But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.

Val. Pleafe you, I'll write your Ladyfhip another. Sil. And when it's writ, for my fake read it over; And if it please you, fo; if not, why fo

Val. If it pleafe me, Madam, what then?

Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour; And fo good morrow, fervant.

Speed. O jeft unfeen, infcrutable, invifible,

[Exit.

As a nofe on a man's face, or a weather-cock on a

steeple !

My mafter fues to her, and the hath taught her fuitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor :

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my mafter, being the fcribe, to himself should write the letter?

Val. How now, Sir: what? are you reafoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the

reafon.

Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia.

Val. To whom?

Speed. To yourfelf; why, the wooes you by a figure. Val. What figure?

Speed. By a letter,. I fhould fay.

Val. Why, fhé hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need the,

When the hath made you write to yourself?

Why, do you not perceive the jeft?

Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you indeed, Sir: but did you

perceive her earnest ?

Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. Why, the hath given you a letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Speed. And that letter hath the deliver'd; and there's

an end.

Val. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often have you writ to her; and fhe in modefty, Or elfe for want of idle time, could not again reply s

Or

Or fearing elfe fome messenger, that might her mind dif

cover,

Herfelf hath taught her love himself to write unto her

lover.

All this I fpeak in print; for in print I found it.
Why mufe you, Sir? 'tis dinner-time.

Val. I have din'd.

Speed Ay, but hearken, Sir; though the Cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. Oh! be not like your mistrefs; be moved, be moved.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to Julia's house at Verona. Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.

Jul. I muft where is no remedy.

Pro. When poffibly I can, I will return.

Jul. If you turn not, you will return the fooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's fake.

[Giving a ring. Pro. Why, then, we'll make exchange; here take

you this.

Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kifs.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true conftancy;
And when that hour o'erflips me in the day,
Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake,
The next enfuing hour fome foul mischance,
Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming; answer not:
The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of tears;
That tide will stay me longer than I fhould.

[Exit Julia.
Julia, farewel. What! gone without a word?
Ay, fo true love fhould do; it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.

Enter Panthion.

Pan. Sir Protheus, you are ftaid for.

Pro. Go; I come.

Alas! this parting ftrikes poor lovers dumb. [Exeunt.

SCENE

·

SCENE III. Changes to a fireet.

Enter Launce, with his dog Crab.

:

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very 'fault. I have received my proportion like the prodigious fon, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the foureft-natur'd dog that lives My mother weeping, 'my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands and all our house in a great perplexity: yet did not this cruel-hearted cur thed one tear! He is a ftone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have feen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept hertelf • blind at my parting. Nay, I'll fhow you the manner of it: This fhoe is my father; no, this left fhoe is my father: no, no, this left fhoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be fo neither yes, it is io, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole This fhoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't, there 'tis. Now, ir, this ftaff is my filter; for, look you, fhe is as white as a lily, and as imall as a wand. This hat, is an, our maid; i am the dog: no, the dog is himself; and am the dog: oh, the dog is me, and I am myfelf; ay, fo, fo. Now come I to my father: Father, your bleffing: now fhould not the fhoe speak a word for weeping; now fhould I kifs my father; well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother; oh that fhe could speak now like a wode woman! well, I kifs her; why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my fifter; mark the moan fhe makes. Now the dog all this while fheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but fee how I lay the dust with my

· tears.

Enter Panthion.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy mafter is fhipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars: what's

the

the matter? why weep't thou, man? away, afs, you will lose the tide if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were loft, for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd.

Pant. What's the unkindeft tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thoul't lofe the flood, and in lofing the flood, lose thy voyage; and in lofing thy voyage, lofe thy mafter; and in lofing thy mafter lofe thy fervice; and in lofing thy fervice, why doft

thou ftop my mouth?

Laun. For fear thou fhould'ft lofe thy tongue.
Pant. Where fhould I lofe my tongue?

Laun. In thy tale.

Pant. In thy tail?

Laun. Lofe the flood, and the voyage, and the mafter, and the fervice, and the tide; why man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my fighs.

Pant. Come, come away, man; I was fent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'ft.

Pant. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Milan.

An apartment in the Duke's palace.

Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.

Sil. Servant,

Val. Miftrefs?

Speed. Mafter, Sir Thurio frowns on you,

Val Ay, boy, it's for love.

Speed Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

Speed 'Twere good you knock'd him.

Sil. Servant, you are fad.

Val. Indeed, Madam, I seem so.

Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply I do

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What feem I that I am not?

Val. Wife.

Thu What inftance of the contrary?

Val Your folly.

Thu. And how quote you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val Well then, I'll double your folly.
Thu How?

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour Val. Give him leave, Madam; he is a kind of Cameleon.

Thu That hath more mind to feed on' your blood, than live in your air.

Val You have faid, Sir

Thu. Ay, Sir, and done too for this time.

Val. I know it well, Sir, you always end ere you begin.

Sil. A fine volley of words, Gentlemen, and quickly fhot off.

Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, fervant?

Val Yourself, fweet Lady; for you gave the fire: Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your adyfhip's looks, and spends, what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I fhall make your wit bankrupt.

Val I know it well, sir, you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears, by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.

Sil. No more, Gentlemen, no more. my father.

Here comes

Enter the Duke.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What fay you to a letter from your friends

Of much good news?

Val. My Lord. I will be thankful

To any happy meffenger from thence.

Duke.