Val. No more, unless the next Word that thou speak'st Have fome malignant Power upon my Life: If fo, I pray thee breathe it in mine Ear, As ending Anthem of my endless Dolour. Pro. Čeafe to lament for that thou canst not help, And study Help for that which thou lament'ft. Time is the Nurfe and Breeder of all Good: Here if thou stay, thou canst not fee thy Love; Befides, thy ftaying 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, tho' thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, fhall be deliver'd Even in the milk-white Bofom of thy Love. The time now ferves not to expoftulate; Come, I'll convey thee through the City-gate, And, e'er I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy Love-affairs: As thou lov'ft Silvia, tho' not for thy felf, Regard thy Danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou feeft my Boy, Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the North-Gate. Pro. Go Sirrah, find him out: Come Valentine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! [Exeunt. Laun. I am but a Fool, look you, and yet I have the Wit to think my Mafter is a kind of a Knave: But that's all one, if he be but one Knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in love, yet I am in love; but a Teem of Horse shall not pluck that from me, nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a Woman; but what Woman I will not tell my self; and yet 'tis a Milk-maid; yet 'tis not a Maid, for fhe hath had Goffips; yet 'tis a Maid, for she is her Mafter's Maid, and ferves for Wages: She hath more Qualities than a Water-Spaniel, which is much in a bare Chriftian. Here is the Cate-log [Pulling out a Paper] of her Conditions; Imprimis, She can fetch and carry; why a Horfe can do no more, nay a Horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is the better than a Jade. Item, the can milk; look you, a fweet Virtue in a Maid with clean Hands.

Enter

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now Signior Launce? What News with your Mattership?

Laun. With my Mastership? Why, it is at Sea.

Speed. Well, your old Vice ftill; miftake the Word: What News then in your Paper?

Laun. The blackeft News that ever thou heard'ft.
Speed. Why Man, how black?

Laun. Why, as black as Ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fie on thee, Jolthead, thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou lieft, I can.

Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee?
Speed. Marry, the Son of my Grand-father.

Laun. O illiterate Loiterer, it was the Son of thy
Grand-mother; this proves that thou canst not read.
Speed. Come Fool, come, try me in thy Paper.
Laun. There, and S. Nicholas be thy Speed.
Speed. Imprimis, she can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, the brews good Ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the Proverb, Bleffing of your

Heart, you brew good Ale.

Speed. Item, the can fowe.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, Can fhe fo?

Speed. Item, he can knit.

Laun. What need a Man care for a Stock with a Wench, When she can knit him a Stock?

Speed. Item, fhe can wash and scour.

Laun. A fpecial Virtue, for them fhe need not to be wash'd and fcour'd.

Speed. Item, fhe can spin.

Laun. Then may I fet the World on Wheels, when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, the hath many nameless Virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to fay Baftard Virtues, that indeed know not their Fathers, and therefore have no Names. Speed. Here follow her Vices.

Laun. Clofe at the Heels of her Virtues.

Speed. Item, fhe is not to be kift fafting, in respect of her Breath.

To meafure Kingdoms with his feeble Steps,
Much lefs fhall fhe, that hath Love's Wings to fly;
And when the Flight is made to one fo dear,
Of fuch divine Perfection as Sir Protheus.

Luc. Better forbear 'till Protheus make Return.

Jul. Oh, know'st thou not, his Looks are my Soul's Food? Pity the Dearth that I have pined in,

By longing for that Food fo long a time:

Didft thou but know the inly Touch of Love,
Thou would'ft as foon go kindle Fire with Snow,
As feek to quench the Fire of Love with Words.
Luc. I do not feek to quench your Love's hot Fire,
But qualifie the Fire's extream Rage,

Left it should burn above the Bounds of Reason..

Jul. The more thou dam'ft it up, the more it burns:
The Current that with gentle Murmur glides,
Thou know'ft, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair Courfe is not hindered,

He makes sweet Mufick with th' ennamel'd Stones,
Giving a gentle Kifs to every Sedge
He overtaketh in his Pilgrimage:

And fo by many winding Nooks he strays,
With willing Sport, to the wild Ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my Course;
I'll be as patient as a gentle Stream,

And make a Paftime of each weary Step,
'Till the laft Step have brought me to my Love;
And there I'll reft, as, after much Turmoil,
A bleffed Soul doth in Elizium.

Luc. But in what Habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a Woman; for I would prevent

The loofe Encounters of lafcivious Men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with fuch Weeds

As may befeem fome well-reputed Page.

Luc. Why then your Ladyfhip muft cut your Hair.
Jul. No, Girl; I'll knit it up in filken Strings,

With twenty odd-conceited true-love Knots:

To be fantaftick, may become a Youth

Of greater time than I fhall fhow to be.

Luc. What Fashion, Madam, fhall I make your Breeches ?
Jul. That fits as well, as tell me, good my Lord,

What

T

What compass will you wear your Farthingale?
Why, even what Fashion thou beft likes, Lucetta.

Luc. You must needs have them with a Cod-piece, Madam.
Jul. Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favour'd.
Luc. A round Hofe, Madam, now's not worth a Pin,
Unless you have a Cod-piece to stick Pins on.

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'ft me, let me have
What thou think'ft meet, and is moft mannerly:
But tell me, Wench, how will the World repute me
For undertaking fo unftaid a Journey?

I fear me it will make me fcandaliz'd.

Luc. If you think fo, then ftay at home, and go not.
Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on Infamy, but go.
If Protheus like your Journey when you come,
No matter who's difpleas'd when you are gone:
I fear me he will fcarce be pleas'd with all.

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my Fear:
A thousand Oaths, an Ocean of his Tears,
And Inftances as infinite of Love,

Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.

Luc. All these are Servants to deceitful Men. Jul. Bafe Men that use them to fo bafe Effect: But truer Stars did govern Protheus Birth; His Words are Bonds, his Oaths are Oracles, His Love fincere, his Thoughts immaculate, His Tears pure Meffengers fent from his Heart, His Heart as far from Fraud as Heav'n from Earth. Luc. Pray Heav'n he prove fo when you come to him. Jul. Now as thou lov'ft me, do him not that Wrong, To bear a hard Opinion of his Truth; Only deferve my Love by loving him. And prefently go with me to my Chamber, To take a Note of what I ftand in need of, To furnish me upon my longing Journey: All that is mine I leave at thy Difpofe, My Goods, my Lands, my Reputation, Only in lieu thereof dispatch me hence. Come, anfwer not; but to it presently: I am impatient of my Tarriance.

[Exeunt,

АС Т

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Duke, Thurio and Protheus.

Duke. SIR ucrets to

IR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;

We have fome Secrets to confer about. [Ex. Thu.

Now tell me, Protheus, 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, undeferving 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 fteal away your Daughter:
My felf 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 ftoll'n away from you,
It would be much Vexation to your Age.
Thus, for my Duty's fake, I rather chofe
To cross my Friend in his intended Drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your Head
A pack of Sorrows, which would prefs you down,
Being unprepared, to your timeless Grave.

Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honeft Care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This Love of theirs my felf have often feen,
Haply when they have judg'd me faft afleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her Company, and my Court:
But fearing left my jealous Aim might err,
And fo unworthily difgrace the Man,
A Rashness that I ever yet have fhunn'd;
I gave him gentle Looks, thereby to find
That which thy felf haft now disclos'd to me.
And that thou may'ft perceive my Fear of this;
Knowing that tender Youth is foon fuggefted,
I nighly lodge her in an upper Tower,

The