Page images
[ocr errors]

Val. The tenour of them doth but fignify
My health, and happy being at your Court.

Duke. Nay then, no matter; stay with me a while;
Iam to break with thee of some affairs,
That touch me near ;. wherein thou must be secret.
'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, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable ; 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 peevith, füllen, 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 cherish'd by her child-like duty,,
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 poffeffions, the esteems not.

Val. What would your Grace have me to do in this ?:
Duke. There is a Lady, t. Sir, in Milan 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;
Befides, the fashion of the time is chang'd,)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if the respects not words ;

+ Sir, in Milan here. It ought to be thus, instead-of-in Verona bere--for the Scene apparently is in Milon, as is clear from several pallages in the first Act, and in the beginning of the first Scene of the fourth Ac. A like mistake has crept into the eighth Scene of AA IL wbere Speed bids his fellow servant Launce, welcome to Padua.

Mr. Pope.


Dumb jewels often in their filent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind,

Duke. But she did scorn a present, that I sent her.

. A woman sometimes fcorns what best contents her;
Send her another; never give her o’er;
For fcorn at first makes after-love the more..
If the do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget

pre 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;.
For, get you gone, fne 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 say, is no man,
If with his congue he cannot win a woman.

Duke. But the 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.

then to
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept fafe;
That no man hath recourse 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 so shelving, that one cannot
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 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.

. When would you use it? pray, Sir, tell me that;
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child,
That longs for ev'ry thing that he can come by;

, By seven a clock i'll get you such a ladder.. Duke. But hark thee : I will go to her alone ;. How hall I best convey the ladder, thither.?


[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

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 Lorde,

Duke. How Mall I fashion me to wear a cloak? I

pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. What letter is this fame? what's here: To Silvia ? And here an engine fit for my proceeding? I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Duke reads.

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,

“ And llaves they are to me, that send them flying: " Oh, could their master come and go as lightly,

“ Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying: “My herald thoughts in thy pure bofom rest them,

" While I, their King, that thither them importune, “ Docurse the grace, that with such grace hath bleft them,

“ Because myself do want my servant's fortune : " I curfe myself, for they are sent by me; That they should barbour, where their lord would be." What’s here ? Silvia, this night will I enfranchise thee : . 'Tis fo; and here's the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaëton, for thou art Merops' son, Wilt thou aspire to guide the heav'nly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder! over-weening slave! Beftow 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 favours, Which, all too much, I have beftow'd on thee, But if thou linger in my territories, Longer than swisteft expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal Court, By heav'n, 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'it thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit

Val. And why not death, rather than living torment ?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself,
And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her,
Is felf 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 mufic 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
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherith'd, 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 Protheus and Launce.
Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-hó! fo-ho!-
Pro. What feest thou ?
Laun, Him we go to find;
There's not an hair on's head, but 'tis 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 wouldit thou strike ?
Laun. Nothing
Pro. Villain, forbear.
Laun. Why, Sir, I'll strike nothing ; I pray you,
Pro. I say, forbear: friend Valentine, a word.


Val. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath posseft them.

Pro. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine;
For they are harsh, untuneable, 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 vanilh'd.

Pro. That thou art banish'd; oh, that is the news, From hence, from:Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already;
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banith'd ?

Pro. Ay, ay; and the hath offer'd to the doom,
Which unrevers'd stands in effectual force,
A fea of melting pearl, which fome call. tears :
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'a,
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
Asif but now they waxed pale for woe.
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor silver-thedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate Sire
But Valentine, if he be ta’en, muft die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When the for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou speakil,
Have some malignant power upon my life :
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helps
And for that which thou lament'ft..
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good :
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love ;


« PreviousContinue »