DUKE

Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father is in good health, What say you to a Letter from your friends Of much good news? Know you Done Antonio, your Countryman? Hath he not a Son? You know him well? Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good He is as worthy for and Empress love, As meet to be and Emperor's Councillor: 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 it's no unwelcome news to you. Welcome him then according to his worth: Silvia, I speak to you, and you Sir Thurio, For Ʋ alentine, I needs not cite him to it, I will send him hither to you presently. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Be they of much import? 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. It's not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter. No, trust me, She is peevish, sullen, froward, 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 childlike duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife, And tur her out, to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her wedding dowry: For me, and my possessions she esteems not. 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 ago I have forgotten to court, Beside the fashion of the time is changed) How, and which way I may bestow my self To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. But she did scorn a present that I sent her, 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. I, but the doors be locked, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood Advise me, where I may have such a Ladder. This very night; for Love is Like a child That longs for every thing that he can come by. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? Then let me see thy cloak, I'll get me one of such another length. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? I pray thee let me feel thy cloak upon me. What Letter is this same? what's here? to Silvia ? And here and Engine fit for my proceeding, I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. My thoughts do harbour 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 pure bosom rest-them, While I (their King) that thither them importune Do curse the grace, that with such grace hath blessed them, Because my self do want my servants fortune. I curse my self, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their Lord should be. What's here? Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee. It's so: and here's the Ladder for the purpose. Why Phaeton (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, overweening Slave, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, And think my patience, (more then thy desert) Is privilege for thy departure hence. Thank me for this, more then for all the favors Which (all too much) I have bestowed on thee. But if thou linger in my Territories Longer then swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal Court, By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever boar my daughter, or thy self. Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, But as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence. Sir Thurio, give us leave (I pray) a while, We have some secrets to confer about. Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me? Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs, my self have often seen, Haply when they have judged me fast asleep, And oftentimes have purposed to forbid Sir Ʋ alentine 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 thy self hast now disclosed to me. And that thou mayest perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in and upper Tower, The key whereof, my self have ever kept: And thence she cannot be conveyed away. Upon mine Honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. Sir Valentine ? The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her, as thou hast done, And leave her on such slight conditions. Now, by the honour of my Ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of and Empress love: Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Ʋ alentine, Thou art a Gentleman, and well derived, Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her. I grant it (for thine own) what ere it be. Thou hast prevailed, I pardon them and thee: Dispose of them, as thou knowest their deserts. Come, let us go, we will include all jars, With Triumphs, Mirth, and rare solemnity. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes. What mean you by that saying? But hark thee: I will go to her alone, How shall I best convey the Ladder thither? Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love you Now Valentine is banished from her sighed. This weak impress of Love, is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with and hours hear Dissolves to water, and does lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgotten. How now sir Protheus, is your countryman (According to our Proclamation) gone? My daughter takes his going grievously? So I believe: but Thurio thinks not so: Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee, (For thou hast shown some sign of good desert) Makes me the better to confer with thee. Thou knowest how willingly, I would effect The match between sir Thurio, and my daughter? And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will? I, and perversely, she persevers so: What might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio ? I, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate. Then you must undertake to slander him. Where your good word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him; Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kind, Because we know (on Valentines report) You are already loves firm votary, And cannot soon revolt, and change your mind. Upon this warrant, shall you have access, Where you, with Silvia, may confer at large. For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, To hate young Ʋ alentine, and love my friend. I, much is the force of heaven-bred Poesy. This discipline, shows thou hast been in love. About it Gentlemen. Even now about it, I will pardon you. How now sir Protheus ; how now Thurio ? Which of you saw Eglamoure of late? Saw you my daughter? Why then She's fled unto that pezant, Valentine ; And Eglamoure is in her Company: It's true: for Friar Laurence met them both As he, in penance wandered through the Forest: Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she, But being masked, he was not sure of it. Beside she did intend Confession At Patrick's Cell this even, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; Therefore I pray you stand, not to discourse, But mount you presently, and meet with me Upon the rising of the Mountain foot That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled: Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me.