As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me! VALENTINE I pray thee, Launce, 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 VALENTINE and PROTEUS LAUNCE 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.
Pulling out a paper Here is the cate-log of her condition.
'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, Signior Launce! what news with your mastership? LAUNCE 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? LAUNCE The blackest news that ever thou heardest. SPEED Why, man, how black? LAUNCE Why, as black as ink. SPEED Let me read them. LAUNCE Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. SPEED Thou liest; I can. LAUNCE I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee? SPEED Marry, the son of my grandfather. LAUNCE O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read. SPEED Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. LAUNCE There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed! SPEED [Reads] 'Imprimis: She can milk.' LAUNCE Ay, that she can. SPEED 'Item: She brews good ale.' LAUNCE And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.' SPEED 'Item: She can sew.' LAUNCE That's as much as to say, Can she so? SPEED 'Item: She can knit.' LAUNCE 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.' LAUNCE A special virtue: for then she need not be washed and scoured. SPEED 'Item: She can spin.' LAUNCE Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. SPEED 'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.' LAUNCE That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names. SPEED 'Here follow her vices.' LAUNCE Close at the heels of her virtues. SPEED 'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting in respect of her breath.' LAUNCE Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. SPEED 'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.' LAUNCE That makes amends for her sour breath. SPEED 'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.' LAUNCE It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. SPEED 'Item: She is slow in words.' LAUNCE 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.' LAUNCE Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. SPEED 'Item: She hath no teeth.' LAUNCE I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. SPEED 'Item: She is curst.' LAUNCE Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. SPEED 'Item: She will often praise her liquor.' LAUNCE 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.' 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 stayed for a better man than thee. SPEED And must I go to him? LAUNCE 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 LAUNCE 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.