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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 chaf’d him so,

When she for thy repeal was suppliant,

That to close prison he commanded her,

With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val.

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 dolor.

Pro.

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,