ANTONIO. My will is something sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed, For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the Emperor’s court. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. Tomorrow be in readiness to go. Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. PROTEUS. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; Please you deliberate a day or two. ANTONIO. Look what thou want’st shall be sent after thee. No more of stay. Tomorrow thou must go. Come on, Pantino, you shall be employed To hasten on his expedition. [_Exeunt Antonio and Pantino._] PROTEUS. Thus have I shunned the fire for fear of burning And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned. I feared to show my father Julia’s letter Lest he should take exceptions to my love, And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love. O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by an by a cloud takes all away. Enter Pantino. PANTINO. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you. He is in haste. Therefore, I pray you, go. PROTEUS. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers “No”. [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. Milan. A room in the Duke’s palace Enter Valentine and Speed. SPEED. Sir, your glove. VALENTINE. Not mine. My gloves are on. SPEED. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one. VALENTINE. Ha? Let me see. Ay, give it me, it’s mine. Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia! SPEED. [_Calling_.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! VALENTINE. How now, sirrah? SPEED. She is not within hearing, sir. VALENTINE. Why, sir, who bade you call her? SPEED. Your worship, sir, or else I mistook. VALENTINE. Well, you’ll still be too forward. SPEED. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. VALENTINE. Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? SPEED. She that your worship loves? VALENTINE. Why, how know you that I am in love? SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money. And now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. VALENTINE. Are all these things perceived in me? SPEED. They are all perceived without ye. VALENTINE. Without me? They cannot.