LAUNCE. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never undone till he be hang'd, 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 Julia?

LAUNCE. Marry, after they clos'd 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 a.s.s art thou! I understand thee not.

LAUNCE. What a block art thou that thou canst not! My staff understands me.

SPEED. What thou say'st?

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.

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.

LAUNCE. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable.

SPEED. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'st thou that my master is become a notable lover?

LAUNCE. I never knew him otherwise.

SPEED. Than how?

LAUNCE. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.

SPEED. Why, thou wh.o.r.eson a.s.s, thou mistak'st 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, and not worth the name of a 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. Exeunt

SCENE VI.

Milan. The DUKE's palace

Enter PROTEUS

PROTEUS. 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 ev'n that pow'r which gave me first my oath Provokes me to this threefold perjury: Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear.

O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinn'd, Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it!

At first I did adore a twinkling star, But now I wors.h.i.+p a celestial sun.

Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; And he wants wit that wants resolved will To learn his wit t' 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, Rememb'ring 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 us'd to Valentine.

This night he meaneth with a corded ladder To climb celestial Silvia's chamber window, Myself in counsel, his compet.i.tor.

Now presently I'll give her father notice Of their disguising and pretended flight, Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine, 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. Exit

SCENE VII.

Verona. JULIA'S house

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA

JULIA. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, a.s.sist me; And, ev'n in kind love, I do conjure thee, Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, To lesson me and tell me some good mean How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus.

LUCETTA. Alas, the way is wearisome and long!

JULIA. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

LUCETTA. Better forbear till Proteus make return.

JULIA. 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.

LUCETTA. 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.

JULIA. The more thou dam'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 th' enamell'd 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.

LUCETTA. But in what habit will you go along?

JULIA. 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.

LUCETTA. Why then, your ladys.h.i.+p must cut your hair.

JULIA. 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.

LUCETTA. What fas.h.i.+on, madam, shall I make your breeches?

JULIA. That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord, What compa.s.s will you wear your farthingale.'

Why ev'n what fas.h.i.+on thou best likes, Lucetta.

LUCETTA. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

JULIA. Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favour'd.

LUCETTA. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.

JULIA. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.

But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey?

I fear me it will make me scandaliz'd.

LUCETTA. If you think so, then stay at home and go not.

JULIA. Nay, that I will not.

LUCETTA. Then never dream on infamy, but go.

If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone.

I fear me he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

JULIA. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of love, Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

LUCETTA. All these are servants to deceitful men.

JULIA. Base men that use them to so base effect!

But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth; His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

LUCETTA. Pray heav'n he prove so when you come to him.