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Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him fo,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to close prifon he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val. No more, unless the next word that thou speak'st
Have fome malignant power upon my life:

If fo, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Ceafe 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 fee thy love;
Befides, thy ftaying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's ftaff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, fhall be deliver'd
Ev'n in the milk-white bofom of thy love.
The time now ferves not to expoftulate;
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'ft Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, and if thou feeft my boy,
Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate.
Pro. Go, firrah, find him out: come, Valentine.
Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!

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[Exeunt.

Laun. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think my mafter is a kind of a knave: but that's all one, if he be but one kind of 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 who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but

what

what woman I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid ; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had goffips; yet 'tis a maid, for The is her master's maid, and ferves for wages: The 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 fetch, but only carry; therefore is she better than a jade. Item, she can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Enter Speed.

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

Laun. With my master's fhip? why, it is at sea.

Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; miftake 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. Fie on thee, jolthead, thou can'ft not read.

Speed. Thou lieft, I can.

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

Speed. Marry, the son of my grand-father.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer, it was the son of thy grand

mother; this proves that thou canst not read.

you

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, fhe brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, Blessing of your heart,

brew good ale.

Speed. Item, fhe can fow.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, can she fo?

Speed. Item, fhe can knit.

Laun.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when fhe can knit him a ftock!

Speed. Item, fhe can wash and scour.

Laun. A special virtue, for then she need not to be wash'd

and fcour'd.

Speed. Item, fhe can spin.

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

Speed. Item, the hath many nameless virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, baftard virtues, that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Clofe at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, fhe is not to be kiss'd fafting, in refpect of her breath. Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on. Speed. Item, fhe hath a fweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her four breath.

Speed. Item, fhe doth talk in her fleep.

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. Speed. Item, fhe is flow in words.

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

Speed. Item, fhe is proud.

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

Speed. Item, fhe hath no teeth.

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

Speed. Item, fhe is curft.

Laun. Well, the best is, fhe hath no teeth to bite.

Speed. Item, the will often praise her liquor.

Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall; if she will not, I

will, for good things fhould be praised.

Speed. Item, fhe is too liberal.

Laun. Of her tongue fhe cannot, for that's writ down fhe is flow of; of her purse the shall not, for that I'll keep fhut; now,

VOL. I.

A a

of

of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, the hath more hairs than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her; fhe was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that article. Rehearse that once more. Speed. Item, fhe hath more hair than wit.

Laun. More hair than wit; it may be, I'll prove it: the cover of the falt hides the falt, and therefore it is more than the falt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit; for the greater hides the lefs. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs.

Laun. That's monftrous: 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 stay'd for a better man than thee.

Speed. And muft I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him; for thou haft stay'd so long that going will scarce serve the turn.

Speed. Why didft not tell me fooner? pox on your love-letters! Laun. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter: an unmannerly flave, that will thrust himself into fecrets. I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Enter Duke and Thurio.

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her fight.

Thu. Since his exile fhe hath despis'd me most,

Forfworn my company, and rail'd at me,

That

That I am defperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak imprefs of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
Diffolves to water, and doth lofe his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthless Valentine fhall be forgot.

Enter Protheus.

How now, fir Protheus? is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke. My daughter takes his going heavily.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not fo.
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,
(For thou haft shown some sign of good defert)
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'ft, how willingly I would effect
The match between fir Thurio and my daughter.
Pro. I do, my lord.

Duke. And alfo, I do think, thou art not ignorant
How the opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duke. Ay, and perverfely the perfevers fo.
What might we do to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine, and love fir Thurio?
Pro. The best way is to flander Valentine
With falfhood, cowardice, and poor descent:
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duke. Ay, but he'll think that it is spoke in hate.
Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:

Therefore it must with circumftance be spoken
By one whom the esteemeth as his friend.

Duke. Then you must undertake to flander him.

A a 2

Pro.

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