Are you content to be our General?

To make a virtue of neceffity,

And live, as we do, in the wilderness ?

3 Out. What fay'st thou

confort?

wilt thou be of our

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.

ki

1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesie, thou dy'st. 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 filly women, or poor paffengers.

3 Out. No, we deteft fuch vile bafe practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews. And fhew thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, fhall reft at thy difpofe.

[Exeunt.

Changes to an open Place, under Silvia's Apartment, in Milan.

Enter Protheus.

Pro. A Lready I've been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio,

Under the colour of commending him,
I have accefs my own love to prefer:
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlefs gifts.
When I proteft true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falfhood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forfworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I-lov'd.

'And,

And, notwithstanding all her fudden quips,
The leaft whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, fpaniel-like, the more fhe fpurns my love,
The more it grows, and fawneth on her ftill.

But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening mufick to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Muficians.

Thu. How now, Sir Protheus, are you crept before us?

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that love Will creep in fervice where it cannot go.

Thu. Ay, but I hope, Sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do; or elfe I would be hence. Thu. Whom, Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia, for your fake.

Thu. I thank you, for your own: now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it luftily a while.

Enter Hoft, and Julia in boy's cloaths.

Hoft. Now, my young gueft, methinks, you're allycholly: I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine hoft, because I cannot be merry. Hoft. Come, we'll have you merry; I'll bring you where you fhall hear mufick, and fee the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But fhall I hear him fpeak?
Hoft. Ay, that you fhall.

Jul. That will be mufick.

Hoft. Hark, hark!

Jul. Is he among these?

Hoft. Ay; but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? what is fhe,

That all our fwains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wife is fhe;

The heav'n fuch grace did lend her,
That he might admired be.

Is fhe kind, as he is fair??
For beauty lives with kindnessay
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness:
And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us fing,

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

T

Hoft. How now? are you fadder than you were before? how do you, man? the mufick likes you not. Jul. You miftake; the musician likes me not. Hoft. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays falfe, father,

Hoft. How, out of tune on the ftrings?

Jul. Not fo; but yet fo falfe, that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Hoft. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a flow heart.

Hoft. I perceive, you delight not in mufick.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars fo. Da

Hoft. Hark, what fine change is in the mufick.
Jul. Ay; that change is the fpight.

Hoft You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing.

But,

But, hoft, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talk on,
Often refort unto this gentlewoman?

Hoft. I tell you what Launce, his

lov'd her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce?

man, told me, he

Hoft. Gone to feek his dog, which to-morrow, by his master's command, he muft carry for a prefent to his lady.

Jul. Peace, ftand afide, the company parts.

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will fo plead, That you fhall fay, my cunning drift excels. Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At St. Gregory's well.

Thu. Farewel.

[Exeunt Thurio and Mufick.

Silvia above, at her window.

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil-1-thank you for your mufick, 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 Protheus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Protheus, gentle lady, and your fervant.
Sil. What is your will?

Pro. That I may compafs yours.

Sil. You have your with, my will is even this,

That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou fubtle, perjur'd, falfe, difloyal man?
Think'ft thou, I am fo fhallow, fo conceitlefs,
To be feduced by thy flattery,

That haft deceiv'd fo many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.

I lov'd her out of all nick.] i. e. out of all count: that is, extravagantly. A phrafe taken from accounts when calculations were made by nicking on numbers upon a stick,

For me, by this pale queen of night, Ifwear,
I am fo far from granting thy requeft,"
That I defpife thee for thy wrongful fuit;
And, by and by, intend to chide myself,
Ev'n for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro. I grant, fweet love, that I did love a lady; But he is dead.

Jul. [afide] 'Twere falfe, if I should speak it; For, I am fure, fhe is not buried.

Sil, Say, that the be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Survives; to whom, thyfelf art witness,

I am betroath'd; and art thou not afham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

Pro. I likewife hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil. And fo, fuppofe, am I; for in his grave,
Affure thyfelf, my love is buried.

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Sil. Go to thy lady's grave and call her thence, Or, at the leaft, in hers fepulchre thinë.

Jul. [afide] He heard not that.

Pro. Madam, if that your heart be so obdurate, Vouchfafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber: To that I'll fpeak, to that I'll figh and weep: For fince the fubftance of your perfect felf Is elfe devoted, I am but a fhadow; And to your shadow will I make true love.

Jul. [afide] If 'twere a fubftance, you would, fure, deceive it,

And make it but a fhadow, as I am.

Sil. I'm very loath to be your idol, Sir; But fince your falfhood fhall become you well To worship fhadows, and adore falfe fhapes; Send to me in the morning, and I'll fend it: And fo, good rest.

Pro. As wretches have o'er night, That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Protheus and Silvia,

Jul.