Regard thy danger, and along with me.

VALENTINE

I pray thee, Lance, an if thou seest my boy

Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North Gate.

PROTEUS

Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

VALENTINE

O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine.

Exeunt Proteus and Valentine

LANCE 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 knave. 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 milkmaid; 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.

He takes out a paper

Here is the catalogue 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 is she better than a jade. ‘Item, she can milk.’ Look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

Enter Speed

SPEED How now, Signor Lance, what news with your mastership?

LANCE With my master’s ship? Why, it is at sea.

SPEED Well, your old vice still, mistake the word. What news then in your paper?

LANCE The blackest news that ever thou heard’st.

SPEED Why, man, how ‘black’?

LANCE Why, as black as ink.

SPEED Let me read them.

LANCE Fie on thee, jolt-head, thou canst not read.

SPEED Thou liest. I can.

LANCE I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?

SPEED Marry, the son of my grandfather.

LANCE 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.

LANCE (giving Speed the paper) There: and Saint Nicholas be thy speed.

SPEED ‘Imprimis, she can milk.’

LANCE Ay, that she can.

SPEED ‘Item, she brews good ale.’

LANCE And thereof comes the proverb ‘Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale’.

SPEED ‘Item, she can sew.’

LANCE That’s as much as to say ‘Can she so?’

SPEED ‘Item, she can knit.’

LANCE 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.’

LANCE A special virtue, for then she need not be washed and scoured.

SPEED ‘Item, she can spin.’

LANCE Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.

SPEED ‘Item, she hath many nameless virtues.’

LANCE That’s as much as to say ‘bastard virtues’, that indeed know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

SPEED Here follows her vices.

LANCE Close at the heels of her virtues.

SPEED ‘Item, she is not to be broken with fasting, in respect of her breath.’

LANCE Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.

SPEED ‘Item, she hath a sweet mouth.’

LANCE That makes amends for her sour breath.

SPEED ‘Item, she doth talk in her sleep.’

LANCE It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

SPEED ‘Item, she is slow in words.’

LANCE O villain, that set this 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.’

LANCE Out with that, too. It was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her.

SPEED ‘Item, she hath no teeth.’

LANCE I care not for that, neither, because I love crusts.

SPEED ‘Item, she is curst.’

LANCE Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

SPEED ‘Item, she will often praise her liquor.’

LANCE 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.’

LANCE Of her tongue she cannot, for that’s writ down she is 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 hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.’

LANCE Stop there. I’ll have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. 347

SPEED ‘Item, she hath more hair than wit’—

LANCE ‘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’—

LANCE That’s monstrous. O that that were out!

SPEED ‘And more wealth than faults.’

LANCE 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?

LANCE Why then will I tell thee that thy master stays for thee at the North Gate.

SPEED For me?

LANCE For thee? Ay, who art thou? He hath stayed for a better man than thee.

SPEED And must I go to him?

LANCE Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn.

SPEED Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters! Exit

LANCE Now will he be swinged for reading my letter. An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I’ll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction.

Exit

3.2 Enter the Duke and Thurio

DUKE

Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you

Now Valentine is banished from her sight.

THURIO

Since his exile she hath despised me most,

Forsworn my company, and railed at me,

That I am desperate of obtaining her.

DUKE

This weak impress of love is as a figure

Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat

Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.

A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,

And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.

Enter Proteus

How now, Sir Proteus, is your countryman,

According to our proclamation, gone?

PROTEUS Gone, my good lord.

DUKE

My daughter takes his going grievously?

PROTEUS

A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.

DUKE

So I believe, but Thurio thinks not so.

Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee—

For thou hast shown some sign of good desert—

Makes me the better to confer with thee.

PROTEUS

Longer than I prove loyal to your grace

Let me not live to look upon your grace.

DUKE

Thou know’st how willingly I would effect

The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter?

PROTEUS I do, my lord.

DUKE

And also, I think, thou art not ignorant

How she opposes her against my will?

PROTEUS

She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

DUKE

Ay, and perversely she persevers so.

What might we do to make the girl forget

The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio?

PROTEUS

The best way is to slander Valentine