PROTEUS. Know, noble lord, they have devised 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 pretence. DUKE. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. PROTEUS. Adieu, my lord, Sir Valentine is coming. [_Exit._] Enter Valentine. DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? VALENTINE. 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? VALENTINE. The tenor of them doth but signify My health and happy being at your court. DUKE. Nay then, no matter. Stay with me awhile; 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. VALENTINE. I know it well, my lord, and sure the match Were rich and honourable. 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 cherished by her childlike duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife And turn her out to who will take her in. Then let her beauty be her wedding dower, For me and my possessions she esteems not. VALENTINE. What would your Grace have me to do in this? DUKE. There is a lady of Verona 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 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.