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A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply, when they have judg'd me fast asleep, And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid Sir Valentine her company, and my court; But, fearing lest my jealous baim might err, And so unworthily disgrace the man, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd) I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend, And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently, Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly, That my discovery be not aimed at; For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretence. Duke. Upon mine honor, he shall never know That I had any flight from thee of this. Pro. Adieu, my lord: sir Valentine is coming.

Enter VALENTINE, 1in his cloak.

[Exit.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.

Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court.

Duke. Nay, then no matter: stay with me awhile. I am to break with thee of some affairs That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter.

Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match Were rich and honorable: besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, trust me: she is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Neither regarding that she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father: And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers Upon advice hath drawn my love from her; And, where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, I now am full resolv'd to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in: Then, let her beauty be her wedding-dower; For me and my possessions she esteems not.

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Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady in Milano here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence: Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court; Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd)

Untimely.- Conjecture; guess. Tempted. Guessed, Design; scheme. Knowledge.- Reflection; deliberate consideration. Whereas. Love.

How, and which way, I may bestow myself, To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words. Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. Val. A woman sometime scorns what best contents Send her another; never give her o'er, [her. For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you: If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone, For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For "get you gone," she doth not mean, Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; 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.

away."

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.

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 that. Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for everything 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.-[via?"

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What letter is this same? What's here ?-"To Sil-
And here an engine fit for my proceeding!
3[Ladder and letter fall out.
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads.
My thoughts do harbor with my Silvia nightly;
And slaves they are to me, that send them flying:
O! could their master come and go as lightly,

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Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. 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
Because myself do want my servants' fortune. [them,
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbor where their lord should be."
What's here?

"Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:"
'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.-
Why, Phaeton, (for thou art " Merops' son)

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* Hinders.-Ingeniously. Instrument.-" "Thou art Merops' son," i. e., "Thou art Phaeton in thy rashness, but without his pretensions; thou art a low-born wretch, the issue of Merops, and not the son of a divinity."

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, base intruder; over-weening slave:
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 favors
Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee:
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition

[ment?

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.
Begone: I will not hear thy vain excuse;
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit DUKE.
Val. And why not death, rather than living tor-
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
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to bfly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out.
Launce. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his spirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
(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 chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of 'biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word that thou
speak'st
Have some malignant power upon my life:
If pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolor.

80,

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study help for that which thou lamentest.
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, an 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. 'Launce. 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; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from

Launce. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? me, nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman: but
Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike?
Launce. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,
Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear.-Friend Valentine, a
word.
[news,
Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good
So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead?

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what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had Egossips: yet 'tis 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 cat-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. Enter SPEED.

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

Launce. 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?

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

Recall.-d Grief- Women anciently had a pocket in the fore part of their stays, in which they carried not only love letters and love-tokens, but even their money.-f" But one knave," i, e., not a double knave.-" Gossips," tattling women who attend accouchements.

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Launce. I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Launce. 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. Launce. There, and saint a Nicholas be thy speed! Speed. Imprimis, "She can milk.”

Launce. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item," She brews good ale."

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,"Launce. That's monstrous: O, that that were out! Speed. -"And more wealth than faults." Launce. 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?

Launce. Why, then will I tell thee,-that thy master stays for thee at the north-gate. Speed. For me?

Launce. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath

Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,-Bless-stay'd for a better man than thee.

ing of your heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. Item, "She can sew."

Launce. That's as much as to say, Can she so? Speed. Item, "She can knit."

Launce. What need a man care for a stock with

Speed. And must I go to him?

Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-letters. [Exit, running. a wench, when she can knit him a stock? Launce. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Speed. Item, "She can wash and scour." letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not into secrets.-I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correcbe wash'd and scour'd.

Speed. Item, "She can spin."

Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels,

when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item," She hath many nameless virtues." Launce. 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.

Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues.

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

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

Speed. Item, "She hath a sweet mouth." Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. Item, "She doth talk in her sleep." Launce. It's no matter for that, so she slip not in her talk.

Speed. Item, "She is slow in words."

Launce. O villain! that set this down among her vices? To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, "She is proud."

tion.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-The Same. An Apartment in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO. 3

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. [you, 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 e Trench'd 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.

Enter PROTEUS.

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. Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee,

Launce. Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, (For thou hast shown sure sign of good desert) and cannot be ta'en from her.

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Launce. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to Speed. Item," She will often praise her liquor." Launce. 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."

Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not, for that I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item," She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults." Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more.

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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.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. 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 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:

e Graceful.d Whipped. -Carved." With circumastance," i. e., with incidental particulars.

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My riches are these poor habiliments,

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, A man I am cross'd with adversity: 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.

[c kind,

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this
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,
2 When 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 3 strict integrity:

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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 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 practice.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently,

To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.
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.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-A Forest, between Milan and Verona.

Enter certain Outlaws.

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.

True.-b" Bottom" is a housewife's term for the central substance upon which a ball of thread is wound.- Manner; way.-d Birdlime. Filled.- Band of musicians.- Mourn ful elegy. Win.- Choose out,-"I will pardon you," | 1. e., I will excuse your attendance.

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? [stay'd, Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

2 Out. What! were you banish'd thence? Val. I was.

2 Out. For what offence?

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, 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 had been often 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.

4[They talk apart.

Speed. Master, be one of them:

It is an honorable 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 Pawful men: Myself was from Verona banish'd, For practising to steal away a lady, An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Who, in my amood, 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 beautify'd With goodly shape; and by your own report A linguist, and a man of such perfection, As we do in our quality much want

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2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you.

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Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

Under the color 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 music 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.

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.

Jul. 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. [Music plays again.
Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music.
Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would not 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 lov'd 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 you not: I will so plead,
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Fareweli. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.
Enter SILVIA above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.
Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure

heart's truth,

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter Host and JULIA (in boy's clothes), behind. Host. Now, my young guest; methinks you're allycholly: 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 where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall.
Jul. That will be music.

Host. Hark! Hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

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.
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?
[Music plays. 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,
And by and by intend to chide myself,
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.

Host. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise as free;

The heaven 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,

Jul. [Aside.] '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 importunacy?

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 ;

"Out of all nick," i. e., beyond all reckoning, or count, Disposal.—“Sudden quips," i. e., hasty, passionate re- Reckonings were kept by hosts upon nicked or notched sticks or tallics.

proaches.

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