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? Duke. Then let me fee thy cloak; Val. Why, any cloak will ferve the turn, my Lord. Duke. How fhall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. 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 harbour with my Silvia nightly, "And flaves they are to me, that fend them flying: "Oh, could their mafter come and go as lightly. "Himself would lodge, where fenfelefs they are lying: My herald thoughts in thy pure bofom reft them, "While I, their King, that thither them importune, "Do curfe the grace, that with fuch grace hath bleft them, "Because myfelf do want my fervant's fortune: "I curfe myfelf, for they are fent by me; "That they fhould harbour, where their Lord should be." Wilt thou reach ftars, because they shine on thee? Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Longer than fwifteft expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal Court, Be Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe, But as thou lov't thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit. And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her, Enter Protheus and Launce. Pro. Run, boy, rur, run, and feek 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 'tis a Valentine. Pro. Valentine, Val. No. Pro. Who then; his fpirit? Val. Neither. Pro. What then? Val. Nothing. Laun. Can nothing speak mafter, fhall I ftrike? Laun. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Laun. Why, Sir, I'll ftrike nothing; I pray you, Fal Val. My ears are ftopt, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath poffeft them. Pro. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine; Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia ! Hath fhe forfworn me? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forfworn me! What is your news? Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd. And now excess of it will make me furfeit. Pro. Ay, ay; and fhe hath offered to the doom, A fea of melting pearl, which fome call tears: Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,, But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou speak'ft, Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canst not help, Befides, Befides, thy ftaying will abridge thy life. Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou feeft my Exeunt Val. and Pro. 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; but a team of horse shall 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 fhe hath had goffips; yet 'tis a maid, for fhe is her mafter's maid and ferves for wages; fhe 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, fhe can fetch and carry; why, a horse can do no more; nay, a horfe cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is the 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 master's fhip? why, it is at fea. (12) Speed. (12) With my mastership? why, it is at fea.] Thefe poetical Editors are pleasant Gentlemen to let this pafs without any fufpicion. For Speed. Well, your old vice ftill; mistake the word; What news then in your paper? Laun. The blackeft news that ever thou heard'ft. Laun. Why, as black as ink. Laun. Fy on thee, jolt-head, thou can'ft not read. Laun. I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee? Laun. O illiterate loiterer, it was the fon of thy Laun. Ay, that she can. Speed. Item, the brews good ale. Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, Bleffing of your brew good ate. heart, you Speed. Item, the can fowe. Laun. That's as much as to fay, can be fo? Speed. Item, fhe can knit. Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock ! Speed. Item, fhe can wash and scour. Laun. A fpecial virtue, for then fhe need not to be wafh'd and fcour'd. Speed. Item, fhe can spin. Laun. Then may I fet the world on wheels, when fhe can fpin for her living. Speed. Item, he hath many nameless virtues. Laun. That's as much as to fay, baftard virtues: that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. For how does Launce mistake the word? Speed asks him about his maftership, and he replies to it litteratim. But then how was his maftership at fea, and on fhore too? The addition of a letter and a note of Apoftrophe make Launce both mistake the word, and fets the pun right: It reftores, indeed, but a mean joke; but, without it, there is no fenfe in the paffage. Befides, it is in character with the reft of the scene; and I dare be confident, the Poet's own conceit. Speed: |