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is never undone till he be hanged; nor never
welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid,

and the hostess say · Welcome!'
Speed. Come on, you madcap, I'll to the alehouse with

you presently; where, for one shot of five pence,
thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But,
sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam Ιο

Julia ?
Launce. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they

parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him?

Launce. No.
Speed. How, then ? shall he marry her?
Launce. No, neither.
Speed. What, are they broken?
Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish.
Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter with them?
Launce. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him,

it stands well with her.
Speed.' What an ass art thou! I understand thee not.
Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not.

My staff understands me.
Speed. What thou sayest ?
Launce. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but

lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.
Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. 30
Speed. But tell me true, will ’t be a match ?
Launce. Ask my dog : if he say ay, it will; if he say,

no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing,

it will. Speed. The conclusion is, then, that it will.



Lavace. They whalt never get such a secret from me

but by a parable.
Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how

sayest thou, that my master is become a notable

Launce. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?
Launce. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me.
Launce. Why fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy

master. Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn

himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, 50

and not worth the name of Christian. Speed. Why? Launce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee

as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou

go? Speed. At thy service.


The same. Sther Rauke' i palace.

Enter Proteus.
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;

To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn;
And even that


Provokes me to this threefold perjury;
Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear.

gave me first



Act II. Sc. vi. O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinna,

Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;
And he wants wit that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr’d
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do ;
But there I leave to love where I should love.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;

If I lose them, thus find I by their loss
For Valentine, myself, for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend,
For love is still most precious in itself ;
And Silvia-witness Heaven, that made her fair ! -
Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembering that my love to her is dead
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window;
Myself in counsel, his competitor.
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended fight;
Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine;


Act II. Sc. vii.

For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross
By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift!



Scene VII.

Verona. Julia's house.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

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Jul. Counsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me ;

And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engraved,
To lesson me and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, I may undertake

A journey to my loving Proteus.
Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long!
Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps ; 10
Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly,
And when the Aight is made to one so dear,

Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.
Luc. Better forbear till Proteus make return.
Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food ?

Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 20



Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,

But qualify the fire's extreme rage,

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.

The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamelld stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course :
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil

A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent

The loose encounters of lascivious men :
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds

As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings

With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.
To be fantastic may become a youth

Of greater time than I shall show to be.
Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches ?
Jul. That fits as well as, Tell me, good my lord, 50

What compass will you wear your farthingale ?'
Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta.

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