Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam
Silvia?

Speed. She that your worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks. First, you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a Robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A. B. C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Val. Are all these things perceived in me?
Speed. They are all perceived without you.
Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady.

Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?

Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean.
Speed. Why, sir, I know her not.

[pains?

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much
Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write,
Please you command, a thousand times as much:
And yet,-

Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;
And yet I will not name it :-nd yet I care not ;-
And yet take this again;-and yet I thank you;
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet.

[Aside. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?

Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ: But since unwillingly, take them again;

Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, Nay, take them. and yet knowest her not?

Speed. Is she not hard favoured, sir?

Val. Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.
Val. What dost thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured.

Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.

Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.

Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.
Val. How long hath she been deformed?
Speed. Ever since you loved her.

Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.
Val. Why?

Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going ungartered!

Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease.

Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ?

Val. Madam, they are for you.

Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
Sil. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over :
And if it please you, so: if not, why, so.

Val. If it please me, madam! what then?
Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour.
And so good morrow, servant. [Erit Silvia.
Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a
steeple!

My master sues to her; and she hath taught her
suitor,

He being her pupil, to become her tutor.

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason.

Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia.
Val. To whom?

Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.

Val. What figure?

Specd. By a letter, I should say.

Val. Why, she hath not writ to me?

Speed. What needs she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?

Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you indeed, sir: But did you perceive her earnest ?

Vul. She gave me none, except an angry word.

Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.
Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end.

Val. I would, it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them;- For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Peace, here she comes.

Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;

Enter Panthino

Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind

discover,

Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars.

her lover.

What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? it.-Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat; O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Verona. A Room in Julia's

Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd. Pan. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. 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.

Sil. Servant[Exit Julia.

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, I seem so.

Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem I, 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

Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon.

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.

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear; he is a stone, a very pebble-colour? stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: This shoe is my father;-no, this left shoe is my father;-no, no, this left shoe is my mother;-nay, that cannot be so neither :yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole; This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; A vengeance on't! there 'tis. now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on:-now come I to my mother, (0, that she could speak now !) like a wood woman;-well, I kiss her;-why, there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

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.

So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me reasonless, to reason thus?
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.

SCENE V.The same. A street.

Enter Speed and Launce.

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.

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 love, 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.-
Exit. Fye, fye, 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 lose them, thus find I by their loss,
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
For Valentine, myself: for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend:
For love is still more precious in itself:
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair'
Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead;
And Valentine I'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;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter:
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! [Exit.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
SCENE VII.-Verona. A Room in Julia's House.
Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of fivepence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did 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?
Laun. No.

Speed. How then? shall he marry her?
Laun. No, neither.

Speed. What, are they broken?

Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish.
Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with

them?

Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well

with him, it stands well with her. Speed. What an ass art thou? I understand thee

not.

Laun. What a block art thou, that thou can'st not? My staff understands me.

Speed. What thou say'st?

Laun. Ay, and what I do, too: look thee, I'll 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 him

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 alehouse, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. Speed. Why?

Jul. Counsel, Lucetta! gentle girl, assist me!
And, even 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.
Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's
Pity the dearth that I have pined in, [food?
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;

Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in But, when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones, | But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,