Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
 Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS.

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

Proteus	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, undeserving as I am,
	My duty pricks me on to utter that
	Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
	Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
	This night intends to steal away your daughter.
	Myself am one made privy to the plot.
	I know you have determined to bestow her
	On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,
	And should she thus be stol'n away from you
	It would be much vexation to your age.
	Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
	To cross my friend in his intended drift,
	Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
	A pack of sorrows which would press 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 judged me fast asleep,
	And oftentimes have purposed to forbid
	Sir Valentine her company and my court.
	But fearing lest my jealous aim might err,
	And so, unworthily, disgrace the man-
	A rashness that I ever yet have shunned-
	I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
	That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.
	And that thou mayst 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 she cannot be conveyed away.

Proteus	Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean
	How he her chamber window will ascend
	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 so cunningly
	That my discovery be not aimd at;
	For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
	Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

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

Proteus	Adieu, my lord. Sir Valentine is coming.
												[Exit.
                             Enter VALENTINE.

Duke	Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

Valentine	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?

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

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

Valentine	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 peevish, sullen, 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 cherished by her childlike duty,
	I now am full resolved 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 possessions she esteems not.

Valentine	What would your grace have me to do in this?

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

Valentine	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.

Valentine	A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.
	Send her another; never give her o'er,
	For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
	If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
	But rather to beget more 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' she doth not mean 'away'.
	Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
	Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
	That man that hath a tongue I say is no man
	If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duke	But she I mean is promised 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.

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

Duke	Ay, but the doors be locked, and keys kept safe,
	That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Valentine	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.

Valentine	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.

Valentine	When would you use it? Pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke	This very night; for Love is like a child
	That longs for everything that he can come by.

Valentine	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?

Valentine	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?

Valentine	Ay, my good lord.

Duke						Then let me see thy cloak;
	I'll get me one of such another length.

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

Duke	How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
	I pray thee let me feel thy cloak upon me.
								  [He takes Valentine's cloak and
									 finds a letter and a ladder.

	What letter is this same? What's here? - "To Silvia"!
	And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
	I'll be so bold to break the seal for once.

	[Reads.]
	"My thoughts do harbour 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.
	My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them,
		While I, their king, that thither them importune,
	Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blest 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."

	What's here?

	[Reads.] "Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee."

	'Tis so, and here's the ladder for the purpose.
	Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops' son
	Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
	And with thy daring folly burn the world?
	Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
	Go, base intruder, overweening slave!
	Bestow 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 bestowed on thee.
	But if thou linger in my territories
	Longer than swiftest expedition
	Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
	By heaven, 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'st thy life, make speed from hence.
												[Exit.
Valentine	And why not death, rather than living torment?
	To die is to be banished from myself,
	And Silvia is myself. Banished 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,
	There is no music 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
	Fostered, illumined, cherished, 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.

                      Re-enter PROTEUS, and LAUNCE.

Proteus	Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out.

Launce	So-ho, so-ho!

Proteus	What seest thou?

Launce	Him we go to find. There's not a hair on's head but 'tis a 
	Valentine.

Proteus	Valentine?

Valentine	No.

Proteus	Who then? His spirit?

Valentine	Neither.

Proteus	What then?

Valentine	Nothing.

Launce	Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

Proteus	Who wouldst thou strike?

Launce	Nothing.

Proteus	Villain, forbear.

Launce	Why, sir, I'll strike nothing. I pray you-

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

Valentine	My ears are stopped, and cannot hear good news,
	So much of bad already hath possessed them.

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

Valentine	Is Silvia dead?

Proteus	No, Valentine.

Valentine	No Valentine indeed, for sacred Silvia!
	Hath she forsworn me?

Proteus	No, Valentine.

Valentine	No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!
	What is your news?

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

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

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

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

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

Proteus	Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
	And study help for that which thou lament'st.
	Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
	Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love;
	Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
	Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
	And manage it against despairing thoughts.
	Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
	Which, being writ to me, shall be delivered
	Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
	The time now serves not to expostulate.
	Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate,
	And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
	Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
	As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
	Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Valentine	I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
	Bid him make haste and meet me at the North Gate.

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

Valentine	O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!
								   [Exeunt PROTEUS and VALENTINE.

Launce	I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think 
	my master is a kind of a knave; but that's all one, if he 
	be but one knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in 
	love, yet I am in love, but a team of horse shall not pluck 
	that from me, nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; 
	but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a 
	milkmaid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; 
	yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves 
	for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, 
	which is much in a bare Christian.
												[Taking out a paper.
	Here is the cate-log of her condition. [Reads.] "Imprimis, 
	she can fetch and carry". Why, a horse can do no more; nay, 
	a horse cannot fetch, but only carry, therefore is she 
	better than a jade. [Reads.] "Item, she can milk"; look 
	you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.

                               Enter SPEED.

Speed	How now, Signor Launce! What news with your mastership?

Launce	With my master's ship? Why, it is at sea.

Speed	Well, your old vice still - mistake the word. What news, 
	then, in your paper?

Launce	The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.

Speed	Why, man, how black?

Launce	Why, as black as ink.

Speed	Let me read them.

Launce	Fie on thee, jolthead, thou canst not read.

Speed	Thou liest; I can.

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

Speed	Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Launce	O illiterate loiterer! It was the son of thy grandmother. 
	This proves that thou canst not read.

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

Launce	[Giving him the paper.] There; and Saint Nicholas be thy 
	speed!

Speed	[Reads.] "Imprimis, she can milk."

Launce	Ay, that she can.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she brews good ale."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she can sew."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she can knit."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she can wash and scour."

Launce	A special virtue, for then she need not be washed and 
	scoured.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she can spin."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she hath many nameless virtues."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Here follow her vices."

Launce	Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she is not to be kissed fasting, in respect 
	of her breath."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she hath a sweet mouth."

Launce	That makes amends for her sour breath.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she doth talk in her sleep."

Launce	It's no matter for that; so she sleep not in her talk.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she is slow in words."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she is proud."

Launce	Out with that too. It was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en 
	from her.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she hath no teeth."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she is curst."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she will often praise her liquor."

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

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she is too liberal."

Launce	Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she is slow 
	of. Of her purse she shall not, for that I'll keep shut. 
	Now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. 
	Well, proceed.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she hath more hair than wit, and more 
	faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults."

Launce	Stop there; I'll have her. She was mine, and not mine, 
	twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once 
	more.

Speed	[Reads.] "Item, she hath more hair than wit."

Launce	"More hair than wit"? - it may be; I'll prove it. The cover 
	of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than 
	the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the 
	wit, for the greater hides the less. What's next?

Speed	[Reads.] "And more faults than hairs."

Launce	That's monstrous! O, that that were out!

Speed	[Reads.] "And more wealth than faults."

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

Speed	What then?

Launce	Why, then will I tell thee that thy master stays for thee 
	at the North Gate.

Speed	For me?

Launce	For thee! Ay, who art thou? He hath stayed for a better man 
	than thee.

Speed	And must I go to him?

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

Speed	Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters!
												[Exit.
Launce	Now will he be swinged for reading my letter. An unmannerly 
	slave, that will thrust himself into secrets. I'll after, 
	to rejoice in the boy's correction.
												[Exit.
