Launce.

When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him—even as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher^{1 note}, and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself^{2 note} in all companies! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog^{3 note} indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs^{4 note}, under the duke's table: he had not

been there (bless the mark) a pissing while^{5 note}, but all the chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one; What cur is that? says another; Whip him out, says the third; Hang him up, says the duke: I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs^{6 note}

Pro.
Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again.
Or ne'er return again into my sight.

Away, I say; Stayest thou to vex me here?
A slave, that still an end^{1 note}

Jul.
It seems, you lov'd not her, to leave her token:

She's dead, belike^{4 note}.

Pro.
Not so; I think, she lives.

Jul.
Alas!

Pro.
Why dost thou cry, alas?

Jul.
I cannot choose but pity her?

Pro.
Wherefore should'st thou pity her?

Jul.
Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love;
You dote on her, that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity, love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

Pro.
Well: give her that ring, and therewithal
This letter;—that's her chamber.—Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. [Exit Proteus.

Jul.
How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will:
And now am I (unhappy messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtain;
To carry that, which I would have refus'd^{5 note};
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true confirmed love;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. Enter Silvia, attended.
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.

Sil.
What would you with her, if that I be she?

Jul.
If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

Sil.
From whom?

Jul.
From my master, sir Proteus, madam.

Sil.
O,—he sends you for a picture?

Jul.
Ay, madam.

Sil.
Ursula, bring my picture there. [Picture brought.
Go, give your master this: tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow.

Jul.
Madam, please you peruse this letter.—
Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil.
I pray thee, let me look on that again.

Jul.
It may not be; good madam, pardon me.

Sil.
There, hold.
I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know, they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break,
As easily as I do tear his paper.

Jul.
Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.

Sil.
The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul.
She thanks you.

Sil.
What say'st thou?

Jul.
I thank you, madam, that you tender her:
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.

Sil.
Dost thou know her?

Jul.
Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept an hundred several times.

Sil.
Belike, she thinks, that Proteus hath forsook her.

Jul.
I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.

Sil.
Is she not passing fair?

Jul.
She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgement, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I^{6 note}

Sil.
How tall was she?

Jul.
About my stature: for, at pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown;
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgement,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore, I know she is about my height.
And, at that time I made her weep a-good^{7 note}

Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight^{8 note}

Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

Sil.
She is beholding to thee, gentle youth!—
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!—
I weep myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.
Farewell. [Exit Silvia.

Jul.
And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.—
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
I hope, my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much^{9 note}.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture: Let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow^{1 note}:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig^{2 note}

Her eyes are grey as glass^{3 note}

But I can make respective^{5 note} in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd and ador'd;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead^{6 note}

I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,

I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes^{7 note}
,
To make my master out of love with thee. [Exit.

Previous section