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 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 awfult 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 moodi, 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:

• Languages. + Lawful. Anger, resentment.

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

sórt?

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

offer'd.

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 show thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Milan. Court of the palace.

Enter Proteus.

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*,

* Passionate reproaches.

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.

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

Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy's clothes.

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?

[Music plays.

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 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

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.

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*.

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.

* Beyond all reckoning.

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 music, 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.
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 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.

Jul.

'Twere false, if I should speak it;

For, I am sure, she is not buried.

[Aside.

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.

G2