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 judg’d me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purpos’d 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),
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos’d 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 tow’r,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey’d away.
Pro.
Know, noble lord, they have devis’d 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:
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretense.
Duke.
Upon mine honor, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro.
Adieu, my lord, Sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.]
[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?
Val.
The tenure of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.
Duke.
Nay then no matter; stay with me a while;
I am to break with thee of some affairs
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
’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 honorable; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
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,
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,
I now am full resolv’d to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dow’r,
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val.
What would your Grace have me to do in this?
Duke.
There is a lady in [Milano] 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;
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang’d)
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
More than quick words do move a woman’s mind.
Duke.
But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
Val.
A
