away from

Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know, you have determined to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates :
And should she thus be stoll'n

you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's fake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift;
Than by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke. Protbeus, I thank thee for thine honest care ;
Which to require, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen.
Haply, when they have judg'd me fast alleep
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court :
But, fearing left my jealous aim might err,
And so unworthily disgrace the man,
(A'rashness that I ever yet have shunnid ;)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd' to me.
And that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth iş soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend, And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently : Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. But, good my lord, do it so 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.

7 Be not aim'd at,] Be not 8 of this fretence.] Of this guesed.

claim made to your daughter.

Duke,

7

Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light froin thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord : Sir Valentine is coming.

[Exit Pro.
SCE N E II.

1

Enter Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so faft?

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 signify
My health, and happy being at your court.

Duke. Nay then, no matter ; stay with me awhile;
I am to break with thee of some affairs,
That touch me near ; wherein thou must be secret.
'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 sure, the match
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?
Duke. No, trust me ; she is peevish, fullen, fro-

ward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, 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 resolv'd to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in.
Then let her beauty be her wedding dower,

For

9

For me, and my poffeffions, she esteems not.
Yal. 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 efte«ms my aged eloquence :
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor,
(For long agone I have forgot to court;
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd)
How, and which way, I may beltow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, it le respects 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 sometimes fcorns what belt contents

her; Send her another; never give her o'er ; For fcorn at first makes after love the more, If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you: If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone : For why, the fools are mad if left alone. Take no repulfe, whatever the doth say ; For, get you gone, the doth not mean away : Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their gracesi. Tho' ne'er fo black, say, they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman,

Duke. But she I mean, is promis'd by her friends

& Sir, in Milan here.] It cught Scene of A& II. where Speed to be thus, instead of - in ve bids his fellow servant Launce, rona here

for the scene ap- welcome to Padua. PUPE. parently is in Milan, as is clear 9 The fashion of the time.) The from several pasages in the firft modes of courtihip, the a&ts by Act, and in the beginning of the which men recommended them first Scene of the fourth A&t. A felves to ladies. like mistake has creptintothe eighth

Unto

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night.
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lockt, and keys kepe

safe,
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 so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val. Why then a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale 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 such 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, seven a clock I'll get you such a ladder,

Duke. But hark thee: I will go to her alone ; How shall 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 serve the turn ?
Val. Ay, my good lord.

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak;
I?ll get me one of such another length.

Val. Why, any clock will serve the turn, my lord,

Duke. How shall 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? l'll be so bold to break the real for once. [Duke reads.

2

1

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,

And saves they are to me, that send them flying : Oh, could their master come and go as lightly,

Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying : My berald thoughts in tły pure bosom rest them,

While I, ibeir King, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace, that with such grace hath bleft them,

Because myself do want my servant's fortune ; I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour, where their lord would be. What's here? Silvia, this night will I enfranchise thee : 'Tis so, and here's the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaëton, for thou art Merops' a son, Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder! over-weening slave! Beltow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ; And think, my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence ; Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. But if thou linger in my territories, Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heav'n, my wrath shall far exceed the love, I ever bore my daughter or thyself: Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, Bụt as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.

[Exit.

- for they are sent by me.] the son of a Divinity, but a For is the same as for that, since. terræ filius, a lowborn wretch ;

Merops' fon.] Thou art Merops is thy true father, with Pha ton in thy rashness, but with whom Phaëton was falsly reout his pretensions; thou art not proached.

SCENE