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
color?

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. Aye, 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 bor-
rows 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

20

30

40

20. This is much the same as saying, in the wardrobe dialect of our day, My coat is a vest. The jerkin, or jacket, was generally worn over the doublet; but sometimes the latter was worn alone, and so confounded with the former. Sometimes both had sleeves, sometimes neither, and in the latter case sleeves were separate articles of dress.-H. N. H.

bare liveries, that they live by your bare

words.

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no

comes my father.

Enter Duke.

more:-here

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: 51
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 ye Don Antonio, your countryman? Val. Aye, 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. Aye, my good lord; a son that well deserves The honor and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well?

61

Val. I know him as myself; for from our infancy We have conversed 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; 70
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, for far behind his worth
Comes 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 counselor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates; 80
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
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 will 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. 90 Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchised 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 blind,

How could he see his way to seek out you? 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 gentle

man.

Enter Proteus.

100

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech

you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favor. 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:

110

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 mis-
tress.

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

Pro.

That you are worthless.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak

with you.

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

Go with me. Once more, new servant, wel

come:

I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;

120

When you have done, we look to hear from you.

117. The Folios give this line to "Thurio"; if the reading be right, he must have quitted the stage during the scene, probably immediately before the entrance of Proteus, after line 100.-I. G.

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. Aye, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:

I have done penance for contemning Love, 130
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 chased sleep from my enthralled
eyes,

And made them watchers of mine own heart's

sorrow.

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

131. "Whose high imperious thoughts have punished me"; Johnson proposed to read "those" for "whose," as if the "imperious thoughts" are Valentine's and not "Love's"; the word "thoughts" certainly presents a difficulty, being used here probably in the sense of "dispositions of the mind."-I. G.

139. That is, no misery compared to that inflicted by love;-a form of speech not unusual in the old writers: Thus an old ballad:

"There is no comfort in the world

To women that are kind."-H. N. H.