Sil. Perchance, you 'think too much of so much pains?
Val. No, madam: so it stead you, I will write,

(Please you command,) a 'thousand times as much.
And yet-

Sil. Reading. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel;
And yet I will not 'name 't;-and yet I care not ;-
And yet... take this again; and yet I thank you :
Meaning, henceforth, to trouble you no more.
Val. What 'means your ladyship? Do you not 'like it?
Sil.... Yes, yes; the lines are very 'quaintly writ,

But, since 'unwillingly, take them again.
Val. Madam, they are for 'you.

Smilingly gives

[back the letter.

Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my 'request;
But I will none of them. They are 'for 'you:
And so, good-morrow, servant.

"Forcing him to take the letter. Exit.

What does all this mean? The servant Speed understands it; for he says, while his master is watching his departing lady-loveSpeed. O jest, unseen, inscrutable, inviseeble,—

As a 'nose on a man's face, or a 'weathercock on a
steeple!

My master 'sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her 'pupil, to become her 'tutor.

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better?
That my master, being scribe," to 'himself should write
the letter?

Valentine returns from his osculatory salutations:

Val. How now, sir! What, are you reasoning" with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was 'rhyming: 't is 'you that have the reason. Do you not 'perceive the jest?

Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir: but did you perceive her 'earnesta?

Val. She gave me none,-except an angry word.

Speed. Why, she hath given you a 'letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ "To her friend."

Speed. And that letter hath she 'delivered, and there an end.R

Val. I would it were no 'worse!

...

Speed. I'll warrant you, 't is as 'well:

help (please). b the writer.

discoursing, arguing. "earnestness" and "a token of love."

d a double entendre for

and that ends it.

"For often have you writ to her; and she, in modest-y,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover,
Herself hath taught her love 'himself to write unto her lover."

All this I speak in 'print," for in print I 'found it.—
Why muse you, sir? 't is dinner-time.

Val. I have dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the chameleon Love can feed on the 'air, 'I am one that am nourished by my 'victuals, and would fain have 'meat. O, be not like your 'mistress; be 'moved," be moved!

And so the Master and the Man saunter homewards.

[Exeunt

When Julia hears that her lover must, in obedience to his father's commands, leave her, she no longer pretends to be insensible to his suit. He says to her:

Pro. Have 'patience, gentle Julia!
Jul. I 'must,-where is no 'remedy.

Pro. When possibly I can, I will 'return.

Jul. If you turn 'not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
Pro. Why, then we'll make exchange: here, take

Gives him a ring.

[GA you this.

[Gives her a ring.

Here is my 'hand for my true 'constancy;
And when that 'hour o'erslips me in the 'day,
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next 'ensuing hour some 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 should.
Julia, farewell.

Julia, unable to speak, rushes out in tears.
What gone without a word?

Ay, so true love 'should do: it 'cannot speak;

Exit Julia.

For truth hath 'better deeds, than 'words, to grace it.

Panthino, servant to old Signior Antonio, enters:

Pant. Sir Proteus, you are stayed for.

Pro.

Go; I come, I come.

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers 'dumb!

[Exeunt.

according to the book. b have compassion on me. e betrothal by exchange of rings.

d time for sailing.

The haste of Proteus the master does not expedite Launce his man, who lingers in the street; leading along his dog, an animal only esteemed-like many other favourites-for its shagginess, ugliness, and ill-nature.

a

He fastens his dog to'

He sits down and

Launce. Nay, 't will 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" son; and am going, with Sir Proteus, to the Imperial's Court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my 'mother weeping, my 'father wailing, my sister crying, our 'maid howling, our 'cat wringing her hands, and all our 'house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted 'cur shed one tear. He is 'stone, a very 'pebble-stone; and has no more pity in him than a 'dog: a 'Jew would have wept to have seen our parting: why, my grandam, having no 'eyes, look you, wept herself 'blind at my parting. a staple in the wall. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. [takes off his shoes.] 'This shoe is my 'father:-no, this 'left shoe is my father ;--no, no, this left shoe is my 'mother;-nay, that cannot be so, neither;-yes, it 'is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. 'This shoe is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on 't! there 't is. Now, sir, this staff is my 'sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is 'Nan, our maid: 'I am the dog ;-no, the dog is 'himself, and 'I am the dog,-O, the 'dog is 'me, and I am 'myself: ay, so, so. Now come I to my 'father; "Father, your blessing!" now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I 'kiss my father; the shoe kisses ] well, he weeps on. Now come I to my 'mother;-O, that she could speak now, like a wood woman!-well, I kiss her; [she] why, there 't is: here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; [the staff ] mark the moan 'she makes.... Now, the 'dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how 'I lay the dust with 'my tears.

embraces

Panthino enters:

kisses

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard: thy master is 'shipped, and thou art to post 'after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass! you'll 'lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

a kindred, family.

b prodigal.

wild, crazy (with grie

the

Launce. It is no matter if the tied [Pointing to] 'were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.",

Pant. 'What's the unkindest tide?

Launce. Why, he that 's tied 'here,-Crab, my dog.
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou 'lt lose the 'flood; and, in
losing the flood, lose thy 'voyage; and, in losing thy
voyage, lose thy 'master; and, in losing thy master,
lose thy 'service; and, in losing thy service,... Why
dost thou stop my mouth?

Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy 'tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?

Unties

Launce. In thy tale. [ates the] Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied? 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 sighs.

Pant. Come, come, away, man: I was sent to call thee. Wilt thou go?

Launce. Well, I 'will go.

[Exeunt

And now, Proteus, attended by his servant Launce, proceeds to Milan, that he may visit his friend Valentine at the ducal Court.

But the fair Silvia had another suitor-a Knight named Sir Thurio, the chosen of her father: for the Duke was ignorant of his daughter's affection for Valentine. And one day, while the rival suitors are conversing with Silvia, and when the accomplished Valentine is turning into ridicule the dull compliments of his stolid competitor, the Duke comes to tell Valentine of the receipt of a letter concerning his often-mentioned friend Proteus.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are 'hard beset."

Val.

Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a 'letter from your friends,
Of 'much good news?

My lord, I will be thankful
To 'any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?
Val. Ay, my good lord; I know the gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation.

Duke. Hath he not a 'son?

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well 'deserves
The honour and regard of such a 'father.

Duke. You know him 'well?

quibbles on "tide" and "tied." b closely besieged (by your rival lovers).

Val. I knew him as 'myself; for from our infancy

We have conversed, and spent our hours together:
And, though 'myself have been an idle truant,
Yet hath Sir Proteus, (for that's his name,)
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his 'experience old;
His head unmellowed, but his 'judgment ripe:
He is complete, in 'feature and in 'mind,
With 'all good grace to grace a 'gentleman.
Duke. Well, sir, this gentleman is come to 'me,
With commendation from great potentates:
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think, 't is no 'un-welcome news to you?
Val. Should I have 'wished a thing, it had been he!
Duke. Welcome him then, according to his worth.

Silvia, I speak to 'you; and 'you, Sir Thurio:-
For 'Valentine, I need not cite 'him to it.-
I'll send him hither to you presently.

[Exit.

Valentine, happy at the arrival of his dearest friend, explains to the Lady Silvia:

Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship,

'Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes locked in 'her crystal looks.
Sil. Belike, that now she hath 'enfranchised them,
Upon some 'other pawn for fealty."

Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners 'still.
Sil. Nay, then, he should be 'blind; and, 'being blind,
How could he 'see his way to seek out 'you?
Val. Why, lady, Love hath 'twenty pair of eyes.

Sir Thurio bluntly interposes:

Thu. They say, that Love hath not an eye at 'all.
Val.... To see 'such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:

Upon a 'homely object Love can 'wink.

While they speak, Proteus enters, and is warmly welcomed by the beautiful Lady Silvia, by the bovine Sir Thurio, and last, not least, by the delighted Valentine. When the "Two Gentlemen " are alone, Valentine says:

Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Pro. Your friends are well, and have you much commended.

outward appearance.

burge (summon).

d pledge for dutiful fidelity.

e would have. e O. R. and haue the much.