Duke.

Pro.

Saw you my daughter?

Neither.

Duke. Why, then, she's fled unto that peasant Va

lentine;

And Eglamour is in her company.

"Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she;
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it:
Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not:
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain-foot

That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled.
Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,2
That flies her fortune when it follows her:
I'll after; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless Silvia.3

[Exit.

[Exit.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. [Exit. Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

Out, Come, come;

Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.

Sil. A thousand more mischances, 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,

2 a peevish girl,] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies foolish. So, in King Henry VI. P. I;

Steevens.

"To send such peevish tokens to a king."
reckless Silvia.] i. e. careless, heedless. So, in Hamlet:
like a puff'd and reckless libertine. Steevens.

But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;

There is our captain: we 'll follow him that 's fled;
The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape.

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

And will not use a woman lawlessly.

Sil. O Valentine! this I endure for thee.

SCENE IV.

Another part of the Forest.

Enter VALENTINE.

Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.*
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!"
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;

[Exeunt.

4 ·record my woes.] To record anciently signified to sing, So, in The Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher:

66 O sweet, sweet! how the birds record too?" Again, in a pastoral, by N. Breton, published in England's Helicon, 1614:

"Sweet Philomel, the bird that hath the heavenly throat, "Doth now, alas! not once afford recording of a note." Again, in another Dittie, by Thomas Watson, ibid:

"Now birds record with harmonie."

Sir John Hawkins informs me, that to record is a term still used by bird-fanciers, to express the first essays of a bird in singing. Steevens.

50 thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,

And leave no memory of what it was!] It is hardly possible to point out four lines, in any of the plays of Shakspeare, more remarkable for ease and elegance. Steevens.

And leave no memory of what it was!] So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta:

"And leave no memory that e'er I was." Ritson.

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!—
What halloing, and what stir, is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger 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?
[Steps aside.

Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA.
Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,
(Though you respect not aught your servant doth)
To hazard life, and rescue you from him
That would have forc'd your honour and your love.
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;
A smaller boon, than this, I cannot beg,

And less, than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

[Aside.

Sil. O miserable, 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'st me most unhappy.
Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your presence.

Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
O, heaven be judge, how I love Valentine,
Whose life 's as tender to me as my soul;
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I do detest false, perjur'd Proteus:

Therefore, be gone; solicit me no more.

[Aside.

Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look?

O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv❜d,"

66

my meed,] i. e. reward. So, in Titus Andronicus:

thanks, to men

"Of noble minds, is honourable meed."

Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle, 1575:

Steevens.

"O Christ! that I were sure of it! in faith he should have

his mede."

See also Spenser, and almost every writer of the times. Reed.

and still approv'd,] Approv'd is felt, experienced. Malone.

When women cannot love, where they 're belov'd.

Sil. When Proteus cannot love, where he 's belov'd. Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,

For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury, to love me.

Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou hadst 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.

Who respects friend?

Sil.

In love,

All men, but Proteus.

Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form,

I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end;

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

Pro.

I'll force thee yield to my desire. 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; 8

(For such is a friend now) treacherous man!
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say

I have one friend alive: thou would'st disprove me.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand9

8

that 's without faith or love;] That's is perhaps here used, not for who is, but for id est, that is to say. Malone.

Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand-] The word now is wanting in the first folio. Steevens.

The second folio, to complete the metre, reads:

"Who shall be trusted now, when one's right hand -." The addition, like all those made in that copy, appears to have been merely arbitrary; and the modern word [own, which was introduced by Sir Thomas Hanmer] is, in my opinion, more likely to have been the author's than the other. Malone.

What! "all at one fell swoop!" are they all arbitrary, when Mr. Malone has honoured so many of them with a place in his text? Being completely satisfied with the reading of the second folio, I have followed it. Steevens.

X

Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,

I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,

But count the world a stranger for thy sake.

The private wound is deepest:1 O time, most curst !
'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst!
Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.—
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow

Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender it here; I do as truly suffer,

As e'er I did commit.

Val.

Then I am paid;

And once again I do receive thee honest:-
Who by repentance is not satisfied,

Is nor of heaven nor earth; for these are pleas'd;
By penitence the Eternal's wrath 's appeas'd:-
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.2

1 The private wound, &c.] I have a little mended the measure. The old editions, and all but Sir Thomas Hanmer's, read:

"The private wound is deepest: O time most accurs'd."

Johnson. Deepest, highest, and other similar words, were sometimes used by the poets of Shakspeare's age, as monosyllables. So, in our poet's 133d Sonnet:

"But slave to slavery my sweetest friend must be." Malone. Perhaps our author only wrote-" sweet," which the transcriber, or printer, prolonged into the superlative—“ sweetest.” Steevens.

2 All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.] It is (I think) very odd, to give up his mistress thus at once, without any reason alleged. But our author probably followed the stories, just as he found them in his novels as well as histories. Pope.

This passage either hath been much sophisticated, or is one great proof, that the main parts of this play did not proceed from Shakspeare; for it is impossible he could make Valentine act and speak so much out of character, or give to Silvia so unnatural a behaviour, as to take no notice of this strange concession, if it had been made. Hanmer.

Valentine, from seeing Silvia in the company of Proteus, might conceive she had escaped with him from her father's court, for the purposes of love, though she could not foresee the violence which his villany might offer, after he had seduced her, under the pretence of an honest passion. If Valentine, however, be supposed to hear all that passed between them in this scene, I am afraid I have only to subscribe to the opinions of my predecessors. Steevens.