The Duke of Milan had scarcely left Valentine, and the latter was still dazed by the calamity which had befallen him, when Proteus brought him word that the proclamation for his banishment had been made public. Silvia, however, was still true to him. With sobs and tears, she implored pardon for him on her knees, but her father was relentless. If Valentine were found again in his dominions he should be put to death. Moreover, he was so enraged at his daughter’s daring to plead for her young lover that he commanded she should be kept in close prison. The crafty Proteus counselled Valentine to depart at once, bidding him not to lose hope, pretending the greatest sympathy with his love affairs, and promising that if he sent letters they should be safely conveyed to Silvia. Having thus hurried Valentine away with the utmost despatch, Proteus returned to the Duke of Milan, to let him know that his orders had been obeyed. “My daughter is in great grief about his going,” said the Duke. “A little time will kill that grief, my lord.” “So I believe, but Sir Thurio here does not think so,” said the Duke, and he then went on to consult Proteus as to the best way of winning Silvia’s affections from the absent Valentine, in order that she might transfer them to Sir Thurio. It was agreed among them that the best plan would be for Proteus to speak all he could in dispraise of Valentine, while at the same time he was to speak in praise of Sir Thurio. For this purpose Proteus was to be allowed free access to Silvia, who, for his friend’s sake, would be glad to see him. Proteus agreed to this, but said that Thurio himself must do something to win the lady’s favour. He suggested that he should try to please her with poetry and music, and that he should bring musicians, and sing a serenade by night under her chamber window. Thurio said he would put the plan in practice that very night; he knew some gentlemen well skilled in music, and he had a song written that would be just suitable. As for the Duke, he was delighted with the suggestion, and bade them set to work at once to carry it into effect. * * * * * Meanwhile, in Verona, Julia was sorrowing for the absence of Proteus, and at last her longing to see him again grew so keen that she determined to follow him to Milan. Her waiting-maid, Lucetta, who had plenty of shrewd common-sense, tried to persuade her not to go, but Julia would listen to no reason. “I feel as if I were dying with starvation until I see him again,” she said. “If you only knew what it is to love anyone, you would know how utterly useless it is to try to argue about it in words.”