DUKE  Thank me for this more than for all the favours

Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee.

But if thou linger in my territories

Longer than swiftest expedition

Will give thee time to leave our royal court,

By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love

I ever bore my daughter or thyself.

Be gone. I will not hear thy vain excuse,

But as thou lov’st thy life, make speed from hence.

[Exit]   (3.1.161-169)

There’s a sense through here that Valentine’s trying to say something, perhaps to apologise, explain, plead, or, initially, to make a salvage attempt by expressing courteous gratitude for the lovely time that he’s been having in Milan—but the Duke’s having none of that. Thank me for this—that I’m letting you leave at all (rather than imprisoning you, say, or worse)—more than for all the favours which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee. Just be grateful I’m letting you go; that’s a bigger thing than any courtesies and advantages I’ve shown you. All of which I am now deeply regretting, you ingrate. But if thou linger in my territories longer than swiftest expedition will give thee time to leave our royal court—if you stay one moment longer than is necessary to pack your bags, arrange transport and get out—by heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever bore my daughter or myself. I won’t be answerable for anything that I do. I will come down on you like a tonne of bricks, never mind the fact that we’ve become almost mates, or even that I love my daughter. Be gone. You’re banished. No, I will not hear thy vain excuse—don’t even try, it’s pointless—just shut up, anything you say will only make it worse. But as thou lov’st thy life, make speed from hence. With all possible speed, and on pain of death, get the hell out of my house and Milan.