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.

Art Fourth.

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;

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.
Val. My friends,--

[mies. 1 Out. That's not so, sir; we are your ene2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him.

3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a

proper man.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to

I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.

1 Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so; But were you banish'd for so small a fault?

Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 1 Out. Have you the tongues?

Val. My youthful travel therein made met happy;

Or else I often had been miserable.

3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat
friar,

This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1 Out. We'll have him; sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is an honourable kind of thievery.

Val. Peace, villain!

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,
Whom, in my mood, I stabbed unto the heart."
1 Out. And I, for such petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose,-(for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives,)
And, partly, seeing you are beautify'd
With goodly shape; and by your own report
A linguist; and a man of such perfection,
As we do in our quality much want:-

2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parley you:
Are you content to be our general?
To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our
consort ?

Say ay, and be the captain of us all;
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander and our king.
1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou
diest.

2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we
have offer'd.

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you:
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers.

3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices, Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, And shew thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Milan. Court of the Palace.

Enter PROTEUS.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her
window,

And give some evening musick to her ear.
Enter THURIO, and Musicians.
Thu. How now, Sir Proteus? are you crept
before us?

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.
Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that you love not

here.

2 Out. Tell us this: Have you any thing to Enter Host, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes.

take to?

Val. Nothing but my fortune.

3 Out. Know, then, that some of us are gen-
tlemen,

Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Veroua banish'd,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

Host. Now, my young guest! methinks, you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it? Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be

Jul. That will be musick.
Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

[Musick plays. 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.

Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Sylvia? What is she,

That all her swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she:

The heavens such grace did lend her;
That she might admired be.

Is she kind, as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing,

Upon the dull earth dwelling;
To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now? are you sadder than you
were before?

How do you, man? the musick likes you not
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 musick.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
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, does 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.

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, 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 THU. and Musicians.

SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?

Jul. "Twere 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.

[Aside.

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

And to your shadow will I make true love. Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside.

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

Pro.

That wait for execution in the morn.
As wretches have o'ernight

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

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
Jul. 'Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?
'tis almost day.
Host. Marry, at my house: Trust me I think,

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest.

SCENE III. The same.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

[Exeunt.

Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia
There's some great matter she'd employ me in.---
Entreated me to call and know her mind:
Madam, madam!

SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Sil. Who calls?

Egl. Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-

morrow.

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

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will?

Pro. That I may compass yours. [this,-
Sil. You have your wish; my will is even
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,

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 truelove died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
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,

D

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 placed,
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.

SCENE IV. The same.

Enter LAUNCE, with his dog.

[Exeunt.

Pro. I hope, thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson peasant! [To LAUNCE. Where have you been these two days loitering? Pro. 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? 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?
A slave, that, still an end turns me to shame.
[Exit LAUNCE.
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt;
But, chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour:
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to Madam Silvia:

She loved me well deliver'd it to me.

Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her
She's dead, belike.
[token:

Pro. Not so; I think she lives.
Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul. I cannot chose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as
As you do love your lady Silvia: [well
She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
"Tis pity, love should be so contrary:
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

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. 'tis a foul thing, 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 gentleman-like 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 the third; Hang him up, says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it Jul. How many women would do such a meswas Crab; then goes me to the fellow that whips Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast entertained [sage? the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs: dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You do him the more Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of That with his very heart despiseth me? He makes me no more ado, but whips me out Because he loves her, he despiseth me; of the chamber. How many masters would do Because I love him, I must pity him. this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have This ring I gave him, when he parted from me, sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, To bind him to remember my good-will: otherwise he had been executed: I have stood And now am I (unhappy messenger!) on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise

I

Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal, This letter; that's her chamber.-Tell mylady, 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.

he had suffered for't: thou think'st not of this To plead for that, which I would not obtain; now!--Nay, I remember the trick you served To carry that, which I would have refus'd; me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia: did To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd. I am my master's true confirmed love: not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? But cannot be true servant to my master, When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and Unless I prove false traitor to myself. make water against a gentlewoman's farthin-Yet I will woo for him: but yet so coldly, gale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick? As,heaven, it knows, I would not have him speed.

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

Enter SILVIA, attended.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean Jul. In what you please; I will do what I can. To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia.

Duke. Saw you my daughter?
Pro. Neither.

Duke. Why, then she's fled unto that peasant And Eglamour is in her company. [Valentine; 'Tis true, for friar Laurence met them both,

As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she;
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it:
Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick's cell this even: and there she was not:
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain foot [fled:
That leads towards Mantua, whither they are
Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.

[Exit.

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her: I'll after; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour, Than for the love of reckless Silvia.

| Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia,
Thou gentle nymph,cherish thy forlorn swain!—
What halloing, and what stir is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills
their law,

Have some unhappy passenger in chase:
They love me well; yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine; who's this comes
[Steps aside.
Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA.

here?

Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
O, heaven be judge, how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul;
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I do detest false perjur'd Proteus:
Therefore begone, solicit me no more. [death,
Would I not undergo for one calmn look?
Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to

[Exit. Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [Exit. Jul. And I will follow more to cross that love,, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, When women cannot love where they're beloved. Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd.

[Exit.

SCENE III. Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest.
Enter SILVIA, and Out-laws.

Out. Come, come;

Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances thanthis one
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
2 Out. Come, bring her away. [her?
1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with
3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us,
But Moyses and Valerius follow him.
Go thou with her to the west end of the wood,
There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled,
The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape.

1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's
Fear not: he bears an honourable mind, [cave:
And will not use a woman lawlessly.
Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee!

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Enter VALENTINE.

Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that does inhabit in my breast,