ページの画像
PDF
ePub

What letter is this fame ? what's here? To Silvia
And here an engine fit for my proceeding?
I'll be fo bold to break the feal for once. [Duke reads.
My thoughts do barbour with my Silvia nightly,
And flaves they are to me, that fend them flying:
Ob, could their mafter come and go as lightly,

Himself would todge, where fenfelefs they are lying:
My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom reft them,

While I, their King, that thither them importune, Do curfe the grace, that with fuch grace bath bleft them, Because myself do want my fervant's fortune;

I curfe myself, for they are fent by me,

That they should harbour, where their lord would be. What's here? Silvia, this night will I enfranchise ther "Tis fo, and here's the ladder for the purpose.

Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops fon,

Wilt thou afpire 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!
Beftow thy fawning fmiles on equal mates;
And think, my patience, more than thy deferz,
Js 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 fwifteft expedition

[ocr errors]

Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heav'n, my wrath fhall far exceed the love, 1 ever bore my daughter or thy felf:

Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe,

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

But as thou lov'ft thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit.
Val. And why not death, rather than living forment?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself:
And Silvia is myfelf; banish'd from her,
Is felf from felf: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not feen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think, that he is by;
And feed upon the fhadow of perfection.

Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no mufick in the nightingales
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

[ocr errors]

There is no day for me to look upon ajabu nd join
She is my effence, and I leave to be, gel, spond
If I be not by her fair influence

[ocr errors]

"

[ocr errors]

Fofter'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive, less
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 Protheus and Launce.

Pro Run, boy, run, run, and feck him out.

Laun. So-ho! fo-ho!

Pro. What feeft thou?

Laun. Him we go to find:

There's not an hair on's head, but is a Valentine.

[blocks in formation]

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Laun. Can nothing fpeak? mafter, fhall I ftrike ?
Pro. Whom wouldst thou ftrike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, Sir, I'll ftrike nothing; I pray you, Pro. Ifay, forbear: friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news; So much of bad already hath poffeft them.

Pro. Then in dumb filence 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 forfworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

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

Laun

Lawn. Sir, there's, a proclamation that you are yanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'd; oh, that is the news,> From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already; And now excels of it will make me furfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished ?

Pro. Ay, ay and the hath offer'd to the doom,
Which unreyers'd ftands in effectual force,.>
A fea of melting pearl, which fome call tears
Thofe at her father's churlish feet the tender'd,
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf;
Wringing her hands, whole whiteness fo became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe.

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompaffionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, muft die.
Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him fo,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to clofe prifon he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou speak'st, Have fome malignant power upon my life:

If fo, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canst not help,
And ftudy help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good:
Here if thou ftay, thou canst not fee thy love;
Befides, thy ftaying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's ftaff; walk hence with that;
And manage it against defpairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, tho' thou art hence,
Which being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Ev'n in the milk-white bofom of thy love.
The time now ferves not to expoftulate;
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't Silvia, tho” not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an' if thou feest my boy, Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate Pro. Go, Sirrah, find him out: come, Valentine. 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 mafter is a kind of a knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in love, yet I am in love; but a team of horfe fhall not pluck that from me, nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman I will not tell myself, and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for the hath had goffips; yet 'tis a maid, for the is her mafter's maid, and ferves for wages: he hath more qualities than a water fpaniel, which is much in a bare chri ftian. Here is the cat-log (Pulling out a paper of her conditions; Imprimis, he can fetch and carry; why, a horfe can do no more; nay, a horfe cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore the is better than a jade. Item, fhe can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, fignior Launce? what news with your mastership?/

Laun. With my mafter's fhip? why, it is at fea. (11) Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; miftake the word: what news then in your paper?

(11) With my Maftership? why, its at Sea.] Thefe Poetical Editors are pleafant Gentlemen' to let this pafs without any Sufpicion. For how does Launce miftake the Word? Speed afks him about his Mafterfhip, and he replies to it litteratim. 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: It reffores, indeed, but a mean. Joke; but, without it, there is no Senfe in the Paffage. Befides, it is in Character with the rest of the Scene; and, I dare be confident, the Poet's own Conceit.

Laun.

[ocr errors]

Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st,
Speed. Why, man, how black reglu
Laun. Why, as black as ink. »

Speed. Let me read them

La Fie on thee, jolt head, thou can't not read.
Speed. Thou lyeft, I can. --

[ocr errors]

Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee? Speed. Marry, the fon of my grand father.c

Laun. O illiterate loiterer, it was the fon of thy grand-mother; this proves, that thou can'st not read. Speed. Come, fool, come, try me in thy paper. Laun. There, and St. Nicholas be thy speed! • Speed. Imprimis, she can milk...

Laun. Ay, that the can.

Speed. Item, the brews good ale.

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb, Bleffing of your bears, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, the can fowe

Laan. That's as much as to fay, Can be fo?

Speed. Item, the can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when the can knit him a ftock!

[ocr errors]

Speed. Item, the can wash and scour.

Laun. A fpecial virtue, for then the need not to be wafh'd and fcour'd.

Speed. Item, She can fpin.

Laun. Then may I fet the world on wheels, when the can fpin for her living.

Speed. Item, the hath many nameless virtues.

[ocr errors]

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

ino namės.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Clofe at the heels of her virtues.

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

I

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

Speed. Item, the hath a fweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her four breath.

Speed.

« 前へ次へ »