Valentine.
Cease to persuade, my loving Protheus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits;
Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,

I rather would intreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad;
Than (living dully sluggardiz'd at home)

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.^{2 note}
But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein;
Ev'n as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro.
Wilt thou be gone? sweet Valentine, adieu;
Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel.
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy Grievance to my holy prayer;
For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.

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 swom the Hellespont.

Pro.
Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.^{3 note}

Val.
No, 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 haply won, perhaps, an hapless gain:
If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
^{4 note}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 yoaked 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 Protheus, no: now let us take our leave.
At 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, farewel! [Exit.

Pro.
He after honour 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 metamorphos'd me;
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,

War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
Made wit with musing weak,^{5 note} heart sick with thought. 6 ^note