The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities : with a Memoir, and Essay on His Genius

ACT III.

SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the DUKE's I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,

Palace.

Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS.

Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about.

[Exit 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 favors
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 determined 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 purposed to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunned),
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,

The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be conveyed away.

Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devised 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 aiméd at;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretense.
Duke. Upon mine honor, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.

Enter VALENTINE.

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

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.
"T is 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 honorable; 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 cherished 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.

Duke. Ay, but the doors be locked, and keys
kept safe,

That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets but one may enter at her win-
dow?

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,

Val. What would your grace have me to do in To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,

this?

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteeems 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 changed),
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, 't is not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;

For,

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 lad

der.

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 lord.

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak:

I'll get me one of such another length.

Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my

lord.

Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.—

"Get you gone," she doth not mean What letter is this same ? What's here?-"To

"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 promised 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.

Silvia?"

And here an engine fit for my proceeding!
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads.
"My thoughts do harbor 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 poor bosom rest them;
While I, their king, that thither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blessed
them,

Because myself do want my servants' fortune:

I curse myself, for they are sent by me,

That they should harbor 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 Merop's 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! overweening 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 favors,
Which, all too much, I have bestowed 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 DUKE.

Val. And why not death, rather than living tor-
ment?

To die, is to be banished from myself;
And Silvia is myself; banished from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia 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 music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon:
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Fostered, illumined, cherished, 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 't is a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

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. Sirrah, I say, forbear: - Friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are stopped, and cannot hear good

news,

So much of bad already hath possessed them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.

Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia !— Hath she forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!

What is your news?

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

vanished.

Pro. That thou art banished. O, that is 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 offered to the doom,
(Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force),
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became
them,

As if but now they waxéd pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;

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 delivered
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 be 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 't is I love, and yet 't is a woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milkmaid; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet 't is a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, — which is much in a bare-christian. Here is the cat-log [pulling out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis,

Speed. Thou liest, I can.

Laun. I will try thee: Tell me this: Who begot thee?

Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read.

Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper.
Laun. There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!
Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.
Laun. Ay, that she can.

Speed. Item, She brews good ale.

Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,— "Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale."

Speed. Item, She can sew.

Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so? Speed. Item, She can knit.

Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock?

Speed. Item, She can wash and scour. Laun. A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured.

Speed. Item, She can spin.

Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues.

Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names.

Speed. Here follow her vices.

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra-
Well, I'll have her: And if it be a match,

cious.

Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in as nothing is impossible,

respect of her breath.

Laun. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast: Read on.

Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.

Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.
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.

Speed. What then?

Laun. Why, then I will tell thee, that thy master stays for thee at the north gate.

Speed. For me?

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

Speed. And I must go to him?

Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve the turn.

Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your love-letters! [Exit. Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter: an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him

Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, self into secrets!-I'll after, to rejoice in the and cannot be ta'en from her.

Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.

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

crusts.

Speed. Item, She is curst.

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Speed. 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. 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: now of another thing she may; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. Laun. Stop there; I'll have her; she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: Rehearse that once more.

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, Laun. More hair than wit,- it may be; I'll prove it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed. And more faults than hair.

boy's correction.

[Exit.

SCENE II.The same. A Room 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 banished from her sight.

Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me most.
Forsworn my company, and railed at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenchéd in ice; which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
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)

Laun. That's monstrous: O, that that were Makes me the better to confer with thee. out!

Speed. And more wealth than faults.

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

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