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ACT III.

SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's

Palace.

Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray awhile; We have some secrets to confer about

[Erit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis

cover,

The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,

My duty pricks me on to utter that

Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter;
Myself 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 she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, 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. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim 6 might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
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 is 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 discovery be not aim'd & at; For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretence.9 Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. Pro. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming.

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Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenor of them doth but signify 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 some affairs, That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought 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, sullen, 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 resolved 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 possessions she 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:
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent 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 scorns what best con-

tents her:

Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For scorn 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 repulse, whatever she doth say;
For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away.
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces :
Though ne'er so 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
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 lock'd, and keys kept 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, | There is no day for me to look upon : 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 every thing that he can come by.

Val. By seven o'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?

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My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly; And slaves they are to me, that send them flying: O, could their master come and go as lightly,

Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them;

While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd 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 should be. What's here?

Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:

Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton (for thou art Merops' 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!
Bestow 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 heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.
Begone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit DOKE.
Val. And why not death, rather than live in tor-
ment?

To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvía be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no musick in the nightingale ·
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Laun. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest thou?

Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

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So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine For they are harsh, untunable, and bad. Val. Is Silvia dead?

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Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd.

Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news; From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, (Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force,) A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of 'biding there. Val. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st, Have some malignant power upon my life: If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament'st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;

Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:
Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love affairs:
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north gate.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine !

[Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave: but that's all one, if he but one knave. He lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: but what woman, I will not tell myself.

Enter SPEED.

Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news with your mastership?

Laun. With my master's ship? why, it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word: What news then in your paper?

Laun. The blackest news, that ever thou heard'st.
Speed. Why, man, how black?

Laun. Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.

Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.

Speed. Item, She is too liberal.?

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not; for that I'll keep shut. What's next?

Speed. She has more faults than hairs, —

Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were out!
Speed. And more wealth than faults.

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gracious: Well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee, master stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. For me?

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Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee.

Speed. And must I go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? plague of your love-letters!

[Exit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets! — I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit.

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-The same. A Koom in the Duke's
Palace.

Enter DUKE and THURIO; PROTEUS behind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love

you,

Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thu. Since his exíle she hath despised 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.

Laun. There; and saint Nicholas 9 be thy speed! A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,

Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.

Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb. — Bless

ing of your heart, you brew good ale.

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Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so?

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.
Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in
her talk.

Speed. Item, She is slow in words.

Laun. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. Item, She is proud.

And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.—
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee
(For thou hast shewn some sign of good desert)
Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace.

Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. I do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duke. Ay, and perversely she persévers so.

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, What might we do to make the girl forget

and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love

rusts.

Speed. Item, She is curst.1

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. 9 St. Nicholas presided over young scholars. 1 Froward.

The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?
Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.

Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate.
Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it :
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him
2 Licentious in language.
3 Cut

Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do:
'Tis an ill office for a gentleman;
Especially, against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him,
Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,

Being entreated to it by your friend.

By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord: if I can do it, That may discover such integrity:

By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,

She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,

It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.

Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, After your dire lamenting elegies,

Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me :
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind;
Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,

And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access,
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.

Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect: -
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime, to tangle her desires,

Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
With some sweet concert: to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump 6; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love.
Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently

To sort 7 some gentlemen well skill'd in musick:
I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,
To give the onset to thy good advice.

Duke. About it, gentlemen.

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper:
And afterward determine our proceedings.
Duke. Even now about it: I will pardon you.
[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

A Forest near Mantua.

Enter certain Out-laws.

ACT IV.

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger.
2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down
with 'em.

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.

3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have

about you;

If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.

2 Out. For what offence?

Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse:
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.

1 Out. Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so
But were you banish'd for so small a fault?
Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
1 Out. Have you the tongues? 8
Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy;

Speed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the villains Or else I often had been miserable.

That all the travellers do fear so much.

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3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction.

1 Out. We'll have him: sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them;

It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Val. Peace, villain!

2 Out. Tell us this: Have you any thing to take
to?

Val. Nothing, but my fortune.

3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungoverned youth Thrust from the company of awful 9 men.

1 Out. But to the purpose,

you are beautified
With goodly shape; and by your own report
A linguist; and a man of such perfection,
As we do in our quality much want;

Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:
2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,

Are you content to be our general?

To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

6 Mournful elegy.

Well looking.

• Languages.

D

7 Choose out.

9 Lawful.

3 Out. What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort?

Say, ay, and be the captain of us all :
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd.

Val. I take your offer, and will live with you; Provided that you do no outrages

On silly women, or poor passengers.

3 Out No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, And shew thee all the treasure we have got ; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

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Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer:
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend :
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips9,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.

Enter THURIO, and Musicians.

Thu. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept before us?

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for you know, that love Will creep in service where it cannot go.

Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. Thu. Whom? Silvia?

Pro. Ay, Silvia,

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- for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.

Enter HOST, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes.

Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?
Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be musick.
Host. Hark! hark!
Jul. Is he among these?

Is she kind, as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing,

Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now? are you sadder than you were before?

How do you, man? the musick likes you not. Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me not. Host. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays false, father.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings?

Jul. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive you delight not in musick.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
Jul. Ay; that change is the spite.

Host. You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he loved her out of all nick. 1

Jul. Where is Launce?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Jul. Peace! stand aside! the company parts. Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you! I will so plead, That you shall say, my cunning drift excels. Thu. Where meet we?

Pro. At saint Gregory's well.'

Thu. Farewell. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.

SILVIA appears above, at her window. Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. Sul. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen: Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. Sil. What is your will? Pro. That I may compass yours. Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this, That presently you hie you home to bed. Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man! [Musick plays. Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seduced by thy flattery,

Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? What is she?

That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admired he.

Passionate reproaches.

That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,
- by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady
But she is dead.

1 Beyond all reckoning.

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