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?