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Pan. 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?

Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tale.

Pan. In thy tail?

Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service: And the tide!-Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs.

Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest.
Pan. Wilt thou go?
Laun. Well, I will go.
SCENE IV.

[Exeunt. Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.

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 knocked him.
Sil. Servant, you are sad.

Val. Indeed, madam, 1 seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply, I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits?
Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem 1, 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 company.

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father.

Enter Duke.

Duke. Now,daughter Silvia,you are hard beset. 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?

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The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well ?

Val. I knew 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.

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seech you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,

If th.s 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.
Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome?
Pro.

No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant.

Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak

with you.

Sit. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Erit Ser.

Come, Sir Thurio,

Go with me: Once more, new servant, wel- In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

come:

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, Thurio, and Speed.
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;
1 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 imperions 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 Protens, love's a mighty lord;
And hath so humbled me, as, I must confess,
There is no wo 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's an earthly paragon.
Val. Call her divine.

Pro. I will not flatter her.

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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-smelling flower,
And make rough winter everlastingly,
Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is
this?

Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is no-
thing

To her, whose worth makes other worthies no

thing;

She is alone.

Pro. Then let her alone.

Pro. Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use;
And then I'll presently attend you.
Fal. Will you make haste?
Pro. I will.-

Erit Val.

Even as one heat another heat expe's,
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my foriner love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it her mien, or Valentinns' praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus 7
She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love:
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was
Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold;
And that I love him not, as I was wont:
O! but I love his lady too, too much;
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. [Exit.
SCENE V. The same. A Street.

Enter Speed and Lannce.
Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to
Milan.

Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always-that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome.

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five pence thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how didst thy master part with madam Julia ?'

Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.

Speed. But shall she marry him?

Luun. No.

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Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst
not?

My staff understands me.
Speed. What thou say'st?

Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll

mine own;

And I as rich in having such a Jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes,
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along; and I must after,
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
Pro. But she loves you?

Val.
Ay, and we are betroth'd;
Nay, more, our marriage hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determin'd of: how I must climb her window;
The ladder made of cords; and all the means
Plotted; and 'greed on, for my happiness.
Good Protens, go with me to my chamber,

but lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.

Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all

one.

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.

Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable lover?

Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?

Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest b'm to be.

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest |

me.

Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master.

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.

Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house, so; if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. Speed. Why?

Laun Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go?

Speed. At thy service. SCENE VI.

[Exeunt. The same. An Apartment in

the Palace.

Enter Proteus.

Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;
And even that power, which gave me first my
oath,

Provokes me to this threefold perjury.

Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear:
O sweet suggesting fove, if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
: Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;
But there I leave to love, where I should love.
Julia I lose; and Valentine I lose ;
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.

I to myself am dearer than a friend;
For love is still most precious in itself:

Jul. O, 'know'st thou hot, his looks are my
soul's food?

Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire;
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it
burns;

The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth

rage;

But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musick with th' enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
And so 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 pastime of each weary step,,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as, after much tormoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Luc. But in what habit will you go along 1
Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men :
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well reputed page.
Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your
hair.

Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots:
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make
your breeches?

Jul. That fits as well, as" tell me, good my
lord,

What compass will you wear your farthingale ?"
Why,even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta.

And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! Luc. You must needs have them with a cod

Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Júlia is alive,

piece, madam.

Jul. Out,out, Lucetta; that will be ill favour'd.
Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth

a pin,

Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on."
Jul. Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly:
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute

me,

Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine P'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine:
This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window;
Myself in counsel, his competitor:
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended flight;
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter:
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceed-If Proteus like your journey, when you come,

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ing.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift. [Erit
SCENE VIL Verona. A Room in Julia's
House.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me!
And, e'en in kind love, I do conjure thee;-
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,-
To lesson me; and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long.
Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;
Much less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly;
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.
Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return.

For undertaking so unstaid a journey?

I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and

go not.

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.

No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances of infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth:
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you

come to him!

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that
wrong,

To bear a hard opinion of his truth;
Only deserve my love, by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,

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Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter: Cannot your grace win her to fancy him 3

SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro

ACT III.

Palace.

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Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus. Duke, Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about.

[Exit Thurio. Now, tell me, Proteus, 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, undeserving 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 steal away your daughter;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know you have determined to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should she be thus stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
Duke. Proteus, 1 thank thee for thine honest

care;

Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,
And so unworthily disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd),
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

ward,

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like
duty,

I

now am full resolv'd to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her wedding dower; For me and my possessions she esteems not. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this ?

1

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence: Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court: Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) How, and which way, I may bestow myself, To be regarded in her sun-bright eye..

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent

her.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her:

Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say:
For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away;
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces,
Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels'

faces.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,

Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devised a If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

mean

How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery be not aimed at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.

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Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth;
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe,

That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window ?

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, To cast up with a pair of unchoring books, Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, So bold Leander would adventure it.

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell

me that.

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, a That longs for every thing that he can come by Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a lad

I am to break with thee of some affairs,
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.

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Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a
cloak ?-

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.-
What letter is this same? What's here 1-To
Silvia 1

And here an engine fit for my proceeding?
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [reads.
My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly:
And slaves they are to me that send them flying:
O, could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge where senseless they are
lying.

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest
them;

While 1, their king, that hither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord
should be.

What's here?

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee!

Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike?
Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why,sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear
good news,

So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia !→→
Hath she forsworn me?
Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn
me!-

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Val. O, I have fed upon this wo already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?
Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force,)

Tis so and here's the ladder for the purpose.-A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears

Why, Phaeton (for thou art Merop's son,)
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder! over-weening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates:
And think, my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence:
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours
Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.
Begone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from
hence.
[Erit Duke.
Fal. And why not death, rather than living
torment?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!"
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection,
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence

Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom;
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
1
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter Proteus and Launce.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became
them,

As if but now they waxed pale for wo:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'eu, must die.
Besides, her intercession char'd him so
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word that thou
speak'st,

Have some malignant pow'r upon my life;
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.
Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not
help,

And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
Besides, thy staying 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, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:
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'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest 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'!
[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus,

Laun. Him we go to find; there's not a hair Laun. 1 am but a fool, look you; and yet I

on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

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have the wit to think, my master 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 team of horse shall not

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