Duke.
Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, a while;
We have some secrets to confer about. [Exit Thur.
Now tell me, Protheus, what's your will with me?

Pro.
My gracious lord, that which I would discover,
The law of friendship bids me to conceal;
But when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that,
Which, else, no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy Prince, Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to steal away your daughter:

Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates:
And should she thus be stoll'n away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift;
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke.
Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen.
Haply, when they have judg'd me fast asleep;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court:
But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err,
And so unworthily disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd;)
I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Pro.
Know, noble lord, they have devis'd 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 discov'ry be not aimed at;^{7 note}
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.^{8 note}

Duke.
Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro.
Adieu, my lord: Sir Valentine is coming. [Exit Pro.

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