VALENTINE.
And I will help thee to prefer her too:
She shall be dignified with this high honour,
To bear my lady’s train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower
And make rough winter everlastingly.
PROTEUS.
Why, Valentine, what braggartism is this?
VALENTINE.
Pardon me, Proteus, all I can is nothing
To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone.
PROTEUS.
Then let her alone.
VALENTINE.
Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
PROTEUS.
But she loves you?
VALENTINE.
Ay, and we are betrothed; nay more, our marriage hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determined of: how I must climb her window,
The ladder made of cords, and all the means
Plotted and ’greed on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
PROTEUS.
Go on before; I shall enquire you forth.
I must unto the road to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use,
And then I’ll presently attend you.
VALENTINE.
Will you make haste?
PROTEUS.
I will.