All that is mine I leave at thy' difpofe,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, difpatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but do it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance.

ACT III.

!,

SCENE I.

The Duke's palace, in Milan.

tog i

Enter Duke, Thurio, and Protheus.

[Exeunt

DUKE.

SIR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;

We have fome fecrets to confer about.
Now tell me, Protheus, what's your will with me?

PRO. My gracious lord, that which I would discover,
The law of friendship bids me to conceal;

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.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine
my friend
This night intends to steal away your daughter:
Myfelf am one made privy to the plot.

I know, you have determin'd to beltow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates:
And should the thus be ftol'n away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's fake, I rather chofe
To cross my friend in his intended drift;
Than by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of forrowe, which would prefs you down,

[Exit Thur.

Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

DUDE. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honeft care;

Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judg'd me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing left my jealous aim might err,
And fo unworthily difgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have fhunn'd;)

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
How he her chamber-window will afcend,

And with a corded ladder fetc
fetch her down;
For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently:

2)

Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it fo cunningly,

That my discov'ry be not aim'd at;

For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

11.

*

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.

0 3

SCENE II.

Enter Valentine.

DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VAL. Please it your Grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.

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,
Proud, disobedient, ftubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father.
And may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full refolv'd to take a wife,

And turn her out to who will take her in.
Then let her beauty be her wedding dower,
For me, and my poffeffions, the esteems not.

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,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If the do chide, 'tis not to have you gone
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever fhe doth say;
For, "
get you gone," he doth not mean away:"
Flatter and praife, commend, extol their graces;
Tho' ne'er fo black, fay, they have angel's faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I fay, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

DUKE. But the I mean, is promïs'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,

And kept severely from refort of men,
That no man hath accefs by day to her.

VAL. Why then I would refort to her by night..
DUKE. Ay, but the doors be lockt, and keys kept fafe,

That no man hath recourse to her by night.]

VAL. What lets, but one may enter at her window ?
DUKE. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built fo fhelving, that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.

VAL. Why then a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To caft up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to fcale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.'

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?
VAL. Ay, my good lcrd.

DUKE. Then let me fee thy cloak;
I'll get me one of fuch another length.

VAL. Why, any cloak will ferve the turn, my lord.
DUKE. How fhall I fashion me to wear a cloak?

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
What letter is this fame? what's here? To Silvia?
And here an engine fit for my proceeding?
I'll be fo bold to break the feal for once.

66

[Duke reads,

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
And flaves they are to me, that fend them flying: