SCENE IV.
&wlquo;3 note
Laun.
&wlquo;I am but a fool, look you, and yet I
have the wit to think my master is a kind of a
knave: but that's all one, if he be but one kind.
He lives not now that knows me to be in love, yet
I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck
that from me, nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a
woman; but what woman I will not tell myself,
and yet 'tis a milk-maid; yet 'tis not a maid, for
she hath had gossips; yet 'tis a maid, for she
is her master's maid, and serves for wages: she
hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is
much in a bare christian. Here is the cat-log
[Pulling out a paper] of her conditions; Imprimis,
she can fetch and carry; why, a horse can do no
more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry;
therefore she is better than a jade. Item, she can
milk; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with
clean hands.&wrquo;
Enter Speed.
Speed.
How now, signior Launce? what news with
your mastership?
4 noteLaun.
With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.
-- 218 --
Speed.
Well, your old vice still; mistake the word:
what news then in your paper?
Laun.
The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.
Speed.
Why, man, how black?
Laun.
Why, as black as ink.
Speed.
Let me read them.
Laun.
Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou can'st not read.
Speed.
Thou lyest, I can.
Laun.
I will try thee; tell me this, who begot thee?
Speed.
Marry, the son of my grand-father.
Laun.
O illiterate loiterer, it was the son of thy
grand-mother; this proves, that thou canst not read.
Speed.
Come, fool, come, try me in thy paper.
Laun.
There, and 5 noteSt. Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed.
Imprimis, she can milk.
Laun.
Ay, that she can.
Speed.
Item, she brews good ale.
Laun.
And thereof comes the proverb, Blessing of
your heart, you brew good ale.
Speed.
Item, she can sowe.
Laun.
That's as much as to say, Can she so?
Speed.
Item, she can knit.
Laun.
What need a man care for a stock with a wench,
when she can knit him a stock!
Speed.
Item, she can wash and scour.
Laun.
A special virtue, for then she need not to be
wash'd and scour'd.
Speed.
Item, she can spin.
Laun.
Then may I set the world on wheels, when
she can spin for her living.
Speed.
Item, she hath many nameless virtues.
Laun.
That's as much as to say, Bastard Virtues;
that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have
no names.
-- 219 --
Speed.
Here follow her vices.
Laun.
Close at the heels of her virtues.
Speed.
Item, she is not to be kist fasting, in respect
of her breath.
Laun.
Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast:
read on.
Speed.
Item, she hath a sweet mouth.
Laun.
That makes amends for her sour breath.
Speed.
Item, she doth talk in her sleep.
Laun.
It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in
her talk.
Speed.
Item, she is slow in words.
Laun.
O villain! that set down among her vices!
to be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray
thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.
Speed.
Item, she is proud.
Laun.
Out with that too: it was Eve's legacy, and
cannot be ta'en from her.
Speed.
Item, she hath no teeth.
Laun.
I care not for that neither, because I love
crusts.
Speed.
Item, she is curst.
Laun.
Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
Speed.
Item. She will often praise her liquor.
Laun.
If her liquor be good, she shall; if she will
not, I will; for good things should be praised.
Speed.
Item, she is too liberal.
Laun.
Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ
down, she's slow of; of her purse she shall not, for
that I'll keep shut; now of another thing she may,
and that cannot I help. Well, proceed.
Speed.
Item, she hath more hairs than wit, and
more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.
&wlquo;Laun.
&wlquo;Stop here; I'll have her; she was mine,
and not mine, twice or thrice in that article. Rehearse
that once more.&wrquo;
Speed.
Item, she hath more hair than wit.
-- 220 --
Laun.
More hair than wit, it may be; I'll prove
it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore
it is more than the salt; the hair, that covers the wit,
is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less.
What's next?
Speed.
And more faults than hairs.
Laun.
That's monstrous: oh, that that were out!
Speed.
And more wealth than faults.
Laun.
Why, that word makes the faults gracious:
well, I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is
impossible—
Speed.
What then?
Laun.
Why then will I tell thee, that thy master
stays for thee at the north-gate.
Speed.
For me?
Laun.
For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid
for a better man than thee.
Speed.
And must I go to him?
Laun.
Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so
long, that going will scarce serve the turn.
Speed.
Why didst not tell me sooner? pox on your
love-letters!
Laun.
Now will he be swing'd for reading my
letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself
into secrets.—I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.
[Exeunt.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
