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For which the youthful lover now is gone,
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ?
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 61 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?
Val. What would your grace have me to do in this
Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, 81
Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ;
90 More than quick words, do inove a woman's mind.
Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more,
Duke. But she I mean, is promis'd by her friends
Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. 110 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, 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 ;
bear it Under a cloak, that is of any length.
Duke. . A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
Duke. Then let me see thy cloak;
Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord:
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? -
[TO SILVIÀ And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once,
[Duke reads. My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly:
And slaves 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 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 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' 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 :
160 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. Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit. Val. And why not death, rather than living torment?
170 To die, is to be þanish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself : banish'd from her, Is self from self; a deadly banishment ! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is jay, 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,