Imatges de pÓgina

In a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves, When no man was his own.

Alon. Give me your hands:

That could controul the moon, make flows and ebbs,
And deal in her command, without her power:

[To Fer. and Mir. These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil
(For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them
To take my life: two of these fellows you
Must know, and own; this thing of darkness I

Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart, That doth not wish you joy!

Gon. Be't so! Amen!

Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain Acknowledge mine.

amazedly following.

O look, sir, look, sir! here are more of us. I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,


This fellow could not drown: - Now, blasphemy,
That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?
Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found
Our king, and company; the next, our ship,-
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split, -
Istight, and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when
We first put out to sea.
Ari. Sir, all this service
Have I done, since I went.
Pro. My tricksy spirit!
Alon. These are not natural events; they strengthen
From strange to stranger :- Say, how came you hither?
Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
And (how, we know not,) all clapp'd under hatches,
Where, but even now, with strange and several noises
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awak'd; straightway, atliberty:
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master
Capering to eye her: On a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
And were brought moping hither.

Ari. Was't well done?

Pro. Bravely, my diligence! Thou shalt

be free.



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cious sir?

There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads, that you remember not.
Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and
TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.

Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune:-Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio!

Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight.

Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid

He will chastise me.

Seb. Ha, ha!

What things are these, my lord Antonio?

Will money buy them?

Ant. Very like; one of them

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.

Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say, if they be true!-This mis-shapen knave, His mother was a witch; and one so strong

Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death.

Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
Seb. He is drunk now: where had he wine?

Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: Where should they

Find this grand liquor, that hath gilded them? —
How cam'st thou in this pickle?

Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Seb. Why, how now, Stephano?

Ste. O touch me not! I am not Stephano, but a cramp.
Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah?
Ste. I should have been a sore one then.
Alon. This is as strange a thing, as e'er I look'd on.
[Pointing to Caliban.

Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners,
As in his shape: Go, sirrah, to my cell;
Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely!

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace: What a thrice-double ass
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool!

Pro. Go to; away!

Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it!

your rest

Seb. Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt Cal. Ste. and Trin.
Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train,
To my poor cell where you shall take
For this one night; which (part of it,) I'll waste
With such discourse, as, Inot doubt, shall make it
Go quick away: the story of my life,

And the particular accidents, gone by,
Since I came to this isle. And in the morn,
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd,
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
Alon. I long

To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
Pro. I'll deliver all;

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. - My Ariel!-- chick, —
That is thy charge; then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well! - [Aside.] — Please you

draw near!



Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own;
Which is most faint: Now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples: Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hands!
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,


better, than a jade. Item, She can milk; look you,| Laun. Stop there! I'll have her: she was mine, and
not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Re-
a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands!
hearse 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?
Speed. 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 saint Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews 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 nothing is impossible,

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee, stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. For me?

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Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man, than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,-Blessing of long, that going will scarce serve the turn.

your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, She can sew.

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

Speed. Item, She can knit.

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a secrets! - I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. wench, when she can knit him a stock? Speed. Item, She can wash and scour.

Laun. A special virtue! for then she need not be washed and scoured.

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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.



- The same. A room in the Duke's

Enter DUKE and THURIO; PROTEUS behind.
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.

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.
How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?

Pro. Gone, my good lord.

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

Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not

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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,

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love How she opposes her against my will.


Speed. Item, She is curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor.
Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will
not, I will; for good things should be praised.
Speed. Item, She is too liberal.

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ
down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not;
that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may;
and that I cannot help. Well, proceed!
Speed, Item, She hath more hair, than wit, and more
faults, than hairs, and more wealth, than faults.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duke. Ay, and perversely she persévers 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 hate.
Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.
Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.
Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do:

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'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially, against his very friend.

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Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; him,

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: ifI can do it,
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 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 y
t 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 poets' 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 concert! To their instruments
Tane 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 practice.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently,

To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in musick!
I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,

To give the onset to thy good advice.

Duke. About it, gentlemen!

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings.
Duke. Even now about it! I will pardon you. [Exeunt.

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For he's a proper man.

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am, cross'd with adversity:

My riches are these poor habiliments,

Of which if you should here disfurnish me,

You take the sum and substance that I have.
2 Out. Whither travel you?

Val. To Verona.

1 Out. Whence came you?
Val. From Milan.

3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there?

Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have staid,

If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

10ut. What, were you banish'd thence?
Val. I was.

2 Out. For what offence?

Val. For that, which now torments me to rehearse:
Ikill'da man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.

1 Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so!
But were you banish'd for so small a fault?
Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
1 Out. Have you the tongues?

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 any thing 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, Istabb'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?
3Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say, ay, and be the captain of us all!
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee, as our commander, and our king.

1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have of-

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you;
Provided, that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers.

3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And shew thee all the treasure, we have got,
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.



SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the palace.


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

Enter THURIO, and Musicians.

Thu. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept before us?
Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love
Will creep in service, where it cannot go.

Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that you love not here.
Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
Thu. Whom? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia, for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while!

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
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 re-
sort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he loved her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Jul. Peace! stand aside! the company parts.
Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you! I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?
Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell!

[Exeunt Thurio and Musicians.
SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship!
Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen:
Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will?

Pro. That I may compass yours.

Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this, —
That presently you hie you home to bed.

Enter Host, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes.
Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're ally-Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
cholly; I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.
Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you
shall hear musick, and see the gentleman,
where you
that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall,
Jul. That will be musick.
Host. Hark! hark!

Jul. Is he among these?
Host. Ay; but peace,

let's hear 'em!

Who is Silvia? what is she,

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 far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,

[Musick plays. And by and by intend to chide myself,

That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heavens such grace did lend her,
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

How do you, man? the musick 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?

Even for this time, I spend in talking to thee.
Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

Jul. 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried.


Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,

I am betroth'd. And art thou not asham'd

To wrong him with thy importúnacy?

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 her's thence;
Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine!
Jul. He heard not that.

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdúrate,
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:
be-For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;


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But, since your falsehood shall become you well

Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,

Host. You have a quick ear.

Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
And so, good rest!

Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow Pro. As wretches have o'ernight,


Host. I perceive, you delight not in musick.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above. Jul. Host, will you go?

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31 when a cur cannot keep himself in all compauies! I would have, as one should say, one, that takes upon him

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ?
Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me I think, 'tis al- to

most day.

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

SCENE III. The same.


Egl. This is the hour, that madam Silvia Entreated me to call, and know her mind; There's some great matter, she'd employ me in. Madam, madam!

SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Sil. Who calls?

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,
Jam 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 accomplished.
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 lov'd; 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,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagnes.
Ido desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows, as the sea of sands,

To bear me company, and go with me:
Ifnot, to hide, what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;

Which, since I know, they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you;

Recking as little, what betideth me,

As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?

Sil. This evening coming.

Egl. Where shall I meet you?

Sil. At friar Patrick's cell,

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be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me, that he did, I think verily, he had been hanged for't; sure as I live, he had suffered for't: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemen-like dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog! says one; What cur is that? says another; Whip him out! says the third; Hang him up! 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 he. You do him the more wrong, quoth I; 'twas I did the thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat on the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't: thou think'st not of this now!-Nay, I remember the trick, you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick?


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

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thon offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, sir, the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the marketplace: 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 my 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.

Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt;

But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)

[Exeunt. Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth;
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia!

SCENE IV. The same. Enter LAUNCE, with his dog. 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! I have taught him-even as one would say precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; and I cane no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing,

She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.
Jul. It seems, you loved her not, to leave her token:
She's dead, belike.

Pro. Not so; I think, she lives.
Jul. Alas!

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 loved you as well,

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