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but thatā€™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 ā€™tis I love; and yet ā€™tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet ā€™tis a milkmaid; yet ā€™tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet ā€™tis a maid, for she is her masterā€™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. ā€œImprimis: She can fetch and carry.ā€ Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is she better than a jade. ā€œItem: She can milk;ā€ 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 masterā€™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 Saint Nicholas be thy speed! Speed Reads. ā€œImprimis: She can milk.ā€ Launce Ay, that she can. Speed ā€œItem: She brews good ale.ā€ Launce And thereof comes the proverb: ā€œBlessing of your heart, you brew good ale.ā€ Speed ā€œItem: She can sew.ā€ Launce Thatā€™s as much as to say, Can she so? Speed ā€œItem: She can knit.ā€ Launce What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? Speed ā€œItem: She can wash and scour.ā€ Launce A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured. Speed ā€œItem: She can spin.ā€ Launce Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living. Speed ā€œItem: She hath many nameless virtues.ā€ Launce Thatā€™s as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names. Speed ā€œHere follow her vices.ā€ Launce Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed ā€œItem: She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.ā€ Launce Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. Speed ā€œItem: She hath a sweet mouth.ā€ Launce That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed ā€œItem: She doth talk in her sleep.ā€ Launce Itā€™s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. Speed ā€œItem: She is slow in words.ā€ Launce O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a womanā€™s only virtue: I pray thee, out withā€™t, and place it for her chief virtue. Speed ā€œItem: She is proud.ā€ Launce Out with that too; it was Eveā€™s legacy, and cannot be taā€™en from her. Speed ā€œItem: She hath no teeth.ā€ Launce I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed ā€œItem: She is curst.ā€ Launce Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed ā€œItem: She will often praise her liquor.ā€ Launce If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed ā€œItem: She is too liberal.ā€ Launce Of her tongue she cannot, for thatā€™s writ down she is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that Iā€™ll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. Speed ā€œItem: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.ā€ Launce Stop there; Iā€™ll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. Speed ā€œItem: She hath more hair than wit,ā€ā ā€” Launce More hair than wit? It may be; Iā€™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. Whatā€™s next? Speed ā€œAnd more faults than hairs,ā€ā ā€” Launce Thatā€™s monstrous: O, that that were out! Speed ā€œAnd more wealth than faults.ā€ Launce Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, Iā€™ll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossibleā ā€” Speed What then? Launce Why, then will I tell theeā ā€”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! Iā€™ll after, to rejoice in the boyā€™s correction. Exit. Scene II

The same. The Dukeā€™s palace.

Enter Duke and Thurio. Duke

Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,
Now Valentine is banishā€™d from her sight.

Thurio

Since his exile she hath despised me most,
Forsworn my company and railā€™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 hourā€™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?

Proteus Gone, my good lord. Duke My daughter takes his going grievously. Proteus 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 theeā ā€”
For thou hast shown some sign of good desertā ā€”
Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Proteus

Longer than I prove loyal to

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