What compass will you wear your Farthingale?
Why, even what Fashion thou beft likes, Lucetta.
Luc. You must needs have them with a Cod-piece, Madam.
Jul. Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favour'd.
Luc. A round Hofe, Madam, now's not worth a Pin,
Unless you have a Cod-piece to ftick Pins on.
Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'ft me, let me have
What thou think'ft meet, and is moft mannerly:
But tell me, Wench, how will the World repute me
For undertaking fo unftaid a Journey?
I fear me it will make me fcandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think fo, then stay at home, and go not. Jul. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then never dream on Infamy, but go.
If Protheus like your Journey when you come,
No matter who's difpleas'd when you are gone:
I fear me he will fcarce be pleas'd with all.
Jul. That is the leaft, Lucetta, of my Fear:
A thousand Oaths, an Ocean of his Tears,
And Inftances as infinite of Love,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus.
Luc. All these are Servants to deceitful Men.
Jul. Bafe Men that use them to fo bafe Effect;
But truer Stars did govern Prothens Birth;
His Words are Bonds, his Oaths are Oracles,
His Love fincere, his Thoughts immaculate,
His Tears pure Meffengers fent from his Heart,
His Heart as far from Fraud as Heav'n from Earth
Luc. Pray Heav'n he prove fo when you come to him.
Jul. Now as thou lov'ft me, do him not that Wrong,
To bear a hard Opinion of his Truth;
Only deferve my Love by loving him.
And prefently go with me to my Chamber,
To take a Note of what I ftand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing Journey:
All that is mine I leave at thy Dispose,
My Goods, my Lands, my Reputation,
Only in lieu thereof dispatch me hence.
Come, anfwer not; but to it presently :
I am impatient of my Tarriance.
Enter Duke, Thurio and Protheus.
Duke. We have some Secrets to confer about. [Ex. Thu,
IR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;
Now tell me, Protheus, what's your Will with me?
Pro. 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, undeferving as I am,
My Duty pricks me on to utter that,
Which elfe no worldly Good should draw from me.
Know, worthy Prince, Sir Valentine, my Friend,
This Night intends to fteal away your Daughter:
My felf am one made privy to the Plot.
I know you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle Daughter hates:
And should the thus be ftoll'n away from you,
It would be much Vexation to your Age.
Thus, for my Duty's fake, I rather chofe
To cross my Friend in his intended Drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your Head
A pack of Sorrows, which would prefs you down,
Being unprepared, to your timeless Grave.
Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honeft Care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This Love of theirs my felf have often feen,
Haply when they have judg'd me faft afleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her Company, and my Court:
But fearing left my jealous Aim might err,
And fo unworthily difgrace the Man,
A Rafhnefs that I ever yet have fhunn'd;
gave him gentle Looks, thereby to find
That which thy felf hath now disclos'd to me.
And that thou may'ft perceive my Fear of this;
Knowing that tender Youth is foon fuggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper Tower,
The Key whereof my self have ever kept;
And thence the cannot be convey'd away.
Pro. Know, noble Lord, they have devis'd a mean
How he her Chamber-Window will afcend,
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 fo cunningly,
That my Difcovery be not aimed 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.
Pro. Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming. [Ex. Pro.
Enter Valentine.
Duke. Sir Valentine, whether away fo faft?
Val. Pleafe 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?
Val. The Tenure of them doth but fignifie 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 Thurie, 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, fhe is peevish, fullen, froward,
Proud, difobedient, ftubborn, lacking Duty,
Neither regarding that the 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-Dowre;
For me and my Poffeffions fhe esteems not.
Val. What would your Grace have me to do in this?
Duke. There is a Lady in Verona here
Whom I affect; but fhe 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 bestow my felf,
To be regarded in her Sun-bright Eye,
Val. Win her with Gifts, if the refpects not Words; Dumb Jewels often in their filent kind,
More than quick Words, do move a Woman's Mind.
Duke. But he 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 Scorn 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 dochide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the Fools are mad if left alone.
Take no Repulfe, whatever the doth fay;
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 fhe, I mean, is promis'd by her Friends
Unto a youthful Gentleman of worth,
And kept feverely 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 lockt, and Keys kept fafe,
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 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 every 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 shall 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 fo bold to break the Seal for once.
My Thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,
And Slaves they are to me that fend them flying:
Oh, could their Mafter come, and go as lightly,
Himfelf would lodge where, fenfeless, they are lying:
My Herald Thoughts in thy pure Rofom reft them,
While I, their King, that thither them importune,
Do curfe the Grace that with fuch Grace hath bleft them,
Because my felf do want my Servants Fortune:
I curfe my felf, for they are fent by me,
That they should harbour where their Lord would be.
What's here? Silvia, this Night will I infranchife thee: 'Tis fo; and here's the Ladder for the Purpose.
Why Phaeton, for thou art Merop's Son,
Wilt thou afpire to guide the heav'nly Car?
And with thy daring Folly burn the World?
Wilt thou reach Stars, becaufe they fine on thee?
|