Enter Valentine.
VALENTINE.
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale’s complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall
And leave no memory of what it was.
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain.
[Shouts within.]
What hallowing and what stir is this today?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger in chase.
They love me well; yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine. Who’s this comes here?
[Steps aside.]
Enter Proteus, Silvia and Julia as Sebastian.
PROTEUS.
Madam, this service I have done for you—
Though you respect not aught your servant doth—
To hazard life, and rescue you from him
That would have forced your honour and your love.
Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
VALENTINE.
[Aside.] How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.
SILVIA.
O miserable, unhappy that I am!
PROTEUS.
Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;
But by my coming I have made you happy.