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 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.

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:-and 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; Nay, take them.

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. [Exit SILVIA. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a

Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover,

Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover."

All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.Why muse you, sir? 't is dinner time.

Val. I have dined.

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 House.

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.

Pro. When possibly I can, I will return.

Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.

[Giving a ring.

Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here,

take you this.

Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not; The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears; That tide will stay no longer than I should; [Exit JULIA.

Julia, farewell.-What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.

Enter JULIA.

Pan. Sir Protens, you are stayed for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come :-

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. A Street.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Laun. Nay, 't will 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 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 shew 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 worse sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on 't! there 't is 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, -0, 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, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood woman;— well, I kiss her;-why, there't is; 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.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, Ass, you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any 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?

Luun. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tale.

SCENE IV.-Milan. A Room in the DUKE'S
Palace.

Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED
Sil. Servant-
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. 'T were 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 colour?

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.

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.

Enter DUKE.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: 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 you Don Antonio, your countryman?

Val. Ay, 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. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well?

Val. I knew 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;
His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word (for far behind his worth
Come 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 counsellor.
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think 't is no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wished 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'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit DUKE.
Val. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes locked in her crystal looks.
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.

Enter PROTEUS.

Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !- Mistress, I beseech you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wished 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 :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 mistress. Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Sil. That you are welcome? Pro. that

No;

you are worthless. Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.

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

Go with me ;-Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.
[Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED.
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. Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now: I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punished 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.

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

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!
Now, no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye : Was this the idol that you worship so?

Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon.
Val. Call her divine.

Val.

Sweet, except not any; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have 1 not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too; She shall be dignified with this high honour,To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies no

thing;

She is alone.

Pro. Then let her alone.

Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine

own;

And I as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along; and I must after,
For love thou know'st is full of jealousy.
Pro. But she loves you?
Val.

Ay, and we are betrothed:
Nay, more, our marriage hour,

With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determined of: how I must climb her window; The ladder made of cords; and all the means

Plotted, and 'greed on, for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs, to aid me with thy counsel.
Pro. Go on before; I shall enquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use;
And then I'll presently attend you.

Val. Will you make haste?

Pro. I will.

[Exit VALENTINE.
Even as one heat another heat expels,
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it her mein, 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 thawed;
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!
"T is 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. [Exit.

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 welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome.

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I 'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five-pence, 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?