DUKE  No, i’faith. 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.        (3.1.68-79)

No, i’faith, says the Duke, no indeed, I can’t persuade my daughter (STILL unnamed in this scene, by any of the men who purport to care about her) to marry Thurio. She’s having none of it; she is peevish, sullen, froward, sulky and contrary—and proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty. She won’t do as she’s told! She won’t take my orders! She is neither regarding that she is my child, and letting me call the shots, make decisions on her behalf, or fearing me as if I were her father; she doesn’t seem to be afraid of me, as she should properly be. She’s unnatural, is what’s being implied here, going against the natural order of things in terms of the hierarchies of family and of gender. (A glance back at Taming of the Shrew, certainly, but also, just, forward to Lear.) There has, of course, been little evidence of this kind of behaviour from Silvia. The Duke is partly testing Valentine: is this the sort of woman you want?

And then the Duke springs his trap. All things considered, he says, may I say to thee (taking you into my confidence, friend, man to man), this pride of hers upon advice hath drawn my love from her. I don’t feel I can rely on her anymore; I don’t care about her in the way I used to. I’ve given it considerable thought, and I’ve come to a decision: where I thought the remnant of mine age should have been cherished by her childlike duty—I thought I’d be able to rely on her to look after me in my old age, that she’d care for me in retirement, as she should, as a properly dutiful daughter—I don’t think that’s going to work any longer. Non-starter. Plan B: I now am full resolved to take a wife (implicitly a young one, who obviously will look after me and and obey me in all things and think I’m simply marvellous) and turn her, Silvia, out to who will take her in. She can fend for herself, go to anyone who’ll give her house-room. It’s cynical, and somewhat depressing in the assumptions it performs about marriage, family, and women, whether the Duke’s being genuine or not. Then let her beauty be her wedding dower, for me and my possessions she esteems not. Her face is her fortune, and it’s all she’s getting; if she doesn’t care about me, then I’m not going put myself out for her. I’m not going to be made a fool of. It’s also testing Valentine again: will he still take Silvia even if she’s explicitly cast out, rejected, cut off without a penny?