." Pro. I do, my lord.

Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall : if she will Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant not. I will; for good things should be praised.

How she opposes her against my will. Speed. Item, “She is too liberal."

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not, for What might we do to make the girl forget that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio ? that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine Speed. Item, “She hath more hair than wit, and With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; more faults than hairs, and more wealth than Three things that women highly hold in hate. faults."

Duke. Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate. Launce. Stop there; I'll have her : she was mine, Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Therefore, it must, with circumstance, be spoken Rehearse that once more,

By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. Speed. Item, “She hath more hair than wit,”.

Duke. Then, you must undertake to slander him. Launce. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore 'T is an ill office for a gentleman, it is more than the salt: the hair, that covers the wit, Especially, against his very friend. is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him, What's next?

Your slander never can endamage him: Speed. .“ And more faults than hairs,"

Therefore, the office is indifferent, Launce. That's monstrous: 0, that that were out! Being entreated to it by your friend. Speed. _" And more wealth than faults.''

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it, Launce. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,


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She shall not long continue love to him.

You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. But say, this wean' her love from Valentine,

Write, till your ink be dry, and with your tears
It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

Moist'it again; and frame some feeling line,
Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, That may discover strict integrity :
Lest it should ravel and be good to none,

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, You must provide to bottom it on me;

Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Which must be done, by praising me as much Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Because we know, on Valentine's report,

Visit by night your lady's chamber window
You are already love's firm votary,

With some sweet consort: to their instruments And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence Upon this warrant shall you have access

Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. Where you with Silvia may confer at large;

This, or else nothing, will inherit her. For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. And for your friend's sake will be glad of you,

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. When you may temper her, by your persuasion, Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. Let us into the city presently, Pro. As much as I can do I will effect.

To sort some gentlemen well-skill'd in music. But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;

I have a sonnet that will serve the turn You must lay lime to tangle her desires

To give the onset to thy good advice. By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes

Duke. About it, gentlemen. Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, Duke. Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

And afterward determine our proceedings. Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty

Duke. Even now about it: I will pardon you. [Exeunt.



1 Out. Have you the tongues ? SCENE I.-A Forest, between Milan and Verona.

Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy, Enter certain Outlaws.

Or else I had been often miserable, 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em. This fellow were a king for our wild faction. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.

1 Out. We'll have him. Sirs, a word. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about

[They talk apart. you;

Speed. Master, be one of them :
If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Speed. Sir, we are undone. These are the villains Val. Peace, villain!
That all the travellers do fear so much.

2 Out. Tell us this : have you any thing to take to? Val. My friends,

Val. Nothing, but my fortune. 1 Out. That's not so, sir : we are your enemies. 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, 2 Out. Peace! we'll hear him.

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper Thrust from the company of awful men:

Myself was from Verona banished, Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. For practising to steal away a lady, A man I am crossd with adversity :

An heir, and near allied unto the duke. My riches are these poor habiliments,

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Of which if you should here disfurnish me,

Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart. You take the sum and substance that I have.

1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. 2 Out. Whither travel you?

But to the purpose; for we cite our faults, Val. To Verona,

That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives : 1 Out. Whence came you?

And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd Val. From Milan.

With goodly shape; and by your own report 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

A linguist, and a man of such perfection, Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have As we do in our quality much wantstay'd,

3 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. 2 Out. What! were you banish'd thence ?

Are you content to be our general ? Val. I was.

To make a virtue of necessity, 2 Out. For what offence ?

And live, as we do, in this wilderness ? [consort? Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse. 3 Out. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all. But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,

We'll do thee homage, and be ruld by thee, Without false vantage, or base treachery.

Love thee as our commander, and our king. 1 Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. But were you banish'd for so small a fault ?

2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.

offer'd. 2 Not in f. e.

1 weed: in f. e.

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