? Nothing. Villain, forbear. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,-- Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word. My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untuneable and bad. Is Silvia dead? No, Valentine. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. Hath she forsworn me? No, Valentine. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. What is your news? Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished. That thou art banished--O, that's the news!-- From hence, from Silvia and from me thy friend. O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banished? Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom-- Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force-- A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them As if but now they waxed pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. Besides, her intercession chafed him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st Have some malignant power upon my life: If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help for that which thou lament'st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts. Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence; Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. The time now serves not to expostulate: Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate; And, ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy love-affairs. As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me! I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, Bid him make haste and meet me