The Two Gentlemen of Verona (9 page)

DUKE
    Sir Turio,
give us leave
¹
, I pray, awhile:

We have some secrets to confer about.

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
⁸
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
¹²
the plot.

I know you have determined to bestow her

On Turio, whom your gentle daughter hates,

And should she thus be stol’n away from you,

It would be much
vexation
¹⁶
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
²¹
grave.

DUKE
    Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care,

Which to
requite
,
command me
²³
while I live.

This love of theirs myself have often seen,

Haply when they have judged me fast asleep,

And oftentimes have
purposed
²⁶
to forbid

Sir Valentine her company and my court.

But fearing lest my
jealous aim
²⁸
might err

And so unworthily disgrace the man—

A rashness that I ever yet have shunned—

I gave him
gentle
looks,
thereby to find
³¹

That which thyself hast now disclosed to me.

And that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,

Knowing that tender youth is soon
suggested,
³⁴

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 aimed at:
⁴⁵

For love of you, not hate unto my friend,

Hath made me
publisher
of this
pretence.
⁴⁷

DUKE
    Upon mine honour, he shall never know

That I had any
light
⁴⁹
from thee of this.

PROTEUS
    Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming.

DUKE
    Sir Valentine,
whither away
⁵¹
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
⁵⁶
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
⁵⁹
with thee of some affairs

That
touch me near
⁶⁰
, wherein thou must be secret.

’Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought

To match my friend Sir Turio 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
⁶⁵
, worth and qualities

Beseeming
⁶⁶
such a wife as your fair daughter.

Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

DUKE
    No, trust me, she is
peevish
, sullen,
froward,
⁶⁸

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,

Neither
regarding
⁷⁰
that she is my child

Nor fearing me
as if I were
⁷¹
her father.

And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,

Upon
advice
⁷³
, hath drawn my love from her,

And, where I thought the
remnant of mine age
⁷⁴

Should have been cherished by her child-like duty,

I now am full resolved to take a wife

And turn her out to
who
⁷⁷
will take her in:

Then let her beauty be her
wedding-dower,
⁷⁸

For me and my possessions she
esteems
⁷⁹
not.

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

DUKE
    There is a lady in Verona here

Whom I
affect
: but she is
nice
⁸²
and coy,

And
nought esteems my agèd eloquence.
⁸³

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
⁸⁷

To be
regarded
⁸⁸
in her sun-bright eye.

VALENTINE
    Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:

Dumb jewels often in their silent
kind
⁹⁰

More than
quick
⁹¹
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,
⁹⁴

For scorn at first makes
after-love the more.
⁹⁵

If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you,

But rather to
beget
⁹⁷
more love in you.

If she do chide, ’tis not to have you gone,

Forwhy,
⁹⁹
the fools are mad, if left alone.

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say,

For
¹⁰¹
‘get you gone’, she doth not mean ‘away!’

Flatter and praise,
commend
,
extol their graces:
¹⁰²

Though ne’er so black
¹⁰³
, say they have angels’ faces.

That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man

If
with his tongue
¹⁰⁵
he cannot win a woman.

DUKE
    But she I mean is promised by her
friends
¹⁰⁶

Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,

And kept severely from resort of men,

That
¹⁰⁹
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
¹¹³
but one may enter at her window?

DUKE
    Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,

And built so
shelving
¹¹⁵
that one cannot climb it

Without apparent hazard of his life.

VALENTINE
    Why then, a ladder
quaintly
¹¹⁷
made of cords

To cast up, with a pair of
anchoring hooks,
¹¹⁸

Would serve to scale another
Hero’s tower,
¹¹⁹

So
¹²⁰
bold Leander would adventure it.

DUKE
    Now, as thou art a gentleman of
blood,
¹²¹

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.
¹³⁰

DUKE
    A cloak as long as thine will
serve the turn?
¹³¹

VALENTINE
    Ay, my good lord.

DUKE
    Then let me see thy cloak:

I’ll get me one of
such another
¹³⁴
length.

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

DUKE
    How shall I
fashion me
¹³⁶
to wear a cloak?

I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.

What letter is
this same?
¹³⁸
What’s here? ‘To Silvia’!

And here an
engine fit for my proceeding.
¹³⁹

I’ll be so bold to break the seal for once.

‘My thoughts do
harbour
¹⁴¹
with my Silvia nightly,

And slaves they are to me that send them flying.

O, could their master come and go as
lightly,
¹⁴³

Himself
would lodge where,
senseless
, they are
lying.
¹⁴⁴

My
herald
thoughts in thy pure bosom rest
them,
¹⁴⁵

While I, their king, that
thither them importune,
¹⁴⁶

Do curse the
grace that with such grace
¹⁴⁷
hath blessed them,

Because myself do
want
my
servants
¹⁴⁸
’ fortune.

I curse myself, for they are sent by me,

That they should harbour where their lord should be.’

What’s here?

‘Silvia, this night I will
enfranchise
¹⁵²
thee.’

’Tis so: and here’s the ladder for the purpose.

Why,
Phaeton — for thou art Merops’ son
¹⁵⁴
—

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,
¹⁵⁸

Bestow thy fawning smiles on
equal mates,
¹⁵⁹

And think my patience, more than thy desert,
¹⁶⁰

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
¹⁶⁵

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.

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?
¹⁷⁶

Unless it be to think that she is by

And feed upon the
shadow
¹⁷⁸
of perfection.

Except
¹⁷⁹
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
¹⁸³

If I be not by her fair
influence
¹⁸⁴

Fostered
,
illumined
¹⁸⁵
, cherished, kept alive.

I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
¹⁸⁶

Tarry I here, I but
attend on
¹⁸⁷
death,

But fly I hence, I fly away from life.

PROTEUS
    Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

LANCE
    
So-ho
¹⁹⁰
, so-ho!

PROTEUS
    What see’st thou?

LANCE
    Him we go to find: there’s not a
hair
¹⁹²
on’s head but

’tis
a Valentine.
¹⁹³

PROTEUS
    Valentine?

VALENTINE
    No.

PROTEUS
    Who then? His
spirit?
¹⁹⁶

VALENTINE
    Neither.

PROTEUS
    What then?

VALENTINE
    Nothing.

LANCE
    Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?

PROTEUS
    Who wouldst thou strike?

LANCE
    Nothing.

PROTEUS
    
Villain
²⁰³
, forbear.

LANCE
    Why, sir,
I’ll strike nothing.
²⁰⁴
I pray you—

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

VALENTINE
    My ears are
stopped
²⁰⁶
and cannot hear good news,

So much of bad already hath possessed them.

PROTEUS
    Then in dumb silence will I bury
mine,
²⁰⁸

For they are harsh, untuneable and bad.

VALENTINE
    Is Silvia dead?

PROTEUS
    No, Valentine.

VALENTINE
    
No Valentine
²¹²
indeed, for sacred Silvia.

Hath she
forsworn
²¹³
me?

PROTEUS
    No, Valentine.

VALENTINE
    No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.

What is your news?

LANCE
    Sir, there is a proclamation that you are
vanished.
²¹⁷

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.
²²¹

Doth Silvia know that I am banishèd?

PROTEUS
    Ay, ay: and she hath offered to the
doom—
²²³

Which unreversed stands in effectual force—

A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:

Those at her father’s churlish feet she
tendered,
²²⁶

With them, upon her knees, her humble self,

Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so
became
²²⁸
them

As if but now they
waxèd
²²⁹
pale for woe.

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,

Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears

Could penetrate her uncompassionate
sire;
²³²

But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die.

Besides, her
intercession
chafed
²³⁴
him so,

When she for
thy repeal
was
suppliant,
²³⁵

That to
close
²³⁶
prison he commanded her,

With many bitter threats of
biding
²³⁷
there.

VALENTINE
    No more, unless the next word that thou speak’st

Have some
malignant
²³⁹
power upon my life:

If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear,

As ending anthem of my endless dolour.
²⁴¹

PROTEUS
    Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,

And
study
²⁴³
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
²⁴⁶
thy life.

Hope is a lover’s staff: walk hence with that

And
manage
²⁴⁸
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.
²⁵¹

The time now serves not to
expostulate:
²⁵²

Come, I’ll convey thee through the city-gate,

And ere I part with thee,
confer at large
²⁵⁴

Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.

As thou lov’st Silvia,
though not for thyself,
²⁵⁶

Regard
²⁵⁷
thy danger, and along with me.

VALENTINE
    I pray thee, Lance, an if thou see’st
my boy,
²⁵⁸

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!