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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 chas'd 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 flow'r |
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 seest 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, |
Determin'd 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 enquire 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 my mind, or Valentinus' 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 check my erring love, I will; |
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. Exit |
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