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. Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cak?I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.— 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; Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. I curse myself, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should be. Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee: "Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. Why, Phaeton, (for thou art Merops' son) Go, base intruder! over-weening slave! Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates; Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, I will not hear thy vain excuse, Be gone, Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE. Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Laun. So-ho! so-ho! Pro. What seest thou? Laun. 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? Val. Neither. Pro. What then? Val. Nothing. Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? Pro. Whom would'st thou strike? Laun. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them. Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untunable, and bad. Val. Is Silvia dead? Pro. No, Valentine. Val, No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news? Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are va nish'd. Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news; From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished? Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, (Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force,) A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears : Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held 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 chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of 'biding there. up, Val. 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.2 Pro. 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; 2 Grief. Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste, and meet me at the northgate. Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! not now, [Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Laun. 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 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 that woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milk-maid: : 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. Here is the cat-log [Pulling out a paper] of her conditions. 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. Item, |