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But if thou linger in my territories,
But as thou lov'ft thy life, make fpeed from hence, [Exit.
Val. And why not death, rather than living torment?
Pro, Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Pro. What feest thou?
Laun. Him we go to find:
There's not an hair on's head but 'tis a Valentine.
Pro. Who then; his spirit?
Pro. What then?
Laun. Can nothing fpeak? mafter, fhall I ftrike?
Pro. Villain, forbear.
Laun. Why, Sir, I'll ftrike nothing, I pray you,
Pro. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine;
Pro. No, Valentine."
Val. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia;"
Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forfworn me:
Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation you are vanifh'd,
Pro. Ay, ay; and the hath offered to the doom,
Val. No more, unless the next word that thou speak'st
Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canst not help,
Val. I pray thee, Launce, and if thou feeft my boy, Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north-gate. Pro. Go, Sirrah, find him out: come, Valentine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!
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 kind of knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in love, yet I am in love; but a team 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 felf; and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for the hath had goffips; yet 'tis a maid, for she is her mafter's maid and ferves for wages: fhe hath more qualities than a water-fpaniel, which is much in a bare chriftian. Here is the cat-log [Pulling out a paper] of her conditions; imprimis, fhe can fetch and carry; why, a horfe can do no more, nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore fhe is better than a jade. Item, fhe can milk; look you, a fweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.
Speed. How now, fignior Launce? what news with your maftership?
Laun. With my master's fhip? why, it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; mistake the word: what news then in your paper?
Laun. The blackeft news that ever thou heard'st.
Laun. Fie on thee, folthead, thou can'st not read.
Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee?
Laun. O illitera that thou canst not read."
Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, Bleffing of your
beart, you brew good ale.
Speed. Item, the can fowe.
Laun. That's as much as to fay, can she fo?
Speed. Item, the can knit.
Laun. What need a man care for a ftock with a wench, when the can knit him a stock!
Speed. Item, the can wash and fcour.
Laun. A fpecial virtue, for then the need not to be
wafh'd and fcour'd.
Speed. Item, the can fpin.
Laun. Then may I fet the world on wheels, when the can fpin 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 kist fafting, in respect of her breath.
Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfaft: read on,
Speed. Item, the hath a sweet mouth.
Laun. That makes amends for her four breath.
Laun. Oh villain! that set down among her vices! to be flow in words is a woman's only virtue : I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.
Speed. Item, fhe is proud.
Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her.
Speed. Item, the hath no teeth.
Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love crufts.
Laun. Well; the beft is, fhe hath no teeth to bite.
Laun. If her liquor be good, the fhall; if the will not, I will, for good things fhould be praised.
Speed. Item, fhe is too liberal."
Laun. Of her tongue fhe cannot, for that's writ down fhe is flow of; of her purfe the fhall not, for that I'll keep fhut; now of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.
Speed. Item, fhe hath more hairs than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.
Laun. Stop there; I'll have her; fhe was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that article. Rehearse that
Speed. Item, the hath more hair than wit.
Laun. More hair than wit; it may be I'll prove it: the cover of the falt hides the falt, and therefore it is more than the falt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit; for the greater hides the lefs. What's next? Speed. And more faults than hairs.
Laun. That's monftrous: oh that that were out!
Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gracious: well, I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is impoffible
Speed. What then?