How shall I best convey the ladder thither? 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?

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:

O, could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying.

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that thither 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.

"T is 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!
Bestow 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

a Merops' son,-] "Thou art Phaëton in thy rashness, but without his pretensions: thou art not the son of a divinity, but a terræ filius, a low-born wretch; Merops is thy true father, with whom Phaeton was falsely reproached."-JOHNSON.

b I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:] This is somewhat obscure. Mr. Singer reads:

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 hence.
[Exit DUKE.
VAL. And why not death, rather than living
torment?

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?
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.
I 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.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

PRO. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LAUN. So-ho! so-ho!

PRO. What seest thou?

LAUN. Him we go to find:

There's not a hair on 's head, but 't is a Valentine. PRO. Valentine?

VAL. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me?

PRO. No, Valentine.

VAL. NoValentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news?

LAUN. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

PRO. That thou art banished. O, that's the

news;

From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend.
VAL. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

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 woe:

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.
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 thee, breathe it in mine ear,
pray

As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

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 city 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.

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 a knave but that's all one, if he be but one 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 't is I love, and yet 't is a woman: but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 't is a maid, for she is 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 cate-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.

a If he be but one knave.] Warburton very plausibly proposed to read-if he be but one kind." Something, however, leading to Launce's love confession, appears to have been omitted. Possibly the poet wrote, “But that's all one, if he be but one in love.”

The second knave may have been repeated, repetition being a very common compositor's error, instead of the words in love, which seem naturally enough to precede, "He lives not now that knows me to be in love."

LAUN. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing 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 scour. LAUN. A special virtue; for then 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. 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 is not to be 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.

a You brew good ale.]

"Our ale 's o' the best,

And each good guest
Prays for their souls that brew it."

Masque of Augurs, BEN JONSON.

LAUN. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

SPEED. Item, She is slow in words.

LAUN. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with 't; and place it for her chief virtue.

SPEED. Item, She is proud.

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

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 bite.

SPEED. She will often praise her liquor. LAUN. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. SPEED. Item, She is too liberal.

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 cannot I help. Well, proceed.

SPEED. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.

b She is not to be fasting,-] So the folio. The word kissed, which is found in the modern editions, was added by Rowe.

She hath a sweet mouth.] As we now say, a liquorish tooth. d More hair than wit,-] A well-known old English proverb. Steevens has given many instances of its occurrence in the old writers.

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 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 therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

SPEED. And more faults than hairs,— LAUN. That's monstrous: 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?

:

PRO. Gone, my good lord.
DUKE. My daughter takes his going grievously.
PRO. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
DUKE. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not

SO.

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

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

DUKE. Then you must undertake to slander him. PRO. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: "T is 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 office is indifferent,

Being entreated to it by your friend.

PRO. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it,

By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
But, say this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.
THU. Therefore, as you unwind her love from
him,

Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me ;
Which must be done by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

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

Because we know, on Valentine's report,

familiar with:

"A bottome for your silke it seems
My letters are become,
Which oft with winding off and on
Are wasted whole and some."

GRANGE'S Garden, 1557.

You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
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;
You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes.
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
DUKE. Ay, much is 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 Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans

a Discover such integrity:] Malone supposed that a line following this had been lost. I rather suspect some corruption in the words such integrity.

b With some sweet consort:] Consort is the reading of the old copy, and is certainly correct. The modern editors, for the most

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 shows 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