William Shakespeare

The Two Gentlemen of Verona William Shakespeare

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUSVALENTINECease 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 sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein, Even as I would when I to love begin. PROTEUSWilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu! Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: Wish me partaker in thy happiness When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger, If ever danger do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. VALENTINEAnd on a love-book pray for my success?PROTEUSUpon some book I love I'll pray for thee. VALENTINEThat's on some shallow story of deep love: How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. PROTEUSThat's a deep story of a deeper love: For he was more than over shoes in love. VALENTINE'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swum the Hellespont. PROTEUSOver the boots? nay, give me not the boots. VALENTINENo, I will not, for it boots thee not. PROTEUSWhat?VALENTINETo 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. PROTEUSSo, by your circumstance, you call me fool. VALENTINESo, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove. PROTEUS'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love. VALENTINELove is your master, for he masters you: And he that is so yoked by a fool, Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. PROTEUSYet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. VALENTINEAnd 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 thee, That art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu! my father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. PROTEUSAnd thither will I bring thee, Valentine. VALENTINESweet 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 likewise will visit thee with mine.