Val. The tenour 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, Sir 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
Befeeming fuch a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?
Duke. No, truft me; she is peevish, fullen, froward,
Proud, difobedient, ftubborn, lacking duty;
Neither regarding that fhe is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And may I fay 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 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 effeems not.
Val, What would your Grace have me to do in this?
Duke. There is a Lady, † Sir, in Milan here,
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy,
And nought efteems 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 beftow myself,
To be regarded in her fun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if the refpects not words;

Sir, in Milan here. It ought to be thus, instead-of-in Verona bere for the Scene apparently is in Milan, as is clear from several paffages in the first Act, and in the beginning of the first Scene of the fourth Act. A like mistake has crept into the eighth Scene of A&IL where Speed bids his fellow fervant Launce, welcome to Padua.

Mr. POPE.

Dumb

Dumb jewels often in their filent kind,

More than quick words, do move a woman's mind,
Duke. But fhe did fcorn a prefent, that I fent her.
Val. A woman fometimes 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 say;
For, get you gone, fhe doth not mean away:
Flatter, and praife, commend, extol their graces ;.
Tho' 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 access by day to her.

Val. Why then I would refort to her by night.
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept fafe,
That no man hath recourfe 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 fhelving, 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, Sir, tell me that. Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for ev'ry thing that he can come by. Val. By feven a clock I'll get you fuch a ladder.. Duke. But hark thee: I will go to her alone ;. How fhall I beft 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 ferve the turn? Val. Ay, my good Lord.

Duke. Then let me fee thy cloak;

I'll get me one of fuch another length.

Val. Why, any cloak will ferve the turn, my Lord. Duke. How fhall I fashion me to wear a cloak? I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. What letter is this fame? what's here? To Silvia? And here an engine fit for my proceeding?

I'll be fa bold to break the feal for once. [Duke reads. "My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, "And flaves they are to me, that fend them flying: "Oh, could their mafter come and go as lightly.

"Himself would lodge, where fenfelefs they are lying; "My herald thoughts in thy pure bofom reft them, "While I, their King, that thither them importune, "Docurfe the grace, that with fuch grace hath bleft them, "Because myself do want my fervant's fortune: "I curfe myself, for they are fent by me;

"That they fhould barbour, where their lord would be.”
What's here? Silvia, this night will I enfranchife thee;.
'Tis fo; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops' fon,
Wilt thou afpire to guide the heav'nly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach ftars, because they shine on thee?
Go, bafe intruder! over-weening flave!
Bestow thy fawning fmiles 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 beftow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories,
Longer than fwifteft expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal Court,
By heav'n, my wrath fhall far exceed the love,
I ever bore my daughter or thyself:

Be

Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe,

But as thou lov'ft thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit.
Val. And why not death, rather than living torment ?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself,

And Silvia is myfelf; banish'd from her,
Is felf from felf: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not feen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think, that she is by;
And feed upon the fhadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no mufic in the nightingale ;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon:
She is my effence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Fofter'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, 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.

Enter Protheus and Launce.

Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-ho! fo-ho!-

Pro. What feeft thou?

Laun, Him we go to find;

There's not an hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine,

Val. No.

Pro. Who then; his fpirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Laun. Can nothing fpeak? mafter, fhall I ftrike? Pro. Whom wouldst thou ftrike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, Sir, I'll ftrike nothing; I pray you, Pro. I fay, forbear: friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My ears are ftopt, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath poffeft them.

Pro. Then in dumb filence will I bury mine;
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia! Hath the forfworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forfworn me! What is your news?

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that youare vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'd; oh, that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already; And now excefs of it will make me furfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banish'd?

Pro. Ay, ay; and fhe hath offer'd to the doom,
Which unrevers'd ftands in effectual force,
A fea of melting pearl, whica fome call tears:
Thofe at her father's churlish feet she tender'd,
With them, upon her knees, her humble felf;
Wringing her hands, whofe whitenefs fo became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe.

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompaffionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, muft die.
Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him so,
When the for thy repeal was fuppliant,
That to close prifon he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val. Nomore; unless the next word, that thou speak'ft, Have fome malignant power upon my

life:

If fo, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.

Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canst not help,
And ftudy help for that which thou lament'ft..
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good:
Here if thou stay, thou canst not fee thy love;

Befides,