Cease to persuade , my loving Proteus : Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits . Were't not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour 'd love , I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad , Than , living dully sluggardiz 'd at home , Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness . But since thou lov'st , love still , and thrive therein , Even as I would , when I to love begin . And on a love-book pray for my success ? That 's on some shallow story of deep love : How young Leander cross 'd the Hellespont . ‘ Tis true ; for you are over boots in love , And yet you never swum the Hellespont . No , I will not , for it boots thee not . To be in love - where scorn is bought with groans , Coy looks with heart-sore sighs , one fading moment 's mirth With twenty watchful , weary , tedious nights ; If haply won , perhaps a hapless gain ; If lost , why then a grievous labour won ; However , but a folly bought with wit , Or else a wit by folly vanquished . So , by your circumstance , I fear you 'll prove . Love is your master , for he masters you ; And he that is so yoked by a fool , Methinks , should not be chronicled for wise . And writers say , as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow , Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn 'd to folly , blasting in the bud , Losing his verdure even in the prime , And all the fair effects of future hopes . But wherefore waste I time to counsel the That art a votary to fond desire ? Once more adieu . My father at the road Expects my coming , there to see me shipp 'd . Sweet Proteus , no ; now let us take our leave . To Milan let me hear from thee by letters Of thy success in love , and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend ; And I likewise will visit thee with mine . As much to you at home ; and so farewell ! Not mine : my gloves are on . Ha ! let me see ; ay , give it me , it 's mine ; Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine ! Ah , Silvia ! Silvia ! How now , sirrah ? Why , sir , who bade you call her ? Well , you 'll still be too forward . Go to , sir ; tell me , do you know Madam Silvia ? Why , how know you that I am in love ? Are all these things perceiv 'd in me ? Without me ? They cannot . But tell me , dost thou know my lady Silvia ? Hast thou observ 'd that ? Even she , I mean . Dost thou know her by my gazing on her , and yet know'st her not ? Not so fair , boy , as well-favour 'd . What dost thou know ? I mean that her beauty is exquisite , but her favour infinite . How painted ? and how out of count ? How esteem'st thou me ? I account of her beauty . How long hath she been deform 'd ? I have lov 'd her ever since I saw her , and still I see her beautiful . Why ? What should I see then ? Belike , boy , then you are in love ; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes . In conclusion , I stand affected to her . Last night she enjoin 'd me to write some lines to one she loves . I have . No , boy , but as well as I can do them . Enter SILVIA Peace ! here she comes . Madam and mistress , a thousand good morrows . As you enjoin 'd me , I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in , But for my duty to your ladyship . Now trust me , madam , it came hardly off ; For , being ignorant to whom it goes , I writ at random , very doubtfully . No , madam ; so it stead you , I will write , Please you command , a thousand times as much ; And yet- What means your ladyship ? Do you not like it ? Madam , they are for you . Please you , I 'll write your ladyship another . If it please me , madam , what then ? How now , sir ! What are you reasoning with yourself ? To do what ? To whom ? What figure ? Why , she hath not writ to me . No , believe me . She gave me none except an angry word . That 's the letter I writ to her friend . I would it were no worse . I have din 'd . Mistress ? Ay , boy , it 's for love . Of my mistress , then . Indeed , madam , I seem so . Haply I do . So do you . Wise . Your folly . I quote it in your jerkin . Well , then , I 'll double your folly . Give him leave , madam ; he is a kind of chameleon . You have said , sir . I know it well , sir ; you always end ere you begin . ‘ Tis indeed , madam ; we thank the giver . Yourself , sweet lady ; for you gave the fire . Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship 's looks , and spends what he borrows kindly in your company . I know it well , sir ; you have an exchequer of words , and , I think , no other treasure to give your followers ; for it appears by their bare liveries that they live by your bare words . My lord , I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence . Ay , my good lord , I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation , And not without desert so well reputed . Ay , my good lord ; a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father . I knew him as myself ; for from our infancy We have convers 'd and spent our hours together ; And though myself have been an idle truant , Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection , Yet hath Sir Proteus , for that 's his name , Made use and fair advantage of his days : His years but young , but his experience old ; His head unmellowed , but his judgment ripe ; And , in a word , for far behind his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow , He is complete in feature and in mind , With all good grace to grace a gentleman . Should I have wish 'd a thing , it had been he . This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me but that his mistresss Did hold his eyes lock 'd in her crystal looks . Nay , sure , I think she holds them prisoners still . Why , lady , Love hath twenty pair of eyes . To see such lovers , Thurio , as yourself ; Upon a homely object Love can wink . Exit THURIO Welcome , dear Proteus ! Mistress , I beseech you Confirm his welcome with some special favour . Mistress , it is ; sweet lady , entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship . Leave off discourse of disability ; Sweet lady , entertain him for your servant . Now , tell me , how do all from whence you came ? And how do yours ? How does your lady , and how thrives your love ? 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 . Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint ? Call her divine . O , flatter me ; for love delights in praises ! Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine , Yet let her be a principality , Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth . Sweet , except not any ; Except thou wilt except against my love . 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 . Pardon me , Proteus ; all I can is nothing To her , whose worth makes other worthies nothing ; She is alone . 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 . 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 . Will you make haste ? Please it your Grace , there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends , And I am going to deliver them . The tenour of them doth but signify My health and happy being at your court . I know it well , my lord ; and , sure , the match Were rich and honourable ; besides , the gentleman Is full of virtue , bounty , worth , and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter . Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? What would your Grace have me to do in this ? Win her with gifts , if she respect not words : Dumb jewels often in their silent kind More than quick words do move a woman 's mind . A woman sometime 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 . Why then I would resort to her by night . What lets but one may enter at her window ? Why then a ladder , quaintly made of cords , To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks , Would serve to scale another Hero 's tow'r , So bold Leander would adventure it . When would you use it ? Pray , sir , tell me that . By seven o'clock I 'll get you such a ladder . It will be light , my lord , that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length . Ay , my good lord . Why , any cloak will serve the turn , my lord . 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 music 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 : Tarry I here , I but attend on death ; But fly I hence , I fly away from life . No . Neither . Nothing . My ears are stopp 'd and cannot hear good news , So much of bad already hath possess 'd them . Is Silvia dead ? No Valentine , indeed , for sacred Silvia . Hath she forsworn me ? No Valentine , if Silvia have forsworn me . What is your news ? O , I have fed upon this woe already , And now excess of it will make me surfeit . Doth Silvia know that I am banished ? No more ; unless the next word that thou speak'st Have some malignant power upon my life : If so , I pray thee breathe it in mine ear , As ending anthem of my endless dolour . I pray thee , Launce , an if thou seest my boy , Bid him make haste and meet me at the Northgate . O my dear Silvia ! Hapless Valentine ! My friends- Then know that I have little wealth to lose ; A man I am cross 'd with adversity ; My riches are these poor habiliments , Of which if you should here disfurnish me , You take the sum and substance that I have . To Verona . From Milan . Some sixteen months , and longer might have stay 'd , If crooked fortune had not thwarted me . I was . For that which now torments me to rehearse : I kill 'd a man , whose death I much repent ; But yet I slew him manfully in fight , Without false vantage or base treachery . I was , and held me glad of such a doom . My youthful travel therein made me happy , Or else I often had been miserable . Peace , villain ! Nothing but my fortune . I take your offer , and will live with you , Provided that you do no outrages On silly women or poor passengers . How use doth breed a habit in a man ! This shadowy desert , unfrequented woods , I better brook than flourishing peopled towns . Here can I sit alone , unseen of any , And to the nightingale 's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes . O thou that dost inhabit in my breast , Leave not the mansion so long tenantless , Lest , growing ruinous , the building fall And leave no memory of what it was ! Repair me with thy presence , Silvia : Thou gentle nymph , cherish thy forlorn swain . What halloing and what stir is this to-day ? These are my mates , that make their wills their law , Have some unhappy passenger in chase . They love me well ; yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages . Withdraw thee , Valentine . Who 's this comes here ? How like a dream is this I see and hear ! Love , lend me patience to forbear awhile . Ruffian ! let go that rude uncivil touch ; Thou friend of an ill fashion ! Thou common friend , that 's without faith or love- For such is a friend now ; treacherous man , Thou hast beguil 'd my hopes ; nought but mine eye Could have persuaded me . Now I dare not say I have one friend alive : thou wouldst disprove me . Who should be trusted , when one 's own right hand Is perjured to the bosom ? Proteus , I am sorry I must never trust thee more , But count the world a stranger for thy sake . The private wound is deepest . O time most accurst ! ‘ Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst ! Then I am paid ; And once again I do receive thee honest . Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth , for these are pleas 'd ; By penitence th ’ Eternal 's wrath 's appeas 'd . And , that my love may appear plain and free , All that was mine in Silvia I give thee . Why , boy ! why , wag ! how now ! What 's the matter ? Look up ; speak . Come , come , a hand from either . Let me be blest to make this happy close ; ‘ Twere pity two such friends should be long foes . Forbear , forbear , I say ; it is my lord the Duke . Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac 'd , Banished Valentine . Thurio , give back , or else embrace thy death ; Come not within the measure of my wrath ; Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again , Verona shall not hold thee . Here she stands Take but possession of her with a touch- I dare thee but to breathe upon my love . I thank your Grace ; the gift hath made me happy . I now beseech you , for your daughter 's sake , To grant one boon that I shall ask of you . These banish 'd men , that I have kept withal , Are men endu 'd with worthy qualities ; Forgive them what they have committed here , And let them be recall 'd from their exile : They are reformed , civil , full of good , And fit for great employment , worthy lord . And , as we walk along , I dare be bold With our discourse to make your Grace to smile . What think you of this page , my lord ? I warrant you , my lord - more grace than boy . Please you , I 'll tell you as we pass along , That you will wonder what hath fortuned . Come , Proteus , ‘ tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered . That done , our day of marriage shall be yours ; One feast , one house , one mutual happiness ! Exeunt