Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro ward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con tents her. Send her another; never give her o'er; Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. 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 Without apparent hazard of his life. Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, 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. 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. Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? Val. Ay, my good lord. (1) Hinders. Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro ward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con tents her. Send her another; never give her o'er; Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her win dow? Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, 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. 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. Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? Val. Ay, my good lord. (1) Hinders. Duke. Then let me see thy cloak: I'll get me one of such another length. lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?-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; 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, 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 should be. What's here? Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee : 'Tis so: and here's the ladder for the purpose.- Will give thee time to leave our royal court, |