Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise

Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd:
And, that thou mayst perceive how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make known.
Even with the speediest expedition

I will despatch him to the emperor's court.
Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al-
With other gentlemen of good esteem, [phonso,
Are journeying to salute the emperor,
And to commend their service to his will.

Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go: And,-in good time:-now will we break with him.

Enter PROTeus.

Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
To seal our happiness with their consents!
O heavenly Julia!

[there? Ant. How now! what letter are you reading Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or Of commendations sent from Valentine, [two Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.

[writes

Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he How happily he lives, how well belov'd, And daily graced by the emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will, And not depending on his friendly wish.

Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the emperor's court: What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. To-morrow be in readiness to go:

burning,

And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,

Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
And, with the vantage of mine own excuse,
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!
Re-enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-MILAN. A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.

Speed. Sir, your glove.

Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but-one.

Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine.Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia!

Speed. [Calling.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! Val. How now, sirrah!

Speed. She is not within hearing, Sir. Val. Why, Sir, who bade you call her? Speed. Your worship, Sir; or else I mistook. Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too Val. Go to, Sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?

Speed. She that your worship loves?

[slow.

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robinpestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Val. Are all these things perceived in me?
Speed. They are all perceived without ye.
Val. Without me! they cannot.

Speed. Without you! nay, that's certain; for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in a urinal, that not an eye that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady.

Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?

Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Speed. Why, Sir, I know her not.

Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not?

Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, Sir?
Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.
Val. What dost thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) wellfavoured.

Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, Sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man 'counts of her beauty.

Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her

Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.
Val. How long hath she been deformed?
Speed. Ever since you loved her.

Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.

Val. Why?

Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered!

Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

Val. Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Speed. True, Sir; I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were set; so your affection | would cease.

Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.

Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thouSpeed. [Aside.] He should give her interest, and she gives it him.

Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship. [Gives a letter. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done.

Val. Now, trust me, Madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes,

I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet,

Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel: And yet I will not name it;-and yet I care not;And yet take this again;-and yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

Speed. [Aside.] And yet you will; and yet another yet.

[it?

Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; But since unwillingly, take them again: Nay, take them.

Val.

Madam, they are for you.

Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, Sir, at my request; But I will none of them; they are for you: I would have had them writ more movingly.

Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so. [over: Val. If it please me, Madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: And so, good-morrow, servant. [Exit.

Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!

My master sues to her; and she hath taught her He being her pupil, to become her tutor. [suitor, O excellent device! was there ever heard a better, That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Val. How now, Sir! what, are you reasoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.

Val. To do what?

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Launce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping: all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebblestone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting: why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father;-no, this left shoe is my father:-no, no, this left shoe is my mother;-nay, that cannot be so, neither :yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on't! there 'tis : now, Sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I am the dog;-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-O, the dog is me, and I am myself: ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; "Father, your blessing:" now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother;-0, that she could speak now! like a wood woman! well, I kiss her ;-why there 'tis, here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now, the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my

tears.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? Why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! you'll lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pant. What's the unkindest tide?

Launce. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou 'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth?

Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant,

Val. Mistress?

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress, then.

Speed. 'Twere good you knock'd him.

Sil. Servant, you are sad.

Val. Indeed, Madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply, I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem I that I am not?
Val. Wise.

Thu. What instance of the contrary?
Val. Your folly.

Thu. And how quote you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Thu. How!

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour?

Val. Give him leave, Madam: he is a kind of chameleon.

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.

Val. You have said, Sir.

Thu. Ay, Sir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, Sir: you always end ere you begin.

Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your

Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?
Val.
My lord, I will be thankful
To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?
Val. Ay, my good lord; I know the gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.

Duke. Hath he not a son?

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well?

Val. I know him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath Sir Proteus,-for that's his name,-
Made use and fair advantage of his days:
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Beshrew me, Sir, but if he make this good, He is as worthy for an empress' love,

As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, Sir, this gentleman is come to me
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a while:

I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him, then, according to his worth. Silvia, I speak to you; and you, Sir Thurio:For Valentine, I need not cite him to it. I'll send him hither to you presently.

[Exit.

Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd them, Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being How could he see his way to seek out you? [blind, Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself: Upon a homely object love can wink.

Sil. Have done, have done : here comes the gentleman.

Enter PROTEUS.

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !-Mistress, I be

seech you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.
Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Val. Leave off discourse of disability:Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

with you.

Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Att.] Come,
Sir Thurio,

Go with me.-Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

[Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?

Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended.

Val. And how do yours?

Pro.
I left them all in health.
Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your

love?

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you: I know, you joy not in a love-discourse.

Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love,

Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's

sorrow.

O gentle Proteus! love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so?

Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon.
Val. Call her divine.

Pro. I will not flatter her.

Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you.

Val. Then speak the truth by her: if not divine, Yet let her be a principality,

Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
Pro. Except my mistress.

Val. Sweet, except not any;
Except thou wilt except against my love.

Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own?
Val. And I will help thee to prefer her, too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour,-
To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower,
And make rough winter everlastingly.

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus; all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing: She is alone.