I curse myself, for they are sent by me,

That they should harbor where their lord should be. What's here?

'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:'

"Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.—
Why, Phaeton, (for thou art Merops' 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 favors,
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.

Be gone; I will not hear thy vain excuse:

But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence

[Exit Duke Val. And why not death, rather than living tor ment?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself;

2 Thou art not descended from Apollo, as Phaeton was; but art the son of an earthly parent. Merops was the husband of Clymene, the mother of Phaeton.

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,1
If I be not by her fair influence

Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: 2
Tarry I here, I but attend on death ;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

Launce. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair

on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?
Val. Neither.

1 Cease to exist.

2 By avoiding the execution of this sentence I shall not

escape death.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Launce. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike?

Pro. Who wouldst thou strike?

Launce. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray

you,

Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. 1

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

news,

So much of bad already have possess'd them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable, 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!What is your news?

Launce. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd.

Pro. That thou art banish'd, O, that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay, and she hath offer'd to the doom,

(Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
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 woe:
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'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafed 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 power upon my life:
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,

As ending anthem of my endless dolor.

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, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love affairs :
As thou lovest 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. Launce. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I 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 pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid: yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: 1 yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel,-which is much in a bare christian. Here is the cate-log [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, She can fetch and carry:' why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk;' look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

1 For she has had children. Gossips are the idle, tattling women who attend child-births. 2 Qualities.