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Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'ft me, let me have What thou think'ft meet, and is moft 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 ftay 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 thefe 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 presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I ftand 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 difpatch me hence.
Come, anfwer not; but to it presently:
I am impatient of my tarriance.



Scene changes to Milan. Enter Duke, Thurio and Protheus.

Duke. SIR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a [Ex.

We have fome fecrets to confer about. [Ex. Thu. Now tell me, Protheus, what's your will with me?

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Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would difcover The law of friendship 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 uttter that,

Which elfe no worldly good fhould draw from me.
Know, worthy Prince, Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to fteal 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 fhe 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 cross my friend in his intended drift,
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 myself have often seen,
Haply when they have judg'd me fast asleep;
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 fhunn'd ;)
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyfelf hath 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 afcend,
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 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 shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming. [Ex. Pro.
SCENE II. Enter Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That ftays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.
Duke. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenour of them doth but fignifie
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 fome affairs

That touch me near; wherein thou must be fecret,
'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 the is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And I may fay 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-dowry;
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 he is nice and coy,


And nought efteems 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 bestow myself,
To be regarded in her fun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if the refpects not words; Dumb jewels often in their filent kind,

More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
Duke. But he 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 fhe do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If the do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad if left alone,
Take no repulfe, whatever the doth fay;
For, get you gone, the doth not mean away:
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Tho' ne'er fo black, fay they have angels faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I fay, 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 accefs by day to her.

Val. Why then I would refort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lockt, and keys kept fafe, That no man hath recourfe 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,

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Val. When would you use it? pray, Sir, tell Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for ev'ry 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 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 ferve the turn?
Val. Ay, my good lord.

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 fafhion me to wear a cloak?

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. [Pulls off bis cloak.
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 barbour with my Silvia nightly,
And flaves they are to me that fend them flying:
Ob, could their mafter come and go as lightly,

Himfelf 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 bath bleft them,
Because my felf do want my fervants fortune:
I curfe my felf, for they are fent by me,

That they fhould barbour where their lord would be. What's here? Silvia, this night will I infranchife thee: 'Tis fo; and here's the ladder for the purpose.

Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops' fon,
Wilt thou afpire to guide the heav'nly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?

Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Go, bafe-intruder! over-weening slave!
Beftow thy fawning fmiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy defert,
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,


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