“Sir Valentine, I care not for her—I!” said Thurio, quite cowed. “I hold him but a fool who will endanger himself for a girl who does not love him. I claim her not, and therefore she is yours.”
“The more base of you to act as you have done, and then to leave her on such slight excuse!” said the Duke indignantly. “Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I applaud your spirit, Valentine; you are worthy of an Empress’s love. Know, then, I cancel here all that has passed, and summon you home again Sir Valentine, you are a gentleman. Take you your Silvia, for you have deserved her.”
“I thank your Grace; the gift has made me happy. I now beg you, for your daughter’s sake, to grant one boon that I shall ask of you.”
“I grant it you for your own, whatever it be,” said the Duke.
Then Valentine begged him to pardon the band of outlaws and recall them from exile.
“They are reformed, civil, full of good, and fit for great employment,” he said.
The Duke willingly granted his pardon, and then the whole party returned happily to Milan, where the same day wedding feasts were appointed for the two marriages—Valentine with Silvia, and Proteus with Julia.