1    Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;
2    We have some secrets to confer about.
Exit THURIO
3    Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?

4    My gracious lord, that which I would discover
5    The law of friendship bids me to conceal;
6    But when I call to mind your gracious favours
7    Done to me, undeserving as I am,
8    My duty pricks me on to utter that
9    Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
10   Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
11   This night intends to steal away your daughter:
12   Myself am one made privy to the plot.
13   I know you have determined to bestow her
14   On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;
15   And should she thus be stol'n away from you,
16   It would be much vexation to your age.
17   Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
18   To cross my friend in his intended drift
19   Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
20   A pack of sorrows which would press you down,
21   Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

22   Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
23   Which to requite, command me while I live.
24   This love of theirs myself have often seen,
25   Haply when they have judged me fast asleep,
26   And oftentimes have purposed to forbid
27   Sir Valentine her company and my court:
28   But fearing lest my jealous aim might err
29   And so unworthily disgrace the man,
30   A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,
31   I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
32   That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
33   And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
34   Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
35   I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
36   The key whereof myself have ever kept;
37   And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

38   Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean
39   How he her chamber-window will ascend
40   And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
41   For which the youthful lover now is gone
42   And this way comes he with it presently;
43   Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
44   But, good my Lord, do it so cunningly
45   That my discovery be not aimed at;
46   For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
47   Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

48   Upon mine honour, he shall never know
49   That I had any light from thee of this.

50   Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming.

51   Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

52   Please it your grace, there is a messenger
53   That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
54   And I am going to deliver them.

55   Be they of much import?

56   The tenor of them doth but signify
57   My health and happy being at your court.

58   Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile;
59   I am to break with thee of some affairs
60   That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
61   'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
62   To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

63   I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match
64   Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman
65   Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities
66   Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter:
67   Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?

68   No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward,
69   Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
70   Neither regarding that she is my child
71   Nor fearing me as if I were her father;
72   And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
73   Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
74   And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
75   Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
76   I now am full resolved to take a wife
77   And turn her out to who will take her in:
78   Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
79   For me and my possessions she esteems not.

80   What would your Grace have me to do in this?

81   There is a lady in Verona here
82   Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy
83   And nought esteems my aged eloquence:
84   Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor--
85   For long agone I have forgot to court;
86   Besides, the fashion of the time is changed--
87   How and which way I may bestow myself
88   To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

89   Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
90   Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
91   More than quick words do move a woman's mind.

92   But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

93   A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
94   Send her another; never give her o'er;
95   For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
96   If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
97   But rather to beget more love in you:
98   If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
99   For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
100  Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
101  For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!'
102  Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
103  Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
104  That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
105  If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

106  But she I mean is promised by her friends
107  Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
108  And kept severely from resort of men,
109  That no man hath access by day to her.

110  Why, then, I would resort to her by night.

111  Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe,
112  That no man hath recourse to her by night.

113  What lets but one may enter at her window?

114  Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
115  And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
116  Without apparent hazard of his life.

117  Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords,
118  To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
119  Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
120  So bold Leander would adventure it.

121  Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
122  Advise me where I may have such a ladder.

123  When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

124  This very night; for Love is like a child,
125  That longs for every thing that he can come by.

126  By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

127  But, hark thee; I will go to her alone:
128  How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

129  It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
130  Under a cloak that is of any length.

131  A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

132  Ay, my good lord.

133  Then let me see thy cloak:
134  I'll get me one of such another length.

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

136  How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
137  I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
138  What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'!
139  And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
140  I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.
Reads
141  'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
142  And slaves they are to me that send them flying:
143  O, could their master come and go as lightly,
144  Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!
145  My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them:
146  While I, their king, that hither them importune,
147  Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,
148  Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
149  I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
150  That they should harbour where their lord would be.'
151  What's here?
152  'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.'
153  'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
154  Why, Phaeton,--for thou art Merops' son,--
155  Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car
156  And with thy daring folly burn the world?
157  Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
158  Go, base intruder! overweening slave!
159  Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
160  And think my patience, more than thy desert,
161  Is privilege for thy departure hence:
162  Thank me for this more than for all the favours
163  Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
164  But if thou linger in my territories
165  Longer than swiftest expedition
166  Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
167  By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love
168  I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
169  Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
170  But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence.

171  And why not death rather than living torment?
172  To die is to be banish'd from myself;
173  And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
174  Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
175  What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
176  What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
177  Unless it be to think that she is by
178  And feed upon the shadow of perfection
179  Except I be by Silvia in the night,
180  There is no music in the nightingale;
181  Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
182  There is no day for me to look upon;
183  She is my essence, and I leave to be,
184  If I be not by her fair influence
185  Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
186  I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
187  Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
188  But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

189  Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

190  Soho, soho!

191  What seest thou?

192  Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head
193  but 'tis a Valentine.

194  Valentine?

195  No.

196  Who then? his spirit?

197  Neither.

198  What then?

199  Nothing.

200  Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

201  Who wouldst thou strike?

202  Nothing.

203  Villain, forbear.

204  Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,--

205  Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.

206  My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news,
207  So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

208  Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
209  For they are harsh, untuneable and bad.

210  Is Silvia dead?

211  No, Valentine.

212  No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia.
213  Hath she forsworn me?

214  No, Valentine.

215  No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.
216  What is your news?

217  Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

218  That thou art banished--O, that's the news!--
219  From hence, from Silvia and from me thy friend.

220  O, I have fed upon this woe already,
221  And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
222  Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

223  Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom--
224  Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force--
225  A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
226  Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
227  With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
228  Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them
229  As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
230  But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
231  Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
232  Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
233  But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
234  Besides, her intercession chafed him so,
235  When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
236  That to close prison he commanded her,
237  With many bitter threats of biding there.

238  No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st
239  Have some malignant power upon my life:
240  If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
241  As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

242  Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
243  And study help for that which thou lament'st.
244  Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
245  Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
246  Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
247  Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that
248  And manage it against despairing thoughts.
249  Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence;
250  Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
251  Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
252  The time now serves not to expostulate:
253  Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate;
254  And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
255  Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
256  As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself,
257  Regard thy danger, and along with me!

258  I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
259  Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.

260  Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

261  O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!

262  I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to
263  think my master is a kind of a knave: but that's
264  all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now
265  that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a
266  team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who
267  'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I
268  will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet
269  'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis
270  a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for
271  wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel;
272  which is much in a bare Christian.
Pulling out a paper
273  Here is the cate-log of her condition.
274  'Imprimis: She can fetch and carry.' Why, a horse
275  can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only
276  carry; therefore is she better than a jade. 'Item:
277  She can milk;' look you, a sweet virtue in a maid
278  with clean hands.

279  How now, Signior Launce! what news with your
280  mastership?

281  With my master's ship? why, it is at sea.

282  Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What
283  news, then, in your paper?

284  The blackest news that ever thou heardest.

285  Why, man, how black?

286  Why, as black as ink.

287  Let me read them.

288  Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read.

289  Thou liest; I can.

290  I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee?

291  Marry, the son of my grandfather.

292  O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy
293  grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read.

294  Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper.

295  There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed!

Reads
296   'Imprimis: She can milk.'

297  Ay, that she can.

298  'Item: She brews good ale.'

299  And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your
300  heart, you brew good ale.'

301  'Item: She can sew.'

302  That's as much as to say, Can she so?

303  'Item: She can knit.'

304  What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when
305  she can knit him a stock?

306  'Item: She can wash and scour.'

307  A special virtue: for then she need not be washed
308  and scoured.

309  'Item: She can spin.'

310  Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can
311  spin for her living.

312  'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.'

313  That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that,
314  indeed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names.

315  'Here follow her vices.'

316  Close at the heels of her virtues.

317  'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting in respect
318  of her breath.'

319  Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on.

320  'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.'

321  That makes amends for her sour breath.

322  'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.'

323  It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

324  'Item: She is slow in words.'

325  O villain, that set this down among her vices! To
326  be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray
327  thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue.

328  'Item: She is proud.'

329  Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot
330  be ta'en from her.

331  'Item: She hath no teeth.'

332  I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

333  'Item: She is curst.'

334  Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

335  'Item: She will often praise her liquor.'

336  If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I
337  will; for good things should be praised.

338  'Item: She is too liberal.'

339  Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she
340  is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that
341  I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and
342  that cannot I help. Well, proceed.

343  'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults
344  than hairs, and more wealth than faults.'

345  Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not
346  mine, twice or thrice in that last article.
347  Rehearse that once more.

348  'Item: She hath more hair than wit,'--

349  More hair than wit? It may be; I'll prove it. The
350  cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it
351  is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit
352  is more than the wit, for the greater hides the
353  less. What's next?

354  'And more faults than hairs,'--

355  That's monstrous: O, that that were out!

356  'And more wealth than faults.'

357  Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well,
358  I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is
359  impossible,--

360  What then?

361  Why, then will I tell thee--that thy master stays
362  for thee at the North-gate.

363  For me?

364  For thee! ay, who art thou? he hath stayed for a
365  better man than thee.

366  And must I go to him?

367  Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long
368  that going will scarce serve the turn.

369  Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love letters!

370  Now will he be swinged for reading my letter; an
371  unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into
372  secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction.