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Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances j* Which since I know they virtuously are placed, I give consent to go along with you; Recking as little what bctidcth 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.

Sll. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. [Exeunt.

a / pity much your grievances;

Which since I knout they virtuously are placed, &c] Mr. Collier's old annotator, seeing the difficulty here, intercalates a line:—

"Madam, 1 pity much your grievances,
And the most true affections that you bear,
Which since I know," &c.

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.

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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 1 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 Laukce. 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, Am. » That's 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 anguish qualms, and dumps, and fits, And shakings still an end."The Ordinary.

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 leaveb 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 loved 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.

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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 refused ;

To praise his faith, which I would have dispraised.

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,

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