This love of theirs myself have often seen, Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Duke. Upon mine honour, 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. Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, For me and my possessions she esteems not. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy, Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) 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 contents her: Send her another; never give her o'er : say; For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away: Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, 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 climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. Val. 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. 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 ladder. 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?— [Reads. I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.— Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. While I, their king, that thither them impórtune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd 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. Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee: 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.- Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, 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 torment? 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? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night, |