“Item, She is too liberal.”
Launce. 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.”
Launce. Stop there; I’ll have her. She was mine and not mine twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more.
Speed. “Item, She hath more hair than wit”—
Launce. 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”—
Launce. That’s monstrous. O that that were out!
Speed. “And more wealth than faults.”
Launce. 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?
Launce. Why, then will I tell thee—that thy master stays for thee at the North-gate.
Speed. For me?
Launce. For thee? ay, who art thou? He hath stay’d for a better man than thee.
Speed. And must I go to him?
Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay’d so long that going will scarce serve the turn.
Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love-letters!
[Exit.]
Launce. 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.
Exit.
¶
Scene II
Enter Duke, Thurio.
Duke.
Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you
Now Valentine is banish’d from her sight.
Thu.
Since his exile she hath despis’d me most,
Forsworn my company, and rail’d 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?
Pro.
Gone, my good lord.
Duke.
My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro.
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.
Pro.
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?
Pro.
I do, my lord.
Duke.
And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will?
Pro.
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?
Pro.
The best way is to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent,
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duke.
Ay, but she’ll think that it is spoke in hate.
Pro.
Ay, if his enemy deliver it;
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.
Duke.
Then you must undertake to slander him.
Pro.
And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do:
’Tis an ill office for a gentleman,
