Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. PROTEUS My duty will I boast of; nothing else. SILVIA And duty never yet did want his meed:
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. PROTEUS I'll die on him that says so but yourself. SILVIA That you are welcome? PROTEUS That you are worthless.
Re-enter THURIO THURIO Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. SILVIA I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
When you have done, we look to hear from you. PROTEUS We'll both attend upon your ladyship.
Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO VALENTINE Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? PROTEUS Your friends are well and have them much commended. VALENTINE And how do yours? PROTEUS I left them all in health. VALENTINE How does your lady? and how thrives your love? PROTEUS My tales of love were wont to weary you;
I know you joy not in a love discourse. VALENTINE Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning Love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs;
For in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no woe to his correction, Nor to his service no such joy on earth.
Now no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love. PROTEUS Enough; I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this the idol that you worship so? VALENTINE Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? PROTEUS No; but she is an earthly paragon. VALENTINE Call her divine. PROTEUS I will not flatter her. VALENTINE O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. PROTEUS When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you. VALENTINE Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. PROTEUS Except my mistress. VALENTINE Sweet, except not any;
Except thou wilt except against my love. PROTEUS Have I not reason to prefer mine own? VALENTINE And I will help thee to prefer her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour--To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower And make rough winter everlastingly. PROTEUS Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? VALENTINE Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone. PROTEUS Then let her alone. VALENTINE Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, Because thou see'st me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along, and I must after, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. PROTEUS But she loves you? VALENTINE Ay, and we are betroth'd: nay, more, our, marriage-hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determined of; how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords, and all the means Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. PROTEUS Go on before; I shall inquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use, And then I'll presently attend you. VALENTINE Will you make haste? PROTEUS I will.
Exit VALENTINE Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine, or Valentine's praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me reasonless to reason thus?
She is fair; and so is Julia that I love--That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire, Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was wont.
O, but I love his lady too too much, And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice, That thus without advice begin to love her!
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections, There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can cheque my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.