Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter’d now:
II. 4.
125 I have done penance for contemning Love,
[Whose] high imperious thoughts have punish’d me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
130 Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart’s sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love’s a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me; [as I confess]