Imatges de pàgina
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Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke. But, she I mean is promis'd by her friends

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth;
And kept severely from resort of men,

That no man hath access by day to her.

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night.

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept
That no man hath recourse to her by night. [safe,
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window?
Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground;
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it

Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords,
To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,

So bold Leander would adventure it.

[that.

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.
Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone;
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak, that is of any length.

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn!
Val. Ay, my good lord.
Duke.

Then let me see thy cloak:

I'll get me one of such another length.

Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?-
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.-
What letter is this same? What's here?-To Silvia?
And here an engine fit for my proceeding!

1 Il be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads.
My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly;

And slaves they are to me, that send them flying:
0, could their master come and go as lightly, [ing.
Himself would lodge, where senseless they are ly-
My herald thoughts in

thy pure bosom rest them;

While I, their king, that thither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath

bless'd them,

Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should

What's here?

[be.

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

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd.

Pro. That thou art banish'd. O, that's the news;
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.'
Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?
Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,

up

(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 became
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
[them,
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafd him so,

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When she for thy repeal was suppliant,

And with thy daring folly burn the world?

That to close prison he commanded her,

Go, base intruder! over-weening slave!

Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates;

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? With many bitter threats of 'biding there. [speak'st

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 bestow'd on thec.
But if thou linger in my territories,
Langer than swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
Dy heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
Lever 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 Duke.

ner,

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

Val. No more; unless the next word that thou
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 not help,
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 hence
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, and if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste, 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 Proteus. 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 but one knave. He lives not

now that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love; that I 'll keep shut: now of another thing she may; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; and that cannot I help? Well, proceed.

nor who 't is I love, and yet 't is a woman: but what Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 't is a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare-christian. Here is the cate-log [Pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Rehearse that once more.

Enter Speed.

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

Laun. With my master's ship? why it is at sea.
Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word:

What news then in your paper?

Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.

Speed. Why, man, how black?

Laun. Why, as black as ink.

Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fye on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee tell me this: Who begot
thee?

Spoed. Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves, that thou canst 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 she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, Laun. More hair than wit, it may be; I 'll prove it; The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hairs,

Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gracious:
Well, I 'll have her And if it be a match, as no-
thing is impossible,-

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then will I tell thee,-that thy master stays for thee at the north gate.

Speed. For me?

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Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, can she so?

Speed. Item, She can knit.

SCENE II.-Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus behind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love
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.

[you,

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure

wench, when she can knit him a stock.

Trenched in ice; which with an hour's heat

Speed. Item, She can wash and scour.

Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.

washed and scoured.

Speed. She can spin.

And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.-
How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?

Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not be A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,

Laun. Then I may set the world on wheels, when

she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. Laun. 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.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.

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

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.

Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.

Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.-
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee,

(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,)
Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace.

Duke. Thou know'st, how willingly I would effect
The match between sir Thurio and my daughter.
Pro. I do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

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Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
What might we do, to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?
Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duke. Ay, but she 'll think, that it is spoke in

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:

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Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.

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It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Without false vantage, or base treachery.

She shall not long continue love to him.

But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse:

I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;

But yet I slew him manfully in fight,

Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,

You must provide to bottom it on me;

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

Which must be done, by praising me as much

As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

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

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For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this

And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
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 tears
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity:

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
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 instruments

Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in prac

tice.

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Val. My youthful travel therein made me 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. Tell us this: Have you anything to take to?

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful men:
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.
2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,
Whom, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart.
1 Out. And I, for such like 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 beautified
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 to 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 con-

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SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the Palace.
Enter Proteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

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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
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
The more it grows, and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening music to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Musicians.

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Thu. Who? Silvia?

Pro.

Thu.

Ay, Silvia, for your sake.

I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,

Let 's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

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did lend her,

Holy, fair, and wise is she,
The heaven such grace
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 music 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.

Ful. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music!

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, doth 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.

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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.

Ful. 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;
To that I'll speak, to that I 'll sigh and weep:
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;

And to your shadow will I make true love.

Ful. If 't were a substance, you would, sure, de

ceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;

[A side.

But, since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I 'll send it:

And so, good rest.

Pro. As wretches have o'er-night,

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above.

Jul. Host, will you go?

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
Ful. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus?

Host. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think, 't is almost day.

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

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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.

According to your ladyship's impose,

I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.
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 loved; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,

Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,

Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

Sil. What is your will?

To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,

Pro. That I may compass yours.

Upon whose faith and honour I repose.

Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this, Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,

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 so far from granting thy request,

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SCENE IV. - The same.

Enter Launce, with his dog.

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas!

Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.

Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?

Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well As you do love your lady Silvia:

She dreams on him that has forgot her love,

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! You dote on her that cares not for your love. I have taught him even as one would say precisely, 'T is pity, love should be so contrary; Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver And thinking on it makes me cry, alas! him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but This letter;-that 's her chamber.-Tell my lady, he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. leg. O, 't is a foul thing when a cur cannot keep Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, himself in all companies! I would have, as one Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog in

[Exit Proteus.

deed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had Jul. How many women would do such a message? not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs: 1; sure as I live he had suffer'd for 't: you shall Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of That with his very heart despiseth me? free or four gentlemen-like dogs, under the duke's Because he loves her, he despiseth me; table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a Because I love him, I must pity him. pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. Out This ring I gave him, when he parted from me, with the dog, says one; What cur is that? says To bind him to remember my good will:

And now am I (unhappy messenger)

To plead for that, which I would not obtain;
To carry that which I would have refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd,

another; Whip him out, says the third; Hang him , says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog? Ay, marry, do I, quoth I am my master's true confirmed love; Le. You do him the more wrong, quoth 1; 't was I did the thing you wot of. He makes me no more Unless I prove false traitor to myself. ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I '11 As, Heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.

be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he bath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I

have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, therwise he had suffer'd for 't: thou think'st not of Lais now !-Nay, I remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not Ibid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When ildst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water gainst a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will employ thee in some service presently.
Jul. In what you please.-I 'll do what I can.
Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson
[To Launce.

peasant?

Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. 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?

But cannot be true servant to my master,
Yet I will woo for him; but yet so coldly,

Enter Silvia, attended.

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[Picture brought.

Go, give your master this tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.--
Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd
Delivered you a paper that I should not:
This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.

I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know they are stuff'd with protestations,

Laun. No, indeed, did she not here have I And full of new-found oaths; which he will break,

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 market-place: 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 iny 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.

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

[Exit Launce.

As easily as I do tear his paper.

Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul. She thanks you.

Sil. What say'st thou?

Jul. I thank you, madain, that you tender her:
Poor gentlewoman! my inaster wrongs her much.
Sil. Dost thou know her?

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