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SCENE VI.—The same. An apartment in the But qualify the fire's extreme rage, palace. Enter Proteus.

Fie, fie, 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 keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
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!
Shows 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:2
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended3 flight;
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter:
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! [Exit.

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire;

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.And make a pastime of each weary step,

Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,"
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your

hair.

SCENE VII.-Verona. A room in Julia's house. Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jud. 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.
Jud. 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. 0, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's
food?
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By lon ring for that food so long a tine.
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.

(1) Tempting.

(2) Confederate.

(3) Intended.

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;

But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course:
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,

Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots:
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your
breeches?

Jul. That fits as well, as-' tell me, good my
lord,

What compass will you wear your farthingale?'
Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta.
Luc. You must needs have them with a cod
piece, madam.

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd.
Lac. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a

pin,

Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on.

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly:
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me,
For undertaking so unstaid a journey?
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go

not.

Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

Jul. That is the least, Lucetia, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth;
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come
to him!

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that
wrong,

To bear a hard opinion of his truth:

(4) Closest.

(5) Trouble.

Only deserve my love, by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing' journey,
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only in lieu thereof, despatch me hence:
Come, answer not, but to it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance,

ACT III,

SCENE I-Milan. An anti-room in the Duke's palace, Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus.

Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenor of them doth but signify [Exeunt. My health, and happy being at your court.

Duke, Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about.

Enter Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them

Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me awhile;

I am to break with thee of some affairs,
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought
To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter.
Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the
match

Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle

man

[Exit Thurio. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious ford, that which I would dis

cover,
The law of friendship bids me to conceal:
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
And should she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke, Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have jud red me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim2 might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away,
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd

Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro-
ward,

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
now am full resolv'd to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.

Val. What would your grace have me to do in
this?

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor
(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.

mean

How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery be not aimed at ;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.
(1) L.ǝnged for. (2) Guess. (3) Tempted.

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con
tents her.
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;
a 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. Aye, but the doors be lock'd, and keys
kept safe,

(4) Guessed.

(5) Design.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Scene 1.

That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets,' but one may enter at her win-
dow?

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 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. Fal. 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?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself,
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
of 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,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
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.

;

I

Val. And why not death, rather than living
torment?

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?

Enter Proteus and Launce.

Val. Ay, my good lord.

Duke.
Then let me see thy cloak:
I'll get me one of such another length.
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. [reads.

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly;
And slaves they are to me, that send them flying:
Q, could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge, where senseless they are
lying.

(1) Hinders.

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them,
While I, their king, that hither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath
bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servants' 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:

Pro. What seest thou?

Laun. Him we go to find; there's not a hair
on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.
Pro. Valentine?

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-ho! so-ho!

'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! overweening slave!
Bestor 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.
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
[Exit Duke.

bence.

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike?
Pro. Whom would'st thou strike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

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

you,

Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear; friend Valentine, a word.

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

So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untunable, 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?

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

Pro. That thou art banish'd, 0, that's the

news;

From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. O, I have fed upon this wo already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

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
them,

As if but now they waxed pale for wo
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.

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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.

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 dolour.1

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 ity-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.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

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. 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 Laun. O villain, that set this down among her lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet Ivices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for that from ine; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a her chief virtue. 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 and cannot be ta'en from 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 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 feteh, but only car-bite. ry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy,

Enter Speed.

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

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

Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.

grandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper. Laun. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee; tell me this: who begot thee?

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,-Bless-
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.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with
a wench, when she can knit him a stock?
Speed. Item, She can wash and cour.

Laun. A special virtue; for theu she need not (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. Marry, the son of my grandfather.
Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy

(1) Grief.

(2) St. Nicholas presided over young scholars.

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 will often praise her lique. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: it she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She is too liberal.3

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.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and sea.more faults than hairs, and more wealth than the 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 is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

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. Why, man, how black?

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

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,— Laun. More hair than wit,-it may be; I'll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that

read.

for the greater

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

covers the wit, is more than the wit;
hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,—
Laun. That's monstrous: 0, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.
Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra-

(3) Licentious in language.

cious: well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
nothing is impossible,-
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

Speed. What then?

Lan. Why, then I will tell thee,-that thy It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. master stays for thee at the north gate. Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from Speed. For me?

him,

Laun. For thee? ay; wno art thou? he hath Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, staid for a better man than thee. You must provide to bottom it on me: Which must be done, by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

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.

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind;

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love-letters!

correction.

Exit. Because we know, on Valentine's report, Laa. Now will he be swinged for reading any You are already love's firm votary, letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- And cannot soon revolt and change your mind, self into secrets!-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's Upon this warrant shall you have access, [Exil. Where you with Silvia may confer at large; For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you; 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; Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love You must lay lime, to tangle her desires, you, By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trench'd' 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?

SCENE II.—The same. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus be

hind.

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:-
For Orphens' 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 concert: to their instruments
so.-Tune a deploring dump ;4 the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining griev

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Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Dake. My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not
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 perseveres 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 spoke in
hate.

Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.
Dake. 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.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage

him,

Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the cffice is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.
Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,

(1) Graceful,

(2) Cut.

(3) Bird-lime.

ance.

This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love.

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in prac

tice:

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.
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A forest, near Mantua. Enter certain Out-laws.

1 Out. Fellows, 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 you;

(4) Mournful elegy.

(5) Choose out.

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