ACT I.

SCENE I.—An open Place in Verona.

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS.

Valentine. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus;

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:

Wer't not affection chains thy tender days

To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,

I rather would entreat thy company,

To see the wonders of the world abroad,

Than living dully sluggardiz'd at home,

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.

But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein,

Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Proteus. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!

Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest

Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:

Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy danger,

If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,

For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.

Valentine. And on a love-book pray for my success.

Proteus. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee.

Valentine. That's on some shallow story of deep love.

How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

Proteus. That's a deep story of a deeper love;

For he was more than over shoes in love.

Valentine. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont.

Proteus. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.

Valentine. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not.