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Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,

discover such integrity :
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
With some sweet consort. To their instruments
Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shews thou hast been in love.

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music. I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn, To give the onset to thy good advice.

Duke. About it, gentlemen.

Pro. We'll wait upon your Grace till after supper; And afterward determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you.


ACT IV. SCENE I. The frontiers of Mantua. A Forest.

Enter certain Outlaws.

1 Outlaw. JELLOWS, stand fast; I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down

with 'em.

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about


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If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

Speed. O sir, we are undone! these are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much.

Val. My friends ... 1 Out. That's not so, sir; we are your enemies. 2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him.

3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper man.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. 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. 2 Out. Have you the tongues ?

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

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, villain ! 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 Thrust from the company of awful men. Myself was from Verona banished, For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and near4 allied unto the Duke.

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Whom, in my mood, I stabb’d unto the heart.

1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. But to the purpose; for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives. And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd With goodly shape; and by your own report A linguist, and a man of such perfection, As we do in our quality much want ...

2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. Are you content to be our general ? To make a virtue of necessity, And live, as we do, in this wilderness ?

3 Out. What says't thou ? wilt thou be of our consórt? Say ay, and be the captain of us all; We'll do thee homage, and be ruld 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

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you;
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers.

3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our caves,
And shew thee all the treasure we have got;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.



SCENE II. Milan. Court of the Palace.


ALREADY have I been false to Valentine,

I .
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 music to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Musicians. Thu. How now, Sir Proteus ! are you crept before 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. Who? Silvia ? Pro.

Ay, Silvia,-for your sake. Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while. 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 music, 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 music.

[Music plays.
Host. Hark! hark !
Jul. Is he among these?
Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

Who is Silvia? What is she?

That all our swains commend her ?
Holy, fuir, 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! you are sadder than you were
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.


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