Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, Val. Win her with gifts, if the refpect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their filent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Send her another; never give her o'er; Duke. But the I mean, is promis'd by her friends Val. Why then I would refort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, 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. 5 the fashion of the time-] The modes of courtship, the acts by which men recommended themselves to ladies. JOHNSON, • What lets,] i. e. what hinders. STEEVENS. Val, Why, then a ladder, quaintly made of cords, To caft up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, Would ferve to scale another Hero's tower, So bold Leander would adventure it. Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advife me where I may have fuch a ladder. Val. When would you use it? pray, fir, 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 o'clock I'll get you fuch a ladder. Duke. But hark thee; I will go to her alone; How fhall 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 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. I'll be fo bold to break the feal for once. [Duke reads. 7 I curfe myself, for they are fent by me, That they should harbour where their lord would be. ? for they are fent by me,] For is the fame as for that, fince JOHNSON. What's 8 What's here? Silvia, this night will I enfranchife thee Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Longer than fwifteft expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excufe, But, as thou lov❜ft thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit. Val. And why not death, rather than living torment? To die, is to be banish'd from myfelf; 8 Merops' fon)] Thou art Phaeton in thy rafhness, but without his pretenfions; thou art not the son of a divinity, but a terra filius, a low born wretch; Merops is thy true father, with whom Phaeton was falfely reproached. JOHNSON. This fcrap of mythology Shakespeare might have found in the fpurious play of K. John, 1591, 1611, and 1622: as fometime Phaeton "Miftrufting filly Merops for his fire." Or in Robert Greene's Orlando Furiofo, 1594: "Why foolish, hardy, daring, fimple groom, "Follower of fond conceited Phaeton, &c." STEEvens. And And feed upon the fhadow of perfection. Fofter'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. Enter Protheus and Launce. Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Pro. What feeft thou? Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hair On's head, but 'tis a Valentine. Pro. Valentine? Val. No. Pro. Who then? his fpirit? Val. Neither. Pro. What then? Val. Nothing. Laun. Can nothing speak? mafter, fhall I ftrike? Pro. Whom would't thou ftrike? Laun. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Launc. Why, fir, I'll ftrike nothing: I pray you,Pro. Sirrah, I fay, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:] To fly his doom, ufed for by flying, or in flying, is a gallicifm. The fenfe is, By avoiding the execution of his fentence I fhall not efcape death. If I stay here, I suffer myself to be destroyed; if I go away, I destroy myfelf. JOHNSON. So So much of bad already hath poffefs'd them. Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, indeed, for facred Silvia ! Hath fhe forfworn me? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forfworn me!—. What is your news? Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banish'd, oh, that is the news, From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excefs of it will make me furfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished? Pro. Ay, ay; and the hath offer'd to the doom, (Which unrevers'd, ftands in effectual force) A fea of melting pearl, which fome call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whofe whitenefs fo became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad fighs, deep groans, nor filver-fhedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompaffionate fire; But Valentine, if he be ta'en, muft die. Befides, her interceffion chaf'd him so, When the for thy repeal was fuppliant, That to close prifon he commanded her, With many bitter threats of 'biding there. Val. No more; unless the next word, that thou Have fome malignant power upon my life: Pro. |