Part 21

Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before; How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not

Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not

Ho. Why, my pretty youth? Iu. He plaies false (father.) Ho. How, out of tune on the strings

Iu. Not so: but yet So false that he grieues my very heart-strings

Ho. You haue a quicke eare

Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart

Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique

Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so

Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique

Iu. I: that change is the spight

Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing

Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing. But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on, Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman? Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me, He lou'd her out of all nicke

Iu. Where is Launce? Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his Lady

Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts

Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade, That you shall say, my cunning drift excels

Th. Where meete we? Pro. At Saint Gregories well

Th. Farewell

Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship

Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen) Who is that that spake? Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth, You would quickly learne to know him by his voice

Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it

Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant

Sil. What's your will? Pro. That I may compasse yours

Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this, That presently you hie you home to bed: Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man: Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse, To be seduced by thy flattery, That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes? Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends: For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare) I am so farre from granting thy request, That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite; And by and by intend to chide my selfe, Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee

Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady, But she is dead

Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it; For I am sure she is not buried

Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse) I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd To wrong him, with thy importunacy? Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead

Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried

Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth