Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her."

So, in our author's Passionate Pilgrim:

"Spare not to spend,

"The strongest castle, tower, and town,
"The golden bullet beats it down."

A line of this stanza

"The strongest castle, tower, and town,"

and two in a succeeding stanza

"What though she strive to try her strength,
"And ban an brawl, and say thee nay,"

remind us of the following verses in The Historie of Graunde Amoure, [sign. I 2] written by Stephen Hawes, near a century before those of Shakspeare:

"Forsake her not, though that she saye nay:

"A womans guise is evermore delay.
"No Castel can be of so great a strength,
"If that there be a sure siege to it layed;
"It must yelde up, or els be won at length,
"Though that 'to-fore it hath bene long delayed;
"So continuance may you right well ayde:
"Some womans harte can not so harded be,
"But busy labour may make it agree."

Another earlier writer than Shakspeare, speaking of women, has also the same unfavourable (and, I hope, unfounded) senti.

ment:

""Tis wisdom to give much! a gift prevails,
"When deep persuasive oratory fails."

Marlowe's Hero and Leander.

Malone.

Again, in the First Part of Jeronimo, 1605, though written

much earlier:

66 let his protestations be

"Fashioned with rich jewels, for in love

"Great gifts and gold have the best tongues to move.
"Let him not spare an oath without a jewel

"To bind it fast: oh, I know womens hearts

"What stuff they are made of, my lord: gifts and giving "Will melt the chastest seeming female living."

The same rude sentiment was soon after adopted by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Woman Hater, 1607, Act IV. sc. ii:

8

66 your offers must

"Be full of bounty; velvets to furnish a gown, silks
"For petticoats and foreparts, shag for lining;
"Forget not some pretty jewel to fasten after
"Some little compliment! If she deny this courtesy,
"Double your bounties; be not wanting in abundance:
"Fulness of gifts, link'd with a pleasing tongue,
"Will win an anchorite." Reed.

that I sent her.] To produce a more accurate rhyme, we might read:

66

that I sent, Sir."

Val. A woman sometimes 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;
For why, 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 promis'd 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.

Val. Why, then, I would resort to her, by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her, by night.

9

Val. 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.

Val. 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.

Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, 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 seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.

Mr. M. Mason observes, that the rhyme, which was evidently here intended, requires that we should read-"what best content her." The word what may imply those which, as well as that which. Steevens.

9 What lets,] i. e. what hinders. So, Hamlet, Act I. sc. iv: "By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me."

Steevens.

Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; How shall 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 serve the turn? Val. Ay, my good lord.

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak;

I'll get me one of such another length.

Val. 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.

[Reads.

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.
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 impórtune, Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them, Because myself do want my servants› fortune:

I curse myself, for they are sent by me,1

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)2
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?

1 for they are sent by me,] For is the same as for that, since. Johnson.

2 Merops' son)] Thou art Phaeton in thy rashness, but without his pretensions; thou art not the son of a divinity, but a terræ filius, a low-born wretch! Merops is thy true father, with whom Phaeton was falsely reproached. Johnson.

This scrap of mythology Shakspeare might have found in the spurious play of K. John, 1591:

as sometime Phaeton

"Mistrusting silly Merops for his sire." Or, in Robert Greene Orlando Furioso, 1594:

"Why, foolish, hardy, daring, simple groom,
"Follower of fond conceited Phaeton," &c.

Steevens.

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 bestow'd 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.

Begone; I will not hear thy vain excuse;

But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[Exit DUKE.
Val. And why not death, rather than living torment?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd 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 musick 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

Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:4
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.

Pro. Run, boy; run, run, and seek him out.

3 And feed upon the shadow of perfection.]

"Animum picturâ pascit inani." Virg. Henley.

4 I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:] To fly his doom, used for by flying, or in flying, is a Gallicism. The sense is, by avoiding the execution of his sentence I shall not escape death. If I stay here, I suffer myself to be destroyed; if I go away, I destroy myself. Johnson.

Laun. So-ho! so-ho!

Pro. What seest 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 spirit?

Val. Neither.

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike?
Pro. Whom6 would'st thou strike?

Laun. Nothing.

Pro. Villain, forbear.

Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray youPro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend Valentine, a word. Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead?'

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia!Hath she forsworn me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me!What is your news?

Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are vanish'd. Pro. That thou art banished; Oh! that's the news; From hence, from Silvia, and from me, thy friend, Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already,

And now excess of it will make me surfeit.

Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom
(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears:
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;

5

- there's not a hair-] Launce is still quibbling. He is now running down the hare that he started when he entered. Malone.

Whom] Old copy-Who. Corrected in the second folio.

Malone.