Luc. But in what habit will you go along;
Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The loofe encounters of lafcivious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with fuch weeds
As may beseem fome well-reputed page.

Luc. Why then your Ladyship muff cut your hair.
Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in filken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love-knots:
To be fantastic, may become a youth

Of greater time than I fhall fhew to be.

Luc. What fashion, Madam, shall I make your breeches? ful. That fits as well, as--" tell me, good my Lord, "What compass will you wear your farthingale? Why, even what fashion thou beft like'ft, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, Madam.

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hofe, Madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a cod-piece to ftick pins on.

Ful. Lucetta, as thou lov'ft me, let me have What thou think'ft meet, and is most mannerly: But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking fo unftaid a journey?

I fear me, it will make me fcandaliz'd.

Luc. If you think fo, then stay at home, and go not.
Jul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but
go.
If Protheus like your journey, when you come,
No matter who's difpleas'd, when you are gone:
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

Jul. That is the leaft, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And inftances as infinite of love,

Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.

Luc. All these are fervants to deceitful men.
Jul. Bafe men, that use them to fo base effect!
But truer ftars did govern Protheus' birth;
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love fincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure meffengers fent from his heart

His heart as far from fraud, as heav'n from earth.

Luc. Pray heav'n he prove fo, when you come to him! Jul. Now, as thou lov'ft me, do him not that wrong, To bear a hard opinion of his truth;

Only deserve my love, by loving him;
And prefently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note, of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey:
All that is mine I leave at thy difpofe,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come, answer not; but to it presently:
I am impatient of my tarriance.

[Exeunt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ACT

III.

SCENE, the Duke's Palace in Milan.
Enter Duke, Thurio, and Protheus.

DUKE.

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

We have some secrets to confer about. [Exit Thur.
Now tell me, Protheus, what's your will with me?
Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I would discover,
The law of friend fhip 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 bestow 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 crofs my friend in his intended drift;

Than,

183 Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

A pack of forrows, which would prefs you down,
If unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honeft care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myfelf have often feen,
Haply, when they have judg'd me faft afleep;
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 rafhness, that I ever yet have shunn'd ;)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself haft now disclos'd to me.
And that thou may'ft perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is foon fuggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence the 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 fo cunningly,
That my difcov'ry be not aimed at ;

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

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.

Enter Valentine.

[Exit Pro.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away fo faft?
Val. Please it your Grace, there is a messenger

That flays to bear my letters to my friends,

And I am going to deliver them.
Duke. Be they of much import?

2

Val

Val. The tenour of them doth but fignify My health, and happy being at your Court.

Duke. Nay then, no matter; ftay with me a while; I am to break with thee of fome 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, fure, the match
Were rich and honourable; befides, the Gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Befeeming fuch a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?

Duke. No, truft me; fhe is peevish, fullen, froward,
Proud, difobedient, 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, fhe 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 esteems 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 beftow myself,
To be regarded in her fun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if the respects not words;

+ Sir, in Milan here. It ought to be thus, instead of-in Verona bere -for the Scene apparently is in Milan, as is clear from feveral paffages in the first Act, and in the beginning of the first Scene of the fourth A&t. A like mistake has crept into the eighth Scene of A&t II. where Speed bids his fellow-fervant Launce, welcome to Padua.

Mr. PORE.

Dumb

Dumb jewels often in their filent kind,

More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
Duke. But fhe did fcorn a prefent, that I fent her.
Val. A woman fometimes fcorns what beft 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 she do chide, tis not to have you gone:
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulfe, whatever fhe doth fay;
For, get you gone, fhe doth not mean away:
Flatter, and praife, commend, extol their graces;
Tho' ne'er fo black, fay, 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 the I mean, is promis'd by her friends
Unto a youthful Gentleman of worth,

And kept feverely from refort of men,

That no man hath access by day to her.

Val. Why then I would refort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd 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 shelving, 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 ferve 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 every thing that he can come by. Val. By feven a clock I'll get you fuch a ladder. Duke. But hark thee: I will go to her alone; How shall I beft convey the ladder thither?

Fal.