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All that is mine I leave at thy' difpofe,
The Duke's palace, in Milan.
Enter Duke, Thurio, and Protheus.
SIR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;
We have fome fecrets to confer about.
PRO. My gracious lord, that which I would discover,
But when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeferving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that,
Which, elfe, no worldly good fhould draw from me.
I know, you have determin'd to beltow her
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
DUDE. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honeft care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
gave him gentle looks; thereby to find That which thyself haft now difclos'd to me. And that thou may'ft perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is foon fuggested, 1 nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence he cannot be convey'd away,
PRO. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean
And with a corded ladder fetc
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
That my discov'ry be not aim'd at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
DUKE. Upon mine honour, he fhall never know That I had any light from thee of this.
PRO. Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming [Exit Pro.
DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
DUKE. Be they of much import?
VAL. The tenour of them doth but fignify My health, and happy being at your court.
DUKE. Nay then, no matter; stay with me a while; I am to break with thee of fome affairs, That touch me near; wherein thou must be fecret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have fought To match my friend, Sir Thurio, to my daughter.
VAL. I know it well, my lord, and, fure, the match Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming fuch a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE. No, trust me; she is peevish, fullen, froward,
And turn her out to who will take her in.
VAL. What would your grace have me to do in this? DUKE. There is a lady, Sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy, And nought efteems my aged eloquence: Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court; Befides, the fashion of the time is chang'd) How, and which way, I may bestow myself, To be regarded in her fun-bright eye.
VAL. Win her with gifts, if the refpects not words; Dumb jewels often in their filent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
DUKE. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VAL. A woman fometimes scorns what best contents her;
Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For fcorn at firft makes after-love the more.
If the do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
DUKE. But the I mean, is promïs'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from refort of men,
VAL. Why then I would refort to her by night..
That no man hath recourse to her by night.]
VAL. What lets, but one may enter at her window ?
VAL. Why then a ladder quaintly made of cords,
DUKE. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have fuch a ladder.
VAL. When would you use it? pray, Sir, tell me that. DUKE. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for ev'ry thing that he can come by." VAL. By feven o'clock I'll get you fuch a ladder. DUKE. But hark thee: I will go to her alone; How fhall I best convey the ladder thither ?
VAL. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length...
DUKE. A cloak as long as thine will ferve the turn?
DUKE. Then let me fee thy cloak;
VAL. Why, any cloak will ferve the turn, my lord.
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,