For long agone I have forgot to court,
Besides, the fashion of the time is changed—
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
VALENTINE
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.
VALENTINE
A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.
Send her another. Never give her o’er,
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
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,
Forwhy the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say:
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.
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.
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 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.
VALENTINE
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.
DUKE
Now as thou art a gentleman of blood,
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.
DUKE
A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?
VALENTINE
Ay, my good lord.
DUKE
Then let me see thy cloak,
I’ll get me one of such another length.
VALENTINE
Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
DUKE
How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
I pray thee let me feel thy cloak upon me.
He lifts Valentine’s cloak and finds a letter and a rope-ladder
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 blessed
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.
Why, Phaeton, for thou art Merops’ son
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, over-weening slave,
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy desert,
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
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.
Exit
VALENTINE
And why not death, rather than living torment?
To die is to be banished from myself,
And Silvia is my self. 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—
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
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
Fostered, illumined, cherished, kept alive.
I fly not death to fly his deadly doom.
Tarry I here I but attend on death,
But fly I hence, I fly away from life.
Enter Proteus and Lance
PROTEUS Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
LANCE So-ho, so-ho!
PROTEUS What seest thou?
LANCE Him we go to find. There’s not a hair on’s head but ‘tis a Valentine.