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.

JUL. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

HOST. I perceive you delight not in music.
JUL. Not a whit, when it jars so.
HOST. Hark, what fine change is in the music!
JUL. Ay, that change is the spite.

HOST. You would have them always play but one thing.

JUL. I would always have one play but one

thing.

But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

HOST. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me; he loved her out of all nick.b

a The music likes you not.] That is, pleases you not. b Out of all nick.] Beyond all reckoning. It was the custom formerly to reckon by the nicks or notches cut upon the tallystick. Steevens, in a note to this passage, quotes a very apposite

JUL. Where is Launce?

HOST. Gone to seek his dog; which, tomorrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

JUL. Peace! stand aside! the company parts.
PRO. Sir Thurio, fear not you! I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
THU. Where meet we?

PRO. At Saint Gregory's well.
THU. Farewell.

[Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.

SIL. You have your wish; my will is even this,—
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,

That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,-by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
PRO. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

JUL. 'T were false, if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

[Aside.

SIL. Say that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,

I am betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

PRO. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. SIL. And so suppose am I; for in his grave Assure thyself my love is buried.

PRO. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. SIL. Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence;

Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

JUL. He heard not that.

your

[Aside.

PRO. Madam, if heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber; To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep: For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow will I make true love.

JUL. If 't were a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside.

SIL. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
And so, good rest.

PRO.
As wretches have o'er-night,
That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt PROTEUS; and SILVIA, from above. JUL. Host, will you go?

HOST. By my halidom," I was fast asleep. JUL. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ? HOST. Marry, at my house: trust me, I think 't is almost day.

SCENE III.-The same.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

с

[Exeunt.

morrow.

EGL. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,d
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

SIL. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr❜d.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.(1)
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode ;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which Heaven and fortune still reward with
plagues.

I do desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

EGL. Madam, I pity much your grievances;"
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;
Recking as little what betideth me

As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?

SIL. This evening coming.

EGL. Where shall I meet you?
SIL. At friar Patrick's cell,
Where I intend holy confession.
EGL. I will not fail your ladyship:
Good morrow, gentle lady.

SIL. Good morrow, kind sir Eglamour. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same.

Enter LAUNCE, with his dog.

When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him-even as one would say precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O, 't is a foul thing

But this, as it has been remarked, would make Sir Eglamour bestow his pity on the most true affections as well as on the grievances. Unless, as I have sometimes thought, grievances in Shakespeare's age occasionally bore the meaning of sorrowful or crossed affections, the corruption would seem to lie in the word plac'd, which may have been a misprint for caused, or some word to the same effect.

when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies ! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for 't; sure as I live he had suffer'd for 't: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemanlike dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark !) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one; What cur is that? says another; Whip him out, says a third; Hang him up, says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I; 't was I did the thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for 't thou think'st not of this now!-Nay, I remember the trick you served me when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA,

PRO. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. JUL. In what you please.-I'll do what I can. PRO. I hope thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson peasant; [TO LAUNCE. Where have you been these two days loitering? LAUN. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

PRO. And what says she to my little jewel? LAUN. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

PRO. But she received my dog?

LAUN. No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him back again.

PRO. What, didst thou offer her this from me?

(*) First folio, his.

a That still an end-] Still an end and most an end were common forms of speech, and signified constantly, perpetually. "Now help, good heaven, 'tis such an uncouth thing To be a widow out of term time! I

Do feel such aguish qualms, and dumps, and fits,
And shakings still an end."-The Ordinary.
33

LAUN. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the marketplace: and then I offered her mine own; who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

PRO. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again,

Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say: Stay'st thou to vex me here?
[Exit LAUNCE.

A slave, that still an end turns me to shame.
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 't is no trusting to yon foolish lout;
But, chiefly, for thy face and thy behaviour;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia :

She lov'd me well, deliver'd it to me.

JUL. It seems you lov'd not her to leave her token:

She is dead, belike?

PRO. Not so; I think she lives.
JUL. Alas!

PRO. Why dost thou cry, alas!
JUL. I cannot choose but pity her.

PRO. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

· JUL. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well

As you do love your lady Silvia :

She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
"T is pity, love should be so contrary ;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

PRO. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal This letter-that 's her chamber.-Tell my lady, I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary.

[Exit PROTEUS. JUL. How many women would do such a message?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,

b To leave her token :] The old copy has

"It seems you lov'd not her, not leave her token." The second not, there can be little doubt, was a misprint for to. To leave means to part with, to give away.

To bind him to remember my good will:
And now am I (unhappy messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtain :
To carry that, which I would have refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true confirmed love;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
As, Heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.

Enter SILVIA, attended.

Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia.
SIL. What would you with her, if that I be she?
JUL. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
SIL. From whom?

JUL. From my master, sir Proteus, madam.
SIL. O-he sends you for a picture?

JUL. Ay, madam.

SIL. Ursula, bring my picture there. [Picture brought. Go, give your master this: tell him, from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow.

JUL. Madam, please you peruse this letter.-Pardon me, madam; I have, unadvis'd Deliver'd you a paper that I should not: This is the letter to your ladyship.

SIL. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
JUL. It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
SIL. There, hold.

I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break,
As easily as I do tear his paper.

JUL. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
SIL. The more shame for him that he sends

it me;

For, I have heard him say a thousand times,