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  • Enter DUKE and THURIO

  • Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,
    Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

  • Since his exile she hath despised me most,
    Forsworn my company and rail'd at me,
    That I am desperate of obtaining her.

  • This weak impress of love is as a figure
    Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
    Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.
    A little time will melt her frozen thoughts
    And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
    Enter PROTEUS
    How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman
    According to our proclamation gone?

  • Gone, my good lord.

  • My daughter takes his going grievously.

  • A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.

  • So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so.
    Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee--
    For thou hast shown some sign of good desert--
    Makes me the better to confer with thee.

  • Longer than I prove loyal to your grace
    Let me not live to look upon your grace.

  • Thou know'st how willingly I would effect
    The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter.

  • And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
    How she opposes her against my will

  • She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

  • Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
    What might we do to make the girl forget
    The love of Valentine and love Sir Thurio?

  • The best way is to slander Valentine
    With falsehood, cowardice and poor descent,
    Three things that women highly hold in hate.

  • Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate.

  • Ay, if his enemy deliver it:
    Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
    By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

  • Then you must undertake to slander him.

  • And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do:
    'Tis an ill office for a gentleman,
    Especially against his very friend.

  • Where your good word cannot advantage him,
    Your slander never can endamage him;
    Therefore the office is indifferent,
    Being entreated to it by your friend.

  • You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it
    By ought that I can speak in his dispraise,
    She shall not long continue love to him.
    But say this weed her love from Valentine,
    It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.

  • Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
    Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
    You must provide to bottom it on me;
    Which must be done by praising me as much
    As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

  • And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind,
    Because we know, on Valentine's report,
    You are already Love's firm votary
    And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
    Upon this warrant shall you have access
    Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
    For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
    And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
    Where you may temper her by your persuasion
    To hate young Valentine and love my friend.

  • As much as I can do, I will effect:
    But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
    You must lay lime to tangle her desires
    By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
    Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.

  • Ay,
    Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

  • Say that upon the altar of her beauty
    You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
    Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
    Moist it again, and frame some feeling line
    That may discover such integrity:
    For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
    Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
    Make tigers tame and huge leviathans
    Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
    After your dire-lamenting elegies,
    Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
    With some sweet concert; to their instruments
    Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence
    Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.
    This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

  • This discipline shows thou hast been in love.

  • And thy advice this night I'll put in practise.
    Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
    Let us into the city presently
    To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.
    I have a sonnet that will serve the turn
    To give the onset to thy good advice.

  • About it, gentlemen!

  • We'll wait upon your grace till after supper,
    And afterward determine our proceedings.

  • Even now about it! I will pardon you.