Chapter: ACT III. SCENE I. 

_Milan. Ante-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 Thu._
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;                            5
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,                      10
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,                        15
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,                      20
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;                         25
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 shunn'd,                            30
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,                              35
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

_Pro._ Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down;                            40
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 aimed at;                                  45
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.

_Pro._ Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming.    [_Exit._         50

  _Enter VALENTINE._

_Duke._ Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?

_Val._ 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?                                     55

_Val._ The tenour 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.                    60
'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

_Val._ 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                      65
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,                             70
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 cherish'd by her child-like duty,                  75
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.

_Val._ What would your Grace have me to do in this?                 80

_Duke._ There is a lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but she 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;                              85
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed,--
How and which way I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

_Val._ Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind                              90
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.

_Duke._ But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

_Val._ A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.
Send her another; never give her o'er;
For scorn at first makes afterlove the more.                        95
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;                            100
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.                          105

_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.

_Val._ Why, then, I would resort to her by night.                  110

_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 so shelving, that one cannot climb it                    115
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.                                120

_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,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.                    125

_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.                               130

_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 cloak?                    135
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;                140
      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,            145
    Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them,
      Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
    I curse myself, for they are sent by me,
    That they should harbour where their lord would be.

What's here?                                                       150

    'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.'

'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaethon,--for thou art Merops' son,--
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?                          155
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:                              160
Thank me for this more than for all the favours,
Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,                      165
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 lovest thy life, make speed from hence.    [_Exit._

_Val._ And why not death rather than living torment?               170
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd 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?                              175
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,                                180
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
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:                           185
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

  _Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE._

_Pro._ Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

_Launce._ Soho, soho!

_Pro._ What seest thou?                                            190

_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?                                       195

_Val._ Neither.

_Pro._ What then?

_Val._ Nothing.

_Launce._ Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

_Pro._ Who wouldst thou strike?                                    200

_Launce._ Nothing.

_Pro._ Villain, forbear.

_Launce._ Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,--

_Pro._ Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word.

_Val._ My ears are stopt, and cannot hear good news,               205
So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

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

_Val._ Is Silvia dead?

_Pro._ No, Valentine.                                              210

_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?                                                 215

_Launce._ Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished.

_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.                         220
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

_Pro._ Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd 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 tender'd;                  225
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 up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,                 230
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,                             235
With many bitter threats of biding there.

_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.                             240

_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;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.                        245
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 deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.                          250
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 lovest Silvia, though not for thyself,                     255
Regard thy danger, and along with me!

_Val._ I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate.

_Pro._ Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.

_Val._ O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine!                        260

    [_Exeunt Val. and Pro._

_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         265
'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.                                 270
  [_Pulling out a paper._]
Here is the cate-log of her condition. '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: She can milk;' look you, a
sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands.                           275

  _Enter SPEED._

_Speed._ How now, Signior 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?                                    280

_Launce._ The blackest news that ever thou heardest.

_Speed._ Why, man, how black?

_Launce._ Why, as black as ink.

_Speed._ Let me read them.

_Launce._ Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read.             285

_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.                              290

_Speed._ Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper.

_Launce._ There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

_Speed_ [_reads_]. 'Imprimis: She can milk.'

_Launce._ Ay, that she can.

_Speed._ 'Item: She brews good ale.'                               295

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

_Speed._ 'Item: She can sew.'

_Launce._ That's as much as to say, Can she so?

_Speed._ 'Item: She can knit.'                                     300

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

_Speed._ 'Item: She can wash and scour.'

_Launce._ A special virtue; for then she need not be
washed and scoured.                                                305

_Speed._ 'Item: She can spin.'

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

_Speed._ 'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.'

_Launce._ That's as much as to say, bastard virtues;               310
that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no
names.

_Speed._ 'Here follow her vices.'

_Launce._ Close at the heels of her virtues.

_Speed._ 'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect        315
of her breath.'

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

_Speed._ 'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.'

_Launce._ That makes amends for her sour breath.                   320

_Speed._ 'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.'

_Launce._ It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk.

_Speed._ 'Item: She is slow in words.'

_Launce._ O villain, that set this down among her vices!           325
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._ 'Item: She is proud.'

_Launce._ Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and
cannot be ta'en from her.                                          330

_Speed._ 'Item: She hath no teeth.'

_Launce._ I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

_Speed._ 'Item: She is curst.'

_Launce._ Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.            335

_Speed._ '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._ 'Item: She is too liberal.'

_Launce._ Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down           340
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._ 'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more
faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.'                   345

_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._ 'Item: She hath more hair than wit,'--

_Launce._ More hair than wit? It may be; I'll prove it.            350
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._ 'And more faults than hairs,'--

_Launce._ That's monstrous: O, that that were out!                 355

_Speed._ '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?                                                360

_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.                                        365

_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._                                          370

_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._



  Notes: III, 1.

  Ante-room] Capell.
  2: [Exit Thu.] Rowe.
  7: _as_] F1 F3 F4. _as as_ F2.
  21: _Being_] _If_ Pope.
  _unprevented_] F1 F2. _unprepared_ F3 F4.
  32: _hast_] _hath_ Pope.
  33: _that_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
  50: [Exit] Rowe.
  Enter Valentine.] om. F1. [Enter. F2 F3 F4.
  51: SCENE II. Pope.
  _whither_] F2. _whether_ F1 (and elsewhere).
  56: _tenour_] _tenure_ Ff.
  72: _may I_] _I may_ Hanmer.
  78: _dower_] _dowre_ Ff. _dowry_ Hanmer.
  81: _in Verona_] Ff. _sir, in Milan_ Pope. _in Milano_ Collier MS.
    _of Verona_ Halliwell. See note (VII).
  83: _nought_] F2 F3 F4. _naught_ F1.
  89: _respect_] F1 F2 F3. _respects_ F4.
  92: _that I sent her_] _that I sent, sir_ Steevens conj.
  93: _contents_] _content_ Mason conj.
  98: _'tis_] F1 F3 F4. _'its_ F2.
  99: _For why, the_] _For why the_ Dyce.
  105: _with_] F1 F3 F4. _this_ F2.
  139: [Reads] Rowe.
  149: _would be_] F2 F3 F4. _should be_ F1.
  151: _I will_] F1 F2 F3. _will I_ F4.
  154: _car_] _cat_ F3 F4.
  169: [Exit] F2.
  170: SCENE III. Pope.
  Enter PRO. and LAUNCE] F2.
  189: _Soho, soho!_] _So-hough, Soa hough--_ F1.
  200: _Who_] F1. _Whom_ F2 F3 F4.
  204: _Sirrah_] om. Pope.
  216: _vanished_] _vanish'd_ Pope.
  217: _banished--O that's_] _banish'd: oh, that's_ Ff. _banish'd--O,
    that is_ Pope. _banished--_ Val. _Oh, that's the news!_ Pro. _From
    hence, ... _ Edd. conj.
  260: [Exeunt Val. and Pro.] Exeunt. F2.
  261: SCENE VI. Pope, by misprint for IV.
  263: _one knave_] _one kind of knave_ Hanmer. _one kind_ Warburton.
    _one in love_ Staunton conj.
  270: [Pulling out a paper] Rowe.
  271: _cate-log_] _cat-log_ Pope.
  _condition_] F1 F2 F3. _conditions_ F4.
  274: _milk;' look you,_] _milk, look you;_' Capell.
  276: Enter Speed] F2.
  278: _master's ship_] Theobald. _Mastership_ Ff.
  293, 294: om. Farmer conj.
  293: _Imprimis_] _Item_ Halliwell.
  304: _need not be_] F1. _need not to be_ F2 F3 F4.
  313: _follow_] F1. _followes_ F2. _follows_ F3 F4.
  315: _kissed_] Rowe. om. Ff.
  322: _sleep_] _slip_ Collier MS.
  325: _O ... this_] _O villaine, that set this_ F1. _O villainy,
    that set_ F2 F3. _Oh villain! that set_ F4. _O villainy that set
    this_ Malone.
  342: _cannot I_] _I cannot_ Steevens.
  344: _hair_] F1. _hairs_ F2 F3 F4.
  347: _that last_] F1. (in some copies only, according to Malone.)
    _that_ F2 F3 F4.
  350: _It may be; I'll prove it_] Theobald. _It may be I'll prove it_
    Ff.
  369: _of_] F1 F2. om. F3 F4.
  370: [Exit] Capell.
  373: [Exit.] Capell.    [Exeunt. Ff.

 After Proteus betrays Valentine to the Duke , the Duke fully satisfies himself that his daughter is indeed planning to elope with the Veronese gentleman instead of marrying the wealthy merchant, Thurio. He perpetrates a ruse on Valentine, pretending himself to be in love with a woman and asking advice on how best to gain her favor. Valentine falls for the trick, assuring the Duke, That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Eager to please Silvia's father, Valentine cheerfully explains how best to conceal a rope ladder when approaching the tower where his lover is "imprisoned." The Duke opens Valentine's cloak to discover a love letter to Silvia and "an engine fit for my proceeding." The upshot is instant banishment for the gullible Valentine, who is left to lament: And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banished from myself; And Silvia is myself. Proteus arrives with "comforting' words . He suggests that Valentine accept banishment, satisfying himself with letters to Silvia, which Proteus promises to deliver: 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. To end the scene, Shakespeare has Speed and Launce discuss the merits of the latter's loved one, itemized on a sheet of paper which he carries with him.

