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What letter is this fame'? what's here. To Silvia
And here an engine fit for my proceeding?
I'll be so bold to break the feal for once. [Dukė read,
My thoughts do barbour with my Silvia nigbtly.

And flaves they are to me, thar fend them flying:
Ob, could obeir mafter come and go as lightly,

Himself would lodge, where Jenseless they are lying My herald tbcughts in by pure bosom rep theo,

While I, their King, that thirber vbem importune, Do curse the grace, that with such grace bath bleft them,

Because myself do want my fervant's fortune ; 7 curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they jould barbour, where their lord would be. What's here? Silvia, this night will I enfranchise whet: 'Tis so, and here's the ladder for the purpofe. Why, Phaëton, for thou art Meraps 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, bafe intruder! over-weening flave! 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 finger in my territories, Longer than swifteft expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heav'n, my wrath fhall far exceed the love, I ever bore my daughter or thy felf: Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe, Put as they lov's thy life, make fpeed from hende. (Exit.

l'al. And why not death, rather than living forment? To die, is to be banished from myself And Silvia is myself; banish'd froin' her, Is self from felf: a'deadly banithment ! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen7: What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think, that she' is by ;

1 And feed apon the shadow of perfection.

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Except I be by Silvia in the nighty
There is no mufick in the nightingalese mothers
Unless I look on Silvia in the day, wie
There is no day for me to look upon the stand
She is my essence, and I leave to be as
If I be not by her fair influence
Fofter'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 hy 1 hence, I fly away from life.

Enter Protheus 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 an hair on's head, but is a Valentines

Pro. Valentine,
Val. No.
Pre. Who then; his fpirit?
Val. Neither.
Pro. What then!
Pal. Nothing.
Laun. Can nothing speak? mafter, thall I Atrike?
Pro. Whom wouldAt thou Arike?
Laun. Nothing.
Pro. Villain, forbear.
Laun. Why, Sir, I'll Atrike nothing; I pray you,-
Pro. [ fay, forbear : friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news ; So much of bad already hach poíTeft them.

Pre. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine;
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.

Val. Is Silvia dead?
Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!
Hath the forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Şilvia have forsworn me! What is your news ?

Laur.

Laun. Sir, there's a praclaination that you are vanishd.

Pro. That thou are banishid; oh, that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Vol. Oh, I have fed a pon this woe already i
And now excess of it will make me furfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished

Prm9Ay, ay and he hath offer'd co the doom,
Which unrevers' ftands, in effettual force,
A sea of melting pearl, which fome, call tears :

Those at her father's churlilh feet she tender'd, tit.
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became theme
As if but now they waxed pale for woe.
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-thedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompasionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta’en, muft die.
Befides, her interceflion chaf'd him fo,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to clofe prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou speak'it,
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. Ceale to lament for that thou canft not help,
And ftudy help for that which thou lament'ft.
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 Itaff; walk hence with that;
And manage it againft despairing thoughts.
Thy letiers may be here, tho' thou art hence,
Which being writ to me, shall be deliver'de
Ev’n in the milk-white boom of thy love. .
The time now serves not to expoftulate;
Come, I'll convey the through the city.gate;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs :

As

As thou lov'it Silvia, tho* not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an' if thou feeft my boy Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate;

Pro. Go, Sirrah, find him out: come, Vaknting,
Val. O my dear Silvia, hapless Valentine:

** [Exeunt Valentine and Protheus. 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 bot one knave. He lives not now thas knows me to be in love, yet I am in love; but a tean of horse Thall not pluck that from me, nor who 'ois I love, and

yet

'tis a woman, but what woman I will not tell myself, and yet 'tis a milk-maid ; yet 'tis pot a maid, for the hath had goftops ;' yet'tis a maid, for the is her matter's maid, and ferves for wages : Mhe hath more qualities than a water spaniel, which is much in a bare chri. ftian. Here is the cat-log (Pulling out a paper] of her conditions ; Imprimis, she can fetch and carry, why, a horse can do no more; nay, a-borse cannot fetch, but only carry ; therefore she is better than a jade. ltem, the can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid wich clean hands.

Enter Speed. Speed. 'How now, fignior Launce ?, what news with your mastership?, *,!

Laun. With my master's thip? why, it is at sea. (11)

Speed. Well; your old vice ftill ; mistake the word: what news then in your paper ?

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(11) With my Maftership? wby, it is at Sea.] Thefe Poetical Editors are pleasant Gentlemen to let this pafs without any Suspicion. For how does launce miftake the Word ? Speed asks him about his Mastership, and he replies to it litterarim. But then how was his Maftership at Sea, and on Shore too? The Addition of a Letter and a Note of Apoftrophe make Launce both mistake the Word, and fets the Pun right : Iç restores, indeed, but a mean. Joke; but, without it, there is no Senfe in the Passage. Besides, it is in Character with the rest of the Scene; and, I dare be confident, the Poet's own Conceit,

Laun.

Lawn. The blackeft news that ever thou heard it.
Speed. Why, man, how black
Laun. Why, as black as inki 23.01
Speed. Let me read them. 7-}
Lawn Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou can't not read.
Speed. Thou Jyeft, I can.** wife has
Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee }
Speed. Marry, the fon of my grandfather.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer, it was the fon of thy grand-mother ; this proves, that thou can't not read,

Specd. Come, fool, come, try me in thy paper.
Laun. There, and St. Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed. Imprimis, fhe can milk....
Laun. Ay, that she can.
Speed. Item, the brews good ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb, Bleffing of pour beart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, she can fowes
Laan. That's as much as to say, Can fba jo?
Speed. Item, she can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a ftock with a wench,
when the can knit him a stock-!
Speed. Item, she can wash and scour.

Laun. A special virtue, for then the need not to be wash'd and fcqur'd,

Speed. Item, She can fpin.

Laun. Then may 1 fet the world on wheels, when the can spin for her living.

riya Speed. Item, she hath many nameless virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to fay, Baftard Virtuess that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have ino names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.
Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, the is not to be kit falling, in respect of her breath.

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfaft : read on.

Speed. Item, she hath a sweet mouth.
Laun, That makes amends for her four breath.

Speed.

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