I will not; for it boots thee not.
Pro.
What?
Val.
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 happ’ly won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labor won;
However—but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
Pro.
So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
Val.
So, by your circumstance, I fear you’ll prove.
Pro.
’Tis love you cavil at, I am not Love.
Val.
Love is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
Pro.
Yet writers say: as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
Val.
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 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.
Pro.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
Val.
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.
Pro.
All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.
Val.
As much to you at home; and so farewell.
Exit.
Pro.
He after honor hunts, I after love:
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more;
I [leave] myself, my friends, and all, for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphis’d me,
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
[Enter] Speed.
Speed.
Sir Proteus! ’save you! Saw you my master?
Pro.
But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.
Speed.
Twenty to one then he is shipp’d already,
And I have play’d the sheep in losing him.
Pro.
Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
And if the shepherd be awhile away.
Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and I [a] sheep?
Pro. I do.
Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
Speed. This proves me still a sheep.
Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd.
Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
Pro. It shall go hard but I’ll prove it by another.
Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore I am no sheep.
Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.
Speed. Such another proof will make me cry “baa.”
Pro. But dost thou hear? gav’st thou my letter to Julia?
Speed. Ay, sir; I (a lost mutton) gave your letter to her (a lac’d mutton), and she (a lac’d mutton) gave me (a lost mutton) nothing for my labor.
Pro. Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
Speed. If the ground be overcharg’d, you were best stick her.
Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; ’twere best pound you.
