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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,
20
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 judg’d me fast asleep,
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And oftentimes have purpos’d 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 shunn’d)
30
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos’d to me.
And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
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The key whereof myself have ever kept,
And thence she cannot be convey’d away.
PROTEUS Know, noble lord, they have devis’d a mean
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
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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 aimed at;
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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.
PROTEUS Adieu, my lord, Sir Valentine is coming.
50
Exit.
Enter VALENTINE.
DUKE Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VALENTINE 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?
55
VALENTINE The tenor of them doth but signify
My health, and happy being at your court.
DUKE Nay then, no matter. Stay with me awhile;
I am to break with thee of some affairs
That touch me near; wherein thou must be secret.
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’Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.
VALENTINE
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
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Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE No, trust me, she is peevish, sullen, froward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my child,
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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 cherish’d by her child-like duty,
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I now am full resolv’d 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.
VALENTINE
What would your grace have me to do in this?
80
DUKE There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence.
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor
(For long agone I have forgot to court,
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Besides the fashion of the time is chang’d)
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind,
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More than quick words, do move a woman’s mind.
DUKE But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
VALENTINE
A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.
Send her another; never give her o’er,
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
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If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you.
If she do chide, ’tis not to have you gone,
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say,
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For ‘get you gone’ she doth not mean ‘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.
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DUKE But she I mean is promis’d 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.
VALENTINE Why, then I would resort to her by night.
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DUKE Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
VALENTINE
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
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Without apparent hazard of his life.
VALENTINE 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.
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DUKE Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
VALENTINE
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.
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VALENTINE 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?
VALENTINE
It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length.
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DUKE A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
VALENTINE Ay, my good lord.
DUKE Then let me see thy cloak,
I’ll get me one of such another length.
VALENTINE
Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
DUKE How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
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I pray thee let me feel thy cloak upon me.
[He takes Valentine’s cloak, and finds with it a letter and a corded ladder.]
What letter is this same? What’s here? ‘To Silvia’!
And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
I’ll be so bold to break the seal for once.
[Reads.]
My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
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And slaves they are to me that send them flying.
O, could their master com
e 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,
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Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blest them,
Because myself do want my servants’ fortune.
I curse myself for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should be.
What’s here?
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Silvia, this night I will 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?
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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.
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Thank me for this, more than for all the favours
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,
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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.
VALENTINE
And why not death, rather than living torment?
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To die is to be banish’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 joy, if Silvia be not by?
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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,
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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
Foster’d, illumin’d, cherish’d, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
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Tarry I here, I but attend on death,
But fly I hence, I fly away from life.
Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.
PROTEUS Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LAUNCE So-ho, so-ho –
PROTEUS What seest thou?
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LAUNCE Him we go to find. There’s not a hair on’s head
but ’tis a Valentine.
PROTEUS Valentine?
VALENTINE No.
PROTEUS Who then? His spirit?
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VALENTINE Neither.
PROTEUS What then?
VALENTINE Nothing.
LAUNCE Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?
PROTEUS Who wouldst thou strike?
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LAUNCE Nothing.
PROTEUS Villain, forbear.
LAUNCE Why, sir, I’ll strike nothing. I pray you –
PROTEUS
Sirrah, I say forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.
VALENTINE
My ears are stopp’d, and cannot hear good news,
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So much of bad already hath possess’d them.
PROTEUS Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.
VALENTINE Is Silvia dead?
PROTEUS No, Valentine.
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VALENTINE No Valentine indeed for sacred Silvia.
Hath she forsworn me?
PROTEUS No, Valentine.
VALENTINE No Valentine if Silvia have forsworn me.
What is your news?
215
LAUNCE
Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.
PROTEUS
That thou art banish’d – O, that’s the news –
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
VALENTINE O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
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Doth Silvia know that I am banished?
PROTEUS Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom
(Which unrevers’d stands in effectual force)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears;
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 540
