What thou think'ft meet, and is moft mannerly:
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me,
For undertaking fo unftaid a journey?
I fear me, it will make me fcandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think fo, then stay at home, and go not. JUL. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey, when you come,
No matter who's difpleas'd, when you are gone ;
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.
JUL. That is the leaft, Lucetta, of my fear:
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And inftances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
Luc. All these are fervants to deceitful men.
JUL. Base men, that use them to fo base effect!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love fincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure meffengers fent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
Luc. Pray heaven, he prove fo, when you come to him! JUL. Now, as thou lov'ft me, do him not that wrong, To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
Only deserve my love, by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I ftand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy difpofe,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come, anfwer not, but to it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance.
SCENE I. Milan. An Anti-room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS.
DUKE. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray,
We have fome fecrets to confer about.. [Exit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me?
PRO. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeferving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which elfe no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, fir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ;
And fhould fhe thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's fake, I rather chofe
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of forrows, which would prefs you down,
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;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
company, and my court: But, fearing left my jealous aim might err,
And fo, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have fhunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me..
And, that thou may'ft perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key. whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence the cannot be convey'd away.
PRO. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean
How he her chamber-window will afcend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;
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 fo cunningly,
That my discovery be not aimed at ;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this
DUKE. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this.
PRO. Adieu, my lord; fir Valentine is coming. [Exit.
Enter VALENTINE.
DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
VAL. Please it your grace, there is a meffenger
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 fignify
My health, and happy being at your court.
DUKE. Nay, then no matter; ftay with me a while;
I am to break with thee of fome affairs,
That touch me near, wherein thou must be fecret.
'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have fought
To match my friend, fir Thurio, to my daughter.
VAL. I know it well, my lord; and, fure, the match
Were rich and honourable; befides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming fuch a wife as your fair daughter:
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
DUKE. No, trust me; she is peevish, fullen, froward,
Proud, difobedient, 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 her's,
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 refolv'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 fhe esteems not.
VAL. What would your grace have me to do in this?
DUKE. There is a lady, fir, in Milan, here,
Whom I affect; but the 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 fun-bright eye.
VAL. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their filent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. DUKE. But she did fcorn a present that I sent her. VAL. A woman fometime fcorns what beft contents her:
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For fcorn at firft makes after-love the more.
If the do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If the do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulfe, whatever the doth fay;
For, get you gone, fhe doth not mean, away:
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er fo black, fay, they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I fay, is no man,
If with his tongue 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 refort of men,
That no man hath accefs by day to her.
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 fo shelving, that one cannot climb it 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 ferve to fcale 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 fuch a ladder.
VAL. When would you use it? pray, fir, 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 feven o'clock I'll get you fuch a ladder.
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