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t. But she did scorn a present that I wat her.

2. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.

*ber another; never give her o'er;

en at first makes after-love the more. 95 ed frown, 't is not in hate of you, ather to beget more love in you. do chide, 't is not to have you gone; y, the fools are mad, if left alone. repulse, whatever she doth say; get you gone," she doth not mean "away!"

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rand praise, commend, extol their graces; neer so black, say they have angels' faces.

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"My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,

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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 bestowed on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court, 165 By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love

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.]

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. Launce. Soho, soho!

Pro. What seest thou?

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What is your news?

IL

Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you

are vanished.

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From hence, from Silvia, and from me th 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 offered to th 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 becam
them

As if but now they waxed pale for woe.
But neither bended knees, pure hands hel

up,

Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-sheddin

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 the
thou speak'st

Have some malignant power upon my life;
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst m

help,

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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 henc
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 set

my boy.

Bid him make haste and meet me at the Nort

gate.

Prs. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valen

tine.

Val. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! [Exeunt Val. and Pro.] 260 Launce. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of Aknave; but that's all one, if he be but one Knare. He lives not now that knows me to be lore; yet I am in love; but a team of horse hall not pluck that from me; nor who 't is [265 I love; and yet 't is a woman; but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; rett is not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities [270 than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian Pulling out a paper.] Here is the elog of her condition. " Imprimis: She can fetch and carry." Why, a horse can do no more; Gay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; [275 therefore is she better than a jade. Item: She milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

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Launce. 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.

Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. 325 Speed. "Item: She is not to be [kiss'd] fasting, in respect of her breath."

Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.

Speed. Item: She hath a sweet mouth." [330 Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath.

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Speed. Item: : She doth talk in her sleep.' Launce. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

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Speed. "Item: She is slow in words." Launce. 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."

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Launce. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. Speed. "Item: She hath no teeth."

Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

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Speed. Item: She is curst."

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Launce. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Speed. "Item: She will often praise her [350 liquor."

Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall; if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised.

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Speed. Item: She is too liberal."

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Launce. 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.

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Speed. Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults."

Launce. Stop there; I'll have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more.

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Speed. Item: She hath more hair than

wit,

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Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love-letters! [Exit.] Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter; an unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit. 395

SCENE II. [The same. The Duke's palace.]

Enter DUKE and THURIO.

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

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her.

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Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
[Enter PROTEUS.]

How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman
According to our proclamation gone?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.

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Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that

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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

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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,
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

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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

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Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 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 instru

ments

Tune a deploring dump. The night's dea silence

Will well become such sweet-complaining griev

ance.

This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast beer 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!

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And show thee all the treasure we have got; 75 Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. [Milan. Outside the Duke's palace, under Silvia's window.]

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. When I protest true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; When to her beauty I commend my vows, She bids me think how I have been forsworn 10 In breaking faith with Julia whom I loved; 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. is

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