And, where 1 I thought the remnant of mine age Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,o More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. Val. A woman sometime scorns what best con tents her: Send her another; never give her o'er; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. you, Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; 6 For, Get you gone,' she doth not mean, 'Away: ' Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels' faces. Duke. But she I mean, is promised 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,1 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, 1 Hinders. 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. I Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?— pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.— What letter is this same? What's here- To Sil via?'. And here an engine fit for my proceeding! I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [reads. 'My thoughts do harbor 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. 1 My herald thoughts 1 in thy pure bosom rest them; While I, their king, that thither them importune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them; Because myself do want my servants' fortune: The thoughts contained in my letter. I curse myself, for 1 they are sent by me, That they should harbor where their lord should be. What's here? '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 favors, Will give thee time to leave our royal court, Be gone; I will not hear thy vain excuse: But, as thou lovest 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; 2 Thou art not descended from Apollo, as Phaeton was; but art the son of an earthly parent. Merops was the husband of Clymene, the mother of Phaëton. And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE. 2 Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Launce. So-ho! so-ho! Pro. What seest thou? Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine. Pro. Valentine ? Val. No. Pro. Who then? his spirit? 1 Cease to exist. 2 By avoiding the execution of this sentence I shall not escape death. |