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And yet take this again; - and yet I thank you;
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet [Aside.
Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?
Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ :
But since unwillingly, take them again;
Nay, take them!

Val. Madam, they are for you.

Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you:

I would have had them writ more movingly.
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.

Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over:
And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam! what then?

Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour;
And so good-morrow, servant!
[Exit Silvia.
Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a
steeple!

My master sues to her ; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better?
That my master, being scribe, to himself should write
the letter?

Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with
yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the

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Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: aJew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manfigure.ner of it: This shoe is my father; no, this left shoe is my father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; - yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog: - O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing! Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well,

Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write
to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?
Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you indeed, sir; but did you
perceive her earnest?

Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

-

Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there he weeps on now come I to my mother, (0, that she

an end.

Val. I would, it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind
discover,

Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her

lover.

All this I speak in print; for in print I found it. -
Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner time.

Val. I have dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved! [Exeunt.

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could speak now!) like a wood woman; -well, I kiss her; — why, there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now, the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. Enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass! you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter, if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd, that ever any man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,- Why dost thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For fear, thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tales

Pant. In thy tail?

Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide! - Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pant. Come, come away, man. I was sent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pant Wilt thou go?

Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
He is as
s as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a-while:

I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth! Silvia, I speak to you, and you, sir Thurio: For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it: I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit Duke. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you?

Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink.

Enter PROTEUS.

Sil. Have done, have done! here comes the gentle

man.

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus!- Mistress, I beseech you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favour!
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he, you oft have wish'd to hear from.
Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship!
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant,
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability!
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant!
Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed;
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome?

Pro. No; that you are worthless.
Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, my lord your father would speak with

you.

Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, sir Thurio,

Go with me! Once more, new servant, welcome!

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. — Milan. An apartment in the Duke's palace.

Enter VALENTINe, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant

Val. Mistress?

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.

Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.

Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

Speed. "Twere good, you knocked him.

Sil. Servant, you are sad.

Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply, I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem I, that I am not?
Val. Wise.

Thu. What instance of the contrary?

Val. Your folly.

Thu. And how quote you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Thu. How?

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon.

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.

Val. You have said, sir.

Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off!

Val. "Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire: Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more! here comes my

father.

Enter DUKE.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?

Val. My lord, I will be thankful

To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?
Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.
Duke. Hath he not a son?

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well?

Val. I knew him, as myself; forfrom our infancy
We have convers'd, and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time,

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection:
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,

I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;

When you have done, we look to hear from you.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

[Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.

Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?

Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended.

Val. And how do yours?

Pro. I left them all in health.

Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love?

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you;

I know, you joy not in a love-discourse.

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Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
I have done penance for contemning love,

That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ?
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love;
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,

That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; o Which, like a waxen image'gainst a fire,
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,

Bears no impression of the thing it was. Love hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold; And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. And that I love him not, as I was wont: o, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord;

0! but I love his lady too, too much; And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,

And that's the reason I love him so little. There is no woe to his correction,

How shall I dote on her with more advice, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!

That thus without advice begin to love her? Now, no discourse, except it be of love;

'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, And that hath dazzled my reason's light; Upon the very naked name of love.

But when I look on her perfections, Pro. Enough! I read your fortune in your eye: There is no reason but I shall be blind. Was this the idol that you worship so?

If I can check my erring love, I will; Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint ? If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.

[Exit. Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon. Val. Call her divine.

SCENE V.- The same. A street. Pro. I will not flatter her.

Enter Speed and Launce. Val. O, flatter me! for love delights in praises. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan! Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ! for I am And I must minister the like to you.

not welcome. I reckon this always—that a man is neVal. Then speak the truth by her! if not divine, ver undone, till he be hanged; nor welcome to a place, Yet let her be a principality,

till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welSovereign to all the creatures on the earth! Pro. Except my mistress.

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale-house Val. Sweet, except not any;

with you presently; where, for one shot of fivepence, Except thou wilt except against my love.

thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? how did thy master part with madam Julia ? Vale And I will help thee to prefer hertoo :

Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they partShe shall be dignified with this high honour, ed very fairly in jest. To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth

Speed. But shall she marry him? Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,

Laun. No. And, of so great a favour growing proud,

Speed. How then? Shall he marry her? Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower,

Laun. No, neither. And make rough winter everlastingly.

Speed. What, are they broken? Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Val. Pardon me, Proteus ! all I can, is nothing Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them? To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing: Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it She is alone.

stands well with her. Pro. Then let her alone.

Speed. What an ass art thou ? I understand thee not. Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is mine own; Laun. What a block art the that thou canst not? And I as rich in having such a jewel,

My staff understands me. As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl,

Speed. What thou say'st? The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,

and my staff understands me. Because thou seest me dote upon my love!

Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. My foolish rival, that her father likes,

Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one. Only for his possessions are so huge,

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Is gone with her along; and I must after,

Laun. Ask my dog ! if he say, ay, it will; if he say, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, Pro. But she loves you?

it will. Val. Ay, and we are betroth’d;

Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. Nay, more, our marriage hour,

Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, With all the cunning manner of our flight,

but by a parable. Determin’d of: how I must climb her window;

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how The ladder made of cords; and all the means say'st thou, that my master is become a notable Plotted, and 'greed on, for my happiness.

lover? Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,

Laun. I never knew him otherwise. In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel !

Speed. Than how? Pro. Go on before, I shall enquire you forth: Laun. A potable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. I must unto the road, to disembark

Speed. Why, thou whorson ass, thou mistakest me. Some necessaries that I needs mustuse;

Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy And then I'll presently attend you.

master. Val. Will you make haste ?

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. Pro. I will.

[Exit Val. Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn Even as one heat another heat expels,

himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the aleOr as one nail by strength drives out another, house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not So the remembrance of my former love

worth the name of a Christian. Is by a newer object quite forgotten.

Speed. Why? Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise,

Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee,

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as to go to the ale with a Christian: Wilt thou go? But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Speed. At thy service.

(Exeunt. Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it barns; SCENE VI. The same. An apartment in the The current, that with gentle murmur glides, palace.

Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; Enter Proteus.'

But, when his fair course is not hindered,
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones,
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;
And even that power, which gave me first my oath, And so by many winding nooks he strays,
Provokes me to this threefold perjury.

With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear: Then let me go, and hinder not my course!
O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd, I'll be as patient, as a gentle stream,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. And make a pastime of each weary step,
At first I did adore a twinkling star,

Till the last step have brought me to my love;
But now I worship a celestial sun.

And there P'll rest, as, after much turmoil, Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;

A blessed soul doth in Elysium. And he wants wit, that wants resolved will

Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
To learn his wit to change the bad for better.

Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent
Fye, fye, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad, The loose encounters of lascivious men.
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds,
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. As may beseem some well-reputed page!
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;

Luc. Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
But there I leave to love, where I should love. Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose:

With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;

To be fantastic may become a youth If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,

Of greater time, than I shall show to be. For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.

Luc.What fashion, madam,shall I make your breechI to myself am dearer, than a friend; For love is still more preciousin itself:

Jul. That fits as well, as—" tell me, good my lord, And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! "What compass will you wear your farthiugale ?” ShewsJulia but a swarthy Ethiope.

Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. I will forget, that Julia is alive,

Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, Rememb’ring, that my love to her is dead;

madam. And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta ! that will be ill-favour'd. Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, I cannot now prove constant to myself,

Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Without some treachery used to Valentine:

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly! To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window; But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me, Myself in counsel, his competitor:

For undertaking so unstaid a journey? Now presently I'll give her father notice

I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. Of their disguising, and pretended flight;

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not! Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;

Jul. Nay, that I will not.
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter: Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go !
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, If Proteaslike your journey, when you come,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, I fear me, he will scarce be pleas’d withal.
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! (Exit. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:

A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
SCENE VII.- Verona. A room in Julia's house. And instances as infinite of love,
Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.

Warrant'me welcome to my Proteus.
Jul. Counsel, Lucetta! gentle girl, assist me! Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,

Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect !
Who art the table, wherein all my thoughts But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
Are visibly character'd and engravid, —

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
To lesson
me; and tell me some good mean,

His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; How, with my honour, I may undertake

His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; A journey to my loving Proteus.

His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long.

Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

to him! To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, Much less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly; To bear a hard opinion of his truth; And when the flight is made to one so dear,

Only deserve my love, by loving him, Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus.

And presently go with me to my chamber, Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make retarn. To take a note of what I stand in need of, Jul.O,know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food ? To furnish me upon my longing journey! Pity the dearth, that I have pined in,

All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, By longing for that food so long a time.

My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,

Only, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence!
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, Come, answer not, but to it presently!
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. I am impatient of my tarriance.

[Exeunt. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire;

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Beseeming such a wife, as your fair daughter:

Cannot your grace win her to fancy him? SCENE I. – Milan. An anti-room in the Duke's

Duke. No, trust me, she is peevish, sullen, fropalace.

ward,
Enter Duke, THUNIO, and Proteus. Prond, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty;
Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile ! Neither regarding, that she is my child,
We have some secrets to confer about.

Norfearing me, as if I were her father:

[Exit Thurio. And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; Pro. My gracious lord, that, which I would dis- And, where I thought, the remnant of mine age cover,

Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, The law of friendship bids me to conceal:

Inow am full resolved to take a wife, But, when I call to mind your gracious favours And turn her out to who willtake herin: Done to me, undeserving as I am,

Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; My duty pricks me on to utter that,

For me and my possessions she esteems not. Which else no worldly good should draw from me. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend, Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, This night intends to steal away your daughter; Whom I assect; but she is nice, and coy, Myself am one made privy to the plot.

And nought esteems my aged eloquence.
I know, you have determin’d to bestow her

Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; (Forlong agone I have forgot to court:
And should she thus be stolen away from you, Besides, the fashion of the time is chang’d;)
It would be much vexation to your age.

How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose

To be regarded in her sun-brighteye. To cross my friend in his intended drift,

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ! Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke. But she did scorn a present, that I sent her. Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best conWhich to requite, command me, while I live.

tents her. This love of theirs myself have often seen,

Send her another; never give her o'er ! Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep, For scorn at first makes after-love the more. And oftentimes have purpos’d to forbid

If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, Sir Valentine her company, and my court :

But rather to beget more love in you: But, fearing, lest my jealous aim might err,

If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,

For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. (A rashness, that I ever yet have shunn’d,)

Take no repulse, whatever slie doth say! I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find

For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away : That, which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces! And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Though ue'er so black, say, they have angels' faces. Knowing, that tender youth is soon suggested, That man, that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,

If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. The key whereof myself have ever kept;

Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devisd a mean, And kept severely from resort of men, How he her chamber-window will ascend,

That no man hath access by day to her. And with a corded ladder fetch her down;

Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. For which the youthful lover now is gone,

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept And this way comes he with it presently;

safe, Where, ifit please yon, you may intercept him. That no man hath recourse to her by night. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,

Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? That my discovery be not aimed at!

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, For love of you, not hate unto my friend,

And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

Without apparent hazard of his life. Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, That I had any light from thee of this.

To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine is coming. (Exit. Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, Enter Valentine.

So bold Leander would adventure it. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger, Adviséme, where I may have such a ladder! That stays to bear my letters to my friends,

Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that! And I am going to deliver them.

Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, Duke. Be they of much import?

That longs for every thing, that he can come by. Val. The tenor of them doth but signify

Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. My health, and happy being at your court.

Duke. But, hark thee! I will go to her alone;
Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while ! How shall I best convey the ladderthither?
I am to break with thee of some affairs,

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. Under a cloak, that is of my lenght. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought

Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Val. Ay, my good lord.

Val. I know it well, my lord; and sure, the match Duke. Then let me see thy cloak!
Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman I'll get me one of such another length.
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities

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

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