Pox of your love
letters!
Shakespeare
What then?
LAUNCE. Why, then will I tell thee- that thy master stays for thee
at the Northgate.
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.
Milan. The DUKE'S palace
Enter DUKE and THURIO
DUKE. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
THURIO. 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?
LAUNCE. Why, then will I tell thee- that thy master stays for thee
at the Northgate.
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.
Milan. The DUKE'S palace
Enter DUKE and THURIO
DUKE. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
THURIO. 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?