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 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 ev'ry 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?
VAL. Ay, my good lerd.

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.

[Duke reads,

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

Oh, could their master come and go as lightly, "Himself would lodge, where fenfelefs they are lying: << My herald thoughts in thy pure bofom reft them, "While I, their king, that thither them importune, "Do curfe the grace, that with fuch grace hath bleft them, "Because myself do want my fervant's fortune;

I curfe myself, for they are fent by me,

"That they should harbour, where their lord would be."
What's here?" Silvia, this night will I enfranchise thee."
'Tis fo, and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops' fon,
Wil thou afpire 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 flave!

Bestow thy fawning fmiles on equal mates;
And think, my patience, more than thy defert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence;

favours,

Thank me for this, more than for all the fa

Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee,,
But if thou linger in my territories,

Longer than fwifteft expedition:

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heav'n, my wrath fhall far exceed the love,

I ever bore my daughter or thy felf:

Be

gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,

་་་་་

But as thou lov'ft thy life, make speed from hence., [Exit,

SCENE III.

VAL. And why not death, rather than living torment?

To die, is to be banish'd from myfelf:

And Silvia is myself, banish'd from her,

Is felf from felf: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not feen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?"
Unless it be to think, that she is by ?
And feed upon the fhadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no mufick in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my effence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Fofter'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept live.
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 Protheus and Launce.

PRO. Run, boy, run, run, and feek him out.

LAUN. So-ho! fo-ho!

PRO. What feeft thou?

LAUN. Him we go to find:

There's not an hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.
PRO. Valentine,

PRO. Who then; his spirit?

VAL. Neither.

PRO. What then?

VAL. Nothing.

LAUN. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike ?

PRO. Whom wouldst thou strike?

LAUN. Nothing.

PRO. Villain, forbear.

LAUN. Why, Sir, I'll strike nothing; I pray you➡ PRO. I fay, forbear: friend Valentine, a word. VAL. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news; So much of bad already hath possest them.

PRO. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine; For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.

VAL. Is Silvia dead?

PRO. No, Valentine.

VAL. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia !

Hath fhe forfworn me?

PRO. No, Valentine.

VAL. No Valentine, if Silvia hath forfworn me!

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

PRO. That thou art banish'd; oh, that is the news,
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
VAL. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already;
And now excefs of it will make me furfeit.
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 fea of melting pearl, which some call tears;
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd,
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf,
Wringing her hands, whofe whiteness so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe.
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompaffionate fire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him fo,

When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,

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 fome malignant power upon my life;

If fo, 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 ftay, thou canst not see thy love;
Befides thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's ftaff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, tho' thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Ev'n in the milk-white bofom of thy love...
The time now ferves not to expoftulate;
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't Silvia, tho' not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.

VAL. I pray thee, Launce, an' if thou feeft my boy,
Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the north-gate.
PRO. Co, Sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
VAL. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine!

[Exeunt Valentine and Protheus.

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 be but one knave. He lives not now that knows