Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. Speed. Item, "She can sew." Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so? Launce. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? Speed. Item, "She can wash and scour." Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and scour'd. Speed. Item, "She can spin." Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. Speed. Item, "She hath many nameless virtues." Launce. 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. Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. Item, "She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath." Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet moi th." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Launce. It's no matter for that, so she slip not in her talk. Speed. Item, "She is slow in words." Launce. 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." Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. Item, "She hath no teeth." Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed. Item, "She is curst." Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. Item, "She will often praise her liquor." Launce. 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." Launce. 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 cannot I help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, "She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults." Launce. 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," Launce. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore 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," Launce. That's monstrous: O, that that were out! Speed. "And more wealth than faults." Launce. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible, Speed. What then? Launce. Why, then will I tell thee,—that thy master stays for thee at the north-gate. Speed. For me? Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath stay'd for a better man than thee. Speed. And must I go to him? Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-letters! [Exit, running.1 Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit. SCENE II The Same. An Apartment in the DUKE'S Palace. Enter DUKE and THURIO. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you, Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. 1 running: not in f. e. Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most; Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure How now, sir Proteus ! Is your countryman, Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. 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 persevers so. What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio? Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : Therefore, it must, with circumstance, be spoken Duke. Then, you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: 'T is an ill office for a gentleman, Especially, against his very friend. Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him: 1 some in f. e. Therefore, the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord. If I can do it, But say, this wean' her love from Valentine, Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from 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. Duke. Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, 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 consort: to their instruments Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her. 1 weed: in f. e. Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. To sort some gentlemen well-skill'd in music. To give the onset to thy good advice. 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. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.—A Forest, between Milan and Verona. Enter certain Outlaws. 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you; If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. Speed. Sir, we are undone. These are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much. Val. My friends,— 1 Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies. 2 Out. Peace! we'll hear him. 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper man. Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am cross'd with adversity: My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have. 2 Out. Whither travel you? Val. To Verona. 1 Out. Whence came you? Val. From Milan. 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there? Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have stay'd, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. VOL. I.-10 |