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(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.
[tents her:
Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con-
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,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
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 anchoring hooks, 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, That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak, that is of any length.

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn. Val. Ay, my good lord.

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak:

I'll get me one of such another length.

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 lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit Duke.
Val. And why not death, rather than living tor-
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; [ment?
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 musick 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;
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?

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

[Reads.

Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. 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?-To Silvia ? And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. 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 I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servant's 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:

'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.-
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.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news? [vanish'd. Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's 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, unrevers'd, 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 As if but now they waxed pale for woe: [them, 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 chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of 'biding there. [speak'st, Val. No more; unless the next word that thou Have some malignant power 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 can'st not
And study help for that which thou lament'st. [help,
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 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!

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: Read on.

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Laun. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

Speed. Item, She is curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
Speed. She will often praise her liquor.

[Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of 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 he who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: 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 barechristian. Here is the cat-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 bet-it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, and thereter than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She is too liberal.

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ down she is slow of of her purse she shall not; for that I'll keep shut: now of another thing she may; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news with your mastership?

Laun. With my master's ship? why it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word: What news then in your paper?

Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.
Speed. Why, man, how black?

Laun. Why as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fye on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather.
Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy
grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read.
Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.
Laun. There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs: and more wealth thun faults. Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,-
Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove

fore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,

Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gracious: Well, I'll have her: And if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then will I tell thee,-that thy master stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. For me?

Laun. For thee? ay: who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love letters!

[Exit.

Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust him. self into secrets-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,-Bless-SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Duke's

ing of your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, can she so?

Speed. Item, She can knit.

Palace.

Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love [you,

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. wench, when she can knit him a stock.

Speed. Item, She can wash and scour.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me,

Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not That I am desperate of obtaining her.

be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item. She can spin.

Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice; which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.-
How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.-
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee,

(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,)
Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace.

Duke. Thou know'st, how willingly I would effect
The match between sir Thurio and my daughter.
Pro. I do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
What might we do, to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?
Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoken in
Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
[hate.
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.
Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do:
"Tis an ill office for a gentleman;
Especially, against his very friend.

[him,

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage
Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,
By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

[him,

in this
[kind;

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from
Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me:
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.
Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you
Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access,
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.

Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect :-
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity:

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Forest, near Mantua.

Enter certain Outlaws.

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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,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend :
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
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 musick 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, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy's clothes. Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be musick.

Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

[Musick plays.

Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

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 musick 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 musick.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
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 musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?

[truth,
Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
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 will is even this,-
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
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 a lady;
But she is dead.

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

[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 importunacy?
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. Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence ; Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Jul. He heard not that.

[Aside.

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep:
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow I will make true love.
Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, de-

ceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;
But, since your falshood shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
And so, good rest.

Pro.

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

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above.

Jul. Host, will you go?

Host. By my hallidon, I was fast asleep.

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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 in.Madam, madam !

Silvia appears above, at her window.

Sil. Who calls?
Egl.
Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command. [row.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-mor-
Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,
I am thus early come, to know what service
It 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, 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, whom my very soul abhorr'd.
Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode ;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward
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.

with [plagues.

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.

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? says another; Whip him out, says a third; Hang him up, says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't: thou think'st not of this now!-Nay, I remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When did'st thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale ? did'st thou ever see me do such a trick?

Enter Proteus and Julia.

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? me by the hangman's boys in the market-place: Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from 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 again, Or ne'er return again into my sight.

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 entertain'd 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;
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
[Exeunt. She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.
Deliver it to madam Silvia :

At friar Patrick's cell,

Where I intend holy confession.
Egl. I will not fail your ladyship:
Good morrow, gentle lady.

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

Pro.

Jul. Alas!

Not so; I think, she lives.

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

[well

Sil. Good morrow, kind sir Eglamour. SCENE IV.-The same. Enter Launce, with his dog. 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 As you do love your lady Silvia : to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from She dreams on him, th t has forgot her love; my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-You dote on her, that cares not for your love. chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary; her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur And thinking on it makes me cry, alas! cannot keep himself in all companies! I would Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to This letter;-that's her chamber.-Tell my lady, be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, afault upon me that he did, I think verily he had Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. been hanged for't; sure as I live he had suffered

[Exit Proteus.

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