Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to 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 sojourned there?
Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might
have staid,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence?
Val. I was.

2 Out. For what offence?

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse:

I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.
1 Out. Why ne'er repent it, if it were done

so:

But were you banish'd for so small a fault? Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 1 Out. Have you the tongues?‡

Val. My youthful travel therein made me Or else I often had been miserable. [happy;

3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,

This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1 Out. We'll have him: Sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val. Peace, illain!

2 Out. Tell us this: Have you any thing to take to?

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth,

• Choose out + Well-looking. + Languages.

man,

Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:
To make a virtue of necessity,
Are you content to be our general?

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consórt?

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all: We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, Love thee as our commander, and our king. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.

Val. I take your offer, and will live with Provided that you do no outrages [you;

On silly women, or poor passengers.

Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,

And show thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-Milan.-Court of the Palace.

Enter PROTEUS.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,

When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend.
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio: now must we to her
window,

And give some evening music to her ear.

Enter THURIO, and Musicians.

Thu. How now, Sir Proteus? are you crept before us?

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love

Will creep in service where it cannot go.
Thu. Ay, but, I hope, Sir, that you love not

here.

Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. Thu. Whom? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,-for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, genLet's tune, and to it lustily a while. [tlemen,

Lawful. Anger, resentment. Passionate reproaches

Who is Silvia? What is she,

That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heavens 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.

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. Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music! Jul. Ay; that change is the spite. Host. You would 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 loved 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 not you! I will so plead, That you shall say, my cunning drift excels. Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell.

[Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.
SILVIA appears 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,

quick learn to know him by his voice.

koning.

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 w

this,

is even

That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so co ceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love am nds.
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;
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 3
But she is dead.

Jul. "Twere false if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried.

[lady;

[Aside

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 importúnacy?

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.

deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am. [Aside Sil. I am very loath to be your idol, Sir; But, since your falsehood shall become you well

Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
And so good rest.

That wait for execution in the morn.
Pro. As wretches have o'er-night,

[Exeunt PROTEUS; and SILVIA from above. Jul. Host, will you go?

Host. By my hallidom,* I was fast asleep. Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? think, 'tis almost day. Host. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I

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

SCENE III.-The sume.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

[Exeunt.

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 Madam, madam! (in.

SILVIA appears above, at her window.

Sil. Who calls?

* Holy dame, blessed lady.

gl. Your servant, and your friend; e that attends your ladyship's command. Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times

morrow.

Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. xording to your ladyship's impose,* am thus early come, to know what service 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,t 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, who my very soul abhorr❜d.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
Ne grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,

a gentlewoman's fartingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

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;
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. At friar Patrick's cell,

Where I intend holy confession.

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. Laun. 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 keeps 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 hanged for't; sure as I live, he had suffered for't: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-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? Injunction, command. t Caring.

+ Pitiful

Restrain,

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please;-I will do what I

can.

Pro. I hope, thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson peasant? [TO LAUNCE. Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, Sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

Pro. And what says she, to my little jewel? Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pro. But she received my dog?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, Sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the marketplace: and then I offered her mine own; who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog Or ne'er return again into my sight. [again, Away, I say: Stay'st thou to vex me here? A slave, that, still an end,* turns me to shame. [Exit LAUNCE. Sebastian, I have entertained thee, Partly, that I have need of such a youth, That can with some discretion do my business, For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt; But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour; Which (if my augury deceive me not) Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth: Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently, and take this ring with thee, Deliver it to madam Silvia:

She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.

Jul. It seems, you loved her not, to leave her She's dead, belike. [token:

Pro. Not so; I think she lives.
Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you
As you do love your lady Silvia: [as well
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love;
You dote on her, that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity, love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal

* In the end.

This letter;-that's her chamber.-Tell my lady,,
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
[Exit PROTEUS.
Jul. How many women would do such a
message?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will:
And now am I (unhappy messenger)

To plead for that, which I would not obtain;
To carry that which I would have refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would have dis-
prais'd.

I am my master's true confirmed love;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself,
Yet I will woo for him: but yet so coldly,
As, heaven, it knows, I would not have him
speed.

mean

Enter SILVIA, attended. Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my [via. To bring me where to speak with madam SilSil. What would you with her, if that I be she?

Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. Sil. From whom?

Jul. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
Sil. O!-he sends you for a picture?
Jul. Ay, madam.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.

[Picture brought. Go, give your master this: tell him from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter. Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd Delivered you a paper that I should not; This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. Sil. There, hold.

I will not look upon your master's lines: I know, they are stuff'd with protestations, And full of new-found oaths; which he will As easily as I do tear his paper. [break Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. [me;

Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it For, I have heard him say a thousand times, His Julia gave it him at his departure: Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring, Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. Jul. She thanks you.

Sil. What say'st thou ?

When she did think my master lov'd her well, She, in my judgement, was as fair as you; But since she did neglect her looking-glass, And threw her sun-expelling mask away, The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I.

Sil. How tall was she?

Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost,* When all our pageants of delight were play'd, Our youth got me to play the woman's part, And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown; Which served me as fit, by all men's judgement, As if the garment had been made for me; Therefore, I know she is about my height. And, at that time, I made her weep a-good,t For I did play a lamentable part: Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight; Which I so lively acted with my tears, That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth!Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!I weep myself, to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee

this

[her. For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st [Exit SILVIA.

Farewell.

Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er

you know her.

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture: Let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire,‡ this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow;
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass; and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respectives in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and
ador'd;

And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The same.-An Abbey.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

[Exit