seech you,

my father.

Val. Your folly.

Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth ;
Thu. And how quote you my folls?

Silvia, I speak to you: and you, sir Thurio :
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

For Valentine. I need not 'cite him to it :
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit DUKE.
Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.

Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship,
Tu. How ?

Had come along with me, hut that his mistress
Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
colour?

Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Val. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind of Upon some other pawn for fealty.
cameleon.

Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners
Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood,

still.
than live in your air.

Si. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being
Val. You have said, sir.

blind,
Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. How could he see his way to seek out you?

Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
you begin.

Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all.
Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself ;
quickly shot off.

Upon a homely object love can wink.
Vol. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.

Enter PROTEUS.
Sil. Who is that, servant ?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire: SU. Have done, have done; here comes the gen-
sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s

tleman.
looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! - Mistress, I be-
company.

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
shall make your wit bankrupt.

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
Val. I know it well, sir : you have an exchequer If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.
of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give Val. Mistress, it is : sweet lady, entertain him
your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
that they live by your bare words.

Sü. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant

To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Val. Leave off discourse of disability : -
Enter DUKE.

Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health :

Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed;
What say you to a letter from your friends

Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
Of much good news ?

Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Val.
My lord, I will be thankful

Sil. That you are welcome ?
To any happy messenger from thence.

Pro.

No; that you are worthless.
Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country-
man?

Enter Servant.
Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.

Si. I'll wait upon his pleasure. (Exit Servant.
Duke. Hath he not a son ?

Come, sir Thurio,
Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves Go with me:- - Once more, new servant, welcome:
The honour and regard of such a father.

I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
Duke. You know him well ?

When

you have done, we look to hear from you. Pal. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. We have convers’d, and spent our hours together :

[Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.
And though myself have been an idle truant,

Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you
Omitting the sweet benefit of time,

came?
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much
Yet hath sir Proteus, for that's his name,

commended.
Made use and fair advantage of his days;

Val. And how do yours?
His years but young, but his experience old;

Pro.

I left them all in health.
His head unmellow'd, but his judgement ripe ; Val. How does your lady ? and how thrives your
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth

love?
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you;
He is complete in feature, and in mind,

I know, you joy not in a love-discourse.
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now :
Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good, I have done penance for contemning love ;
lle is as worthy for an empress' love,

Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.

With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,

With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
With cornmendation from great potentates; For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
And here he means to spend his time a-while: Love hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. | O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord ;

with you.

a

a

:

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,

Bears no impression of the thing it was. There is no woe to his correction,

Methinks, my zeol to Vilentine is cold; Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!

And that I love him not, as I was wont : Now, no discourse, except it be of love ;

O! but I love his lady too, too much; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, And that's the reason I love him so little. Upon the very naked name of love.

How shall I dote on her with more advice, Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye: That thus without advice begin to love her? Was this the idol that you worship so?

'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? And that hath dazzled my reason's light; Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon.

But when I look on her perfections, Val. Call her divine.

There is no reason but I shall be blind. Pro.

I will not flatter her. If I can check my erring love, I will ; Yal. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. (Eru.

Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills;
And I must minister the like to you.

SCENE V. The same. A Street.
Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,

Enter Speed and LAUNCE.
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.

Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome tu Pro. Except my mistress.

Milan.
Val.
Sweet, except not any;

Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I Except thou wilt except against my love.

am not welcome. I reckon this always — that a Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never

Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid. She shall be dignified with this high honour, and the hostess say, welcome. To bear iny lady's train; lest the base earth

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, house with you presently ; where, for one shot of And, of so great a favour growing proud,

five-pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam And make rough winter everlastingly.

Julia ?
Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Laun. Marry, after they closed in carnest, they

Val. Pardon me, Proteus : all I can, is nothing parted very fairly in jest.
To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; Speed. But shall she marry him?
She is alone.

Laun. No.
Pro. Then let her alone.

Speed. How then ? shall he marry her ? Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is mine Laun. No, neither. own;

Speed. What, are they broken? Ind I as rich in having such a je wel,

Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

them? Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,

Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with Because thou seest me dote upon my love.

him, it stands well with her. My foolish rival, that her father likes,

Speed. What an ass art thou? I understand thee Only for luis possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along; and I must after,

Laun. What a block art thou, that thou can'st finor love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

not ? My statt understands me. Pro. But she loves you?

Speed. What thou say'st ? Val.

Ay, we are betroth'd : Laun. Ay, and what I do, too: look thee, I'll Nay, more, our marriage hour,

but lean, and my staff understands me. With all the cunning manner of our flight,

Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Determin’d of: how I must climb her window ; Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one The ladder made of cords; and all the means

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ? Plotted; and 'greed on, for my happiness.

Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay, it will; if he Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,

say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

it will. Pro. Go on before; I shall enquire you forth : Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. I must unto the road, to disembark

Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from Some necessaries that I needs must use;

me, but by a parable, And then I'll presently attend you.

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, Val. Will you make haste ?

how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable Pro. I will,

[Erit Val.

lover? Even as one heat another heat expels,

Laun. I never knew him otherwise. Or as one nail by strength drives out another,

Speed. Than how ? So the remembrance of my former love

Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine oye, or Valentinus' praise,

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me. Her true perfection, or my false transgression, Laun. Why fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy That makes me reasonless, to reason thus? She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love ;

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover, That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;

Laur. Why, I tell thee, I care not though te Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,

burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me :

:

not.

to be.

master.

the ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Much less shall she, that hathi love's wings, to fly; jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.

And when the flight is made to one so dear, Speed. Why?

Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in Luc. Better forbear, tiil Proteus make return. thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian : Wilt Jul. O, know'si thou not, his looks are my soul's thou go?

food? Speed. At thy service.

[Exeunt. Pity the dearth that I have pined in,

By longing for that food so long a time. SCENE VI.

The same.

An Apartment in the Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Falace.

Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,

As seek to quench the fire of love with words. Enter PROTEUS.

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn;

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it And even that power, which gave me first my oath,

burns; Provokes me to this threefold perjury.

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear: Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; O sweet-suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd, But, when his fair course is not hindered, Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones, At first I did adore a twinkling star,

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge But now I worship a celestial sun.

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken;

And so by many winding nooks he strays, And he wants wit, that wants resolved will

With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. Then let me go, and hinder not my course :
Fre, fye, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd And make a pastime of each weary step,
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. Till the last step have brought me to my love;
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do;

And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,
But there I leave to love, where I should love. A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :

Luc. But in what habit will you go along ? If I kep them, I needs must lose myself;

Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,

The loose encounters of lascivious men: For Valentine, myself: for Julia, Silvia.

Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds I to myself am dearer than a friend :

As may beseem some well-reputed page. For love is still more precious in itself:

Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your hair And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings, Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : I will forget that Julia is alive,

To be fantastic, may become a youth Rememb’ring that my love to her is dead;

Of greater time than I shall show to be. And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

breeches? I cannot now prove constant to myself,

Jul. That fits as well, as - “tell me, good my lord, Without some treachery used to Valentine : “ What compass will you wear your farthingale?” This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder, Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window;

Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece. Myself in counsel, his competitor :

madam. Now presently I'll give her father notice

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Of their disguising, and pretended flight;

Luc. A round hose, madam, nov's not worth a pin, Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine ;

Unless you have a coul-piece to stick pins on. For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter : Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly: By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. Bui tell me, wench, how will the world repute me, Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, For undertaking so unstaid a journey? As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! (Erit. I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not SCENE VII. - Verona. A Room in Julia's Jul. Nay, that I will not. House.

Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.

If Proteus like your journey, when you come, Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.

No matter who's displeas’d, when you are gone : Jul. Counsel, Lucetta! gentle girl, assist me! | I fear me, he will scarce be pleas’d withal. And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear : Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,

And instances as infinite of love,
To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
How, with my honour, I may undertake

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. A journey to my loving Proteus.

Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effec!' Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps ; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ;

a

liis tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; And presently go with nie to my chamber, His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. To take a note of what I stand in need of, Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come To furnish me upon my longing journey. to him!

All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that My goods, my lands, my reputation ; wrong,

Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence : To bear a hard opinion of his truth :

Come, answer not, but to it presently; Only deserve my love, by loving him ;

I am in patient of my tarriance.

(Exeunte

ACT III.

SCENE I. Milan. An Artc-room in the Duke's

Enter VALENTINE.
Palace.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ?
Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus.

Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile ; That stays to bear my letters to my friends, We have some secrets to confer about.

And I am going to deliver them.

(Erit Thurio. Duke. Be they of much import? Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Val. The tenor of them doth but signify

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, My health, and happy being at your court. The law of friendship bids me to conceal :

Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while; But, when I call to mind your gracious favours I am to break with thee of some affairs. Done to me, undeserving as I am,

That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. My duty prieks me on to utter that

'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought Which else no worldly good should draw from me. To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend, Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match This night intends to steal away your daughter; Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman Myself am one made privy to the plot.

Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities I know, you have determin’d to bestow her Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? And should she thus be stolen away from you, Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, It would be much vexation to your age.

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose

Neither regarding that she is my child, To cross my friend in his intended drift,

Nor fearing me as if I were her father :
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
Which to requite, command me while I live. I now am full resolved to take a wife,
This love of theirs myself have often seen,

And turn her out to who will take her in : Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep; Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; And oftentimes have purpos’d to forbid

For me and my possessions she esteems not. Sir Valentine her company, and my court :

Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,

Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d,)

And nought esteems my aged eloquence : I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find

Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. (For long agone I have forgot to court : And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, How, and which way, I may bestow myself, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,

To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. The key whereof myself have ever kept;

Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words, And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. How he her chamber-window will ascend,

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. And with a corded ladder fetch her down;

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best conFor which the youthful lover now is gone,

tents her: And this way comes he with it presently ;

Send her another; never give her o'er; Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. For scorn at first makes after-love the more. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,

If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, That my discovery be not aimed at ;

But rather to beget more love in you : For love of you, not hate unto my friend,

If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know Take no repulse, whatever she doth say: That I had any light from thee of this.

For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away: Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine is coming. Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ;

[Erit. Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels' faces

a

turn.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends

[Erit Duke. Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ;

Val. And why not death, rather than living torAnd kept severely from resort of men,

ment? That no man hath access by day to her.

To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. And Silvia is myself : danish'd from her,
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
safe,

What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
That no man hath recourse to her by night.

What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? Unless it be to think that she is by,

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Except I be by Silvia in the night,
Without apparent hazard of his life.

There is no musick in the nightingale ;
Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,

There is no day for me to look upon :
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,

She is my essence; and I leave to be,
So bold Leander would adventure it.

If I be not by her fair influence
Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Foster’d, illumin’d, cherish’d, kept aliv:
Advise me where I may have such a ladder. I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom :
Val. When would you use it ? pray, sir, tell me Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
that.

But, Ay I hence, I fly away from life.
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child,

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.
That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Pru. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; Laun. So-ho! so-ho! How shall I best convey the ladder thither ?

Pro. What seest thou ? Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Laun. Him we go to find : there's not a hair on's Under a cloak, that is of any length.

head, but 'tis a Valentine.
Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.
Val. Ay, my good lord.

Pro. Who then? his spirit ?
Duke. Then let me see thy cloak :

Val. Neither.
I'll get me one of such another length.

Pro. What then? Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my Val. Nothing. lord.

Laun. Can nothing speak ? master, shall I strike?
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? Pro. Whom would'st thou strike?
I
pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. —

Laun. Nothing
What letter is this same? What's here? - T. Silvia ? Pro. Villain, forbear.
And here an engine fit for my proceeding !

Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing : I pray you, I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a Jly thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ;

word. And slaves they are to me, that send them flying : Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good U, could their master come and go as lightly,

news, Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. So much of bad already hath possess'd them. Bly herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them; Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,

While I, their king, that thither them impórtune, For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd Val. Is Silvia dead ?
them,

Pro. No, Valentine.
Because myself do want my servants' fortune : Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,

Hath she forsworn me? That they should harbour where their lord should be. Pro. No, Valentine. What's here?

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me! Süvia, this night I will enfranchise thee :

What is your news? 'Tis so ; and here's the ladder for the purpose. Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are Why, Phaëton, (for thou art Merops' son,)

vanish'd. Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,

Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news;
And with thy daring folly burn the world ? From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
Go, base intruder! over-weening slave !

And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ;

Doth Silvia know that I am banished ?
And think, my patience, more than thy desert, Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
Is privilege for thy departure hence :

(Which, unrevers’d, stands in effectual force,)
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears :
Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
But if thou linger in my territories,

With them, upon her knees, her humble self; longer than swiftest expedition

Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became Wil give thee time to leave our royal court,

them,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,

;