SILVIA. And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. PROTEUS. I’ll die on him that says so but yourself. SILVIA. That you are welcome? PROTEUS. That you are worthless. Enter Servant. SERVANT. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. SILVIA. I wait upon his pleasure. [_Exit Servant._] Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me.—Once more, new servant, welcome. I’ll leave you to confer of home affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. PROTEUS. We’ll both attend upon your ladyship. [_Exeunt Silvia and Thurio._] VALENTINE. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? PROTEUS. Your friends are well and have them much commended. VALENTINE. And how do yours? PROTEUS. I left them all in health. VALENTINE. How does your lady? And how thrives your love? PROTEUS. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know you joy not in a love-discourse. VALENTINE. Ay, Proteus, but that life is altered now. I have done penance for contemning Love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punished 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 chased 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. PROTEUS. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so? VALENTINE. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? PROTEUS. No, but she is an earthly paragon. VALENTINE. Call her divine. PROTEUS. I will not flatter her. VALENTINE. O, flatter me, for love delights in praises. PROTEUS. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills, And I must minister the like to you. VALENTINE. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. PROTEUS. Except my mistress. VALENTINE. Sweet, except not any, Except thou wilt except against my love. PROTEUS. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? VALENTINE. 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 flower And make rough winter everlastingly. PROTEUS. Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this? VALENTINE. Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; She is alone. PROTEUS. Then let her alone.