PERSONS REPRESENTED. Duke of MILAN, Father to Silvia. ANTONIO, Father to Proteus. THURIO, a foolish Rival to Valentine. LAUNCE, Servant to Proteus. PANTHINO, Servant to Antonio. Host, where Julia lodges in Milan. JULIA, a Lady of Verona, beloved by Proteus. SILVIA, the Duke's Daughter, beloved by Valentine. LUCETTA, Waiting-Woman to Julia. Servants, Musicians. SCENE, sometimes in VERONA ; sometimes in MILAN and on the Frontiers of Mantua. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. ACT I. SCENE I.—An open Place in Verona. Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Valentine. CEASE to persuade, my loving Proteus; Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu ! Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy dan ger, If ever danger do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That's on some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love; For he was more than over shoes in love. Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots. 1 Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not. Pro. Val. What? 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; Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. 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. 1 A humorous punishment at harvest-home feasts, &c. 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 Once more adieu: my father at the road, Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. At Milan let me hear from thee by letters, Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love. Enter SPEED. Speed. Sir Proteus, save you: Saw you my master? |