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Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter Host and JULIA (in boy's clothes), behind. Host. Now, my young guest; methinks you're allycholly: I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. Host. Come, we 'll have you merry. I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentlemen that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be music.

Host. Hark! Hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

Host. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? what is she,

[Music plays.

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise as free ;1

The heaven such grace did lend her,

That she might admired be.

Is she kind, as she is fair,
For beauty lives with kindness?
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now! are you sadder than you were
before? How do you, man? the music likes you not.
Jul. You mistake: the musician likes me not.
Host. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays false, father.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings?

Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

1 is she: in f. e.

Jul. Ay; I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. [Music plays again.1
Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music.
Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would not have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, Host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he lov'd her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Jul. Peace! stand aside: the company parts.

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear you not: I will so plead, That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At St. Gregory's well.

Thu. Farewell. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians. Enter SILVIA above, at her window.

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will?

Pro.

That I may compass yours.

Sil. You have your wish my will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,

1 This direction is not in f. e.

And by and by intend to chide myself,

Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady; But she is dead.

Jul. [Aside.] 'T were false, if I should speak it; For, I am sure, she is not buried.

Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives, to whom thyself art witness

I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave,
Assure thyself, my love is buried.

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence; Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Jul. [Aside.] He heard not that.

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep;
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow,

And to your shadow will I make true love.
Jul. [Aside.] If 't were a substance, you would, sure,
deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;

But, since your falsehood, 't shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it.

And so, good rest.

Pro.

That wait for execution in the morn.

As wretches have o'er night,

[Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA.

Jul. Host, will you go?

Host. By my halidom,' I was fast asleep.

Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ?

Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think, 't is

almost day.

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest.

[Exeunt.

1 From the Saxon haligdome, holy place or kingdom.

SCENE III.-The Same.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia Entreated me to call, and know her mind. There's some great matter she 'd employ me in.Madam, madam !

Enter SILVIA above, at her window.

Sil. Who calls?

Egl.

Your servant, and your friend;

One that attends your ladyship's command.

Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow. Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. According to your ladyship's impose,1

I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;

Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.
Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances,

1 Injunction. 2 Compassionate.

And the most true affections that you bear;1
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little what betideth me,

As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?

Sil.

This evening coming.
Egl. Where shall I meet you?
Sil.

Where I intend holy confession.

At friar Patrick's cell,

Egl. I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, Gentle lady.

Sil.

Good morrow, kind sir Eglamour. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The Same.

Enter LAUNCE with his dog.

Launce. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him as a present to mistress Silvia from my master, and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies. I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily, he had been hang'd for 't: sure as I live, he had suffer'd for 't. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemen-like dogs under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. "Out with the dog!" says one; "what cur is that?" says another; "whip him out," says the third; “hang him up," says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: "Friend," quoth I; "do you mean to whip the dog?" "Ay, marry, do I," quoth he. "You do him the more wrong," quoth I; "It was I did the thing you wot of." He makes me no

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