Part 15

Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while, I am to breake with thee of some affaires That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue 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 Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter: Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him? Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward, Prowd, disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty, Neither regarding that she is my childe, Nor fearing me, as if I were her father: And may I say to thee, this pride of hers (Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should haue beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie, I now am full resolu'd to take a wife, And turne her out, to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her wedding dowre: For me, and my possessions she esteemes not

Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this? Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy, And naught esteemes my aged eloquence. Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor (For long agone I haue forgot to court, Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd) How, and which way I may bestow my selfe To be regarded in her sun-bright eye

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words, Dumbe Iewels often in their silent kinde More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde

Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her, Val. A woman somtime scorns what best cotents her. Send her another: neuer giue her ore, For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more. If she doe frowne, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more loue in you. If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone, For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, what euer she doth say, For, get you gon, she doth not meane away. Flatter, and praise, commend, extoll their graces: Though nere so blacke, say they haue Angells faces, That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman

Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth, And kept seuerely from resort of men, That no man hath accesse by day to her

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night

Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night

Val. What letts but one may enter at her window? Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so sheluing, that one cannot climbe it Without apparant hazard of his life

Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords To cast vp, with a paire of anchoring hookes, Would serue to scale another Hero's towre, So bold Leander would aduenture it

Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood Aduise me, where I may haue such a Ladder

Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that

Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe That longs for euery thing that he can come by

Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder

Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone, How shall I best conuey the Ladder thither? Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it Vnder a cloake, that is of any length

Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne? Val. I my good Lord

Duk. Then let me see thy cloake, Ile get me one of such another length

Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord) Duk. How shall I fashion me to weare a cloake? I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me. What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia? And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding, Ile be so bold to breake the seale for once. My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly, And slaues they are to me, that send them flying. Oh, could their Master come, and goe as lightly, Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying. My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them, While I (their King) that thither them importune Doe curse the grace, that with such grace hath blest them, Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune. I curse my selfe, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their Lord should be. What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise thee. 'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose. Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops sonne) Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car? And with thy daring folly burne the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Goe base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates, And thinke my patience, (more then thy desert) Is priuiledge for thy departure hence. Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors Which (all too-much) I haue bestowed on thee. But if thou linger in my Territories Longer then swiftest expedition Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court, By heauen, my wrath shall farre exceed the loue I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe. Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse, But as thou lou'st thy life, make speed from hence

Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment? To die, is to be banisht from my selfe, And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her Is selfe from selfe. A deadly banishment: What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene? What ioy is ioy, if Siluia be not by? Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by And feed vpon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Siluia in the night, There is no musicke in the Nightingale. Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day, There is no day for me to looke vpon. Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be; If I be not by her faire influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue. I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome, Tarry I heere, I but attend on death, But flie I hence, I flie away from life

Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out

Lau. So-hough, Soa hough- Pro. What seest thou? Lau. Him we goe to finde, There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine

Pro. Valentine? Val. No

Pro. Who then? his Spirit? Val. Neither, Pro. What then? Val. Nothing

Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike? Pro. Who wouldst thou strike? Lau. Nothing

Pro. Villaine, forbeare

Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you

Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word

Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes, So much of bad already hath possest them