Pro. She fays, it is a fair one.

Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is black. Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old faying is, "Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes." 1ful. 'Tis true, fuch pearls as put out ladies' eyes: For I had rather wink, than look on them. [Afide. Thu. How likes fhe my difcourfe?

Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.

Thu. But well, when I difcourfe of love and peace? Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.

Thu. What fays fhe to my valour?

Pro. Oh, Sir, fhe makes no doubt of that.

[Afide.

Ful. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.

[Afide.

Thu. What fays fhe to my birth?

Pro. That you are well deriv'd.

Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool.

[Afide.

Thu. Confiders fhe my poffeffions?

Pro. O, ay; and pities them.

Thu. Wherefore?

Jul. That fuch an afs fhould own them.

[Afide.

Pro. That they are out by leafe.

Jul. Here comes the duke.

Enter Duke.

Duke. How now, Sir Protheus? how now, Thurio?

Which of you faw Sir Eglamour of late?

Thu. Not I.

Pro. Nor I.

Duke. Saw you my daughter?

Pro. Neither.

Duke. Why then

She's fled unto that peasant Valentine;

Jul. 'Tis true, &c.] This fpeech, which certainly belongs. to Julia, is given, in the old copy, to Thurio. Mr. Rowe restored it to its proper owner. STEEVENS. M 3

And

And Eglamour is in her company.

Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the foreft;
Him he knew well, and guefs'd that it was she;
But, being mafk'd, he was not fure of it:
Befides, fhe did intend confeffion

At Patrick's cell this even, and there fhe was not;
Thefe likelihoods confirm her flight from hence,
Therefore, I pray you, ftand not to discourse,
But mount you prefently; and meet with me
Upon the rifing of the mountain-foot
That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled.
Difpatch, fweet gentlemen, and follow me,

[Exit Duke.
Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
That flies her fortune when it follows her:
I'll after; more to be reveng'd of Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless Silvia.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.

ful. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exeunt,

Out. Come, come, be patient; we must bring you to our captain.

Sil. A thousand more mifchances, than this one, Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 2 Out. Come, bring her away.

1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us; But Moyfes and Valerius follow him.

Go thou with her to the weft end of the wood,

There

There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled.
The thicket is befet, he cannot 'fcape.

1 Out. Come, I'll bring you to our captain's cave: Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,

And will not ufe a woman lawlessly.

Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! [Exeunt.

Val. How ufe doth breed a habit in a man!
This fhadowy defart, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I fit alone, unfeen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my diftreffes, and record my woes.
9 O thou, that doft inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the manfion fo long tenantlefs;
Left, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy prefence, Sylvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn fwain.
-What hallowing, and what stir, is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have fome unhappy paffenger in chace.

They love me well; yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.

Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here?

• thou, that doft inhabit in my breast, Leave not the manfion fo long tenantlefs; Left, growing ruinous, the building fall,

[Val. fteps afide.

And leave no memory of what it was !] It is hardly poffible to point out four lines in any of the plays of Shakespeare, more remarkable for eafe and elegance, than thefe. STEEVENS,

Enter Protheus, Silvia, and Julia.

Pro. Madam, this fervice have I done for you. (Though you refpect not aught your fervant doth) To hazard life, and rescue you from him,

That wou'd have forc'd your honour and your love.
Vouchfafe me for my meed but one fair look:
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am fure, you cannot give.
Val. How like a dream is this, I fee, and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while.

[Afide.

Sil. O miferable, unhappy that I am! Pro. Unhappy were you, Madam, ere I came; But by my coming I have made you happy. Sil. By thy approach thou mak'ft me most unhappy. ful. And me, when he approacheth to your presence. [Afide.

Sil. Had I been feized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Protheus refcue me.
Oh, heaven be judge, how I love Valentine,
Whofe life's as tender to me as my foul;
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I do deteft falfe perjur'd Protheus:
Therefore be gone, folicit me no more.

Pro. What dangerous action, ftood it next to death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look?
Oh, 'tis the curfe in love, and still approv❜d,
When women cannot love, where they're belov'd.
Sil. When Protheus cannot love, where he's belov'd.
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
For whofe dear fake thou then didst rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths; and all thofe oaths
Defcended into perjury, to love me.

Thou haft no faith left now, unless thou had'ft two, And that's far worse than none: better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one: Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!

Pro.

Pro. In love,

Who refpects friend?

Sil. All men but Protheus.

Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form; I'll woo you like a foldier, at arms end;

And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you. Sil. Oh heaven!

Pro. I'll force thee yield to my defire.

Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion!

Pro. Valentine!

Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love;

(For fuch is a friend now) treacherous man!
Thou haft beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye.
Could have perfuaded me. Now I dare not say,
I have one friend alive; thou would'ft difprove me.
Who fhould be trufted, when one's own right hand
Is perjur'd to the bofom? Protheus,

I am forry, I must never truft thee more,

But count the world a stranger for thy fake.
The private wound is deepest.

curft!

Oh time, most

'Mong'ft all foes, that a friend fhould be the worst! Pro. My fhame, and guilt, confounds me : Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty forrow

Be a fufficient ransom for offence,

I tender it here; I do as truly fuffer,

As e'er I did commit.

Val. Then I am paid:

And once again I do receive thee honeft.

Who by repentance is not fatisfied,

Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd;

1 The private wound, &c.] I have a little mended the mea fure. The old edition, and all but Sir T. Hanmer, read, The private wound is deepest, oh time most accurst.

JOHNSON.
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