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To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep ;
For since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow,
And to your shadow will I make true love.
Jul. Aside. If 'twere a substance, you would,
sure, deceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.
Sil. I am very loath to be your idol, sir;
But since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadows and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning and I'll send it.
And so, good rest.
As wretches have o'ernight
That wait for execution in the morn.
Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA.
Jul. Host, will you go?
Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.
Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?
Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think
'tis almost day.
Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd and the most heaviest.
Enter SILVIA above, at her window.
Sil. Who calls?
Your servant and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good
Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,
I am thus early come to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.
Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine,
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say
No grief did ever come so near thy heart
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief,
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still rewards with
I do desire thee, even from a heart
SCENE IV.-The Same.
Enter LAUNCE, with his Dog.
Launce. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress lvia from my master, and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg. O! 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies. I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon
SCENE III.--The Same,
Egl. This is the hour that Madam Silvia Entreated me to call and know her mind: There's some great matter she 'd employ me in. him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog Madam, madam!
at all things. If I had not had more wit than
he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think
verily he had been hanged for 't sure as I live,
he had suffered for 't: you shall judge. He
thrusts me himself into the company of three or
four gentlemanlike dogs under the duke's table:
he had not been there-bless the mark-a piss-
ing while, but all the chamber smelt him.
with the dog!' says one; 'what cur is that?'
says another; whip him out,' says the third;
hang him up,' says the duke. I, having been
acquainted with the smell before, knew it was
Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the
dogs Friend,' quoth I, 'you mean to whip the
dog?' 'Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. 'You do
him the more wrong,' quoth I; ''twas I did the
thing you wot of.' He makes me no more ado,
but whips me out of the chamber. How many
masters would do this for his servant? Nay,
I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for pud-
dings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been
executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese
he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for 't;
thou thinkest not of this now. Nay, I remem-
ber the trick you served me when I took my
leave of Madam Silvia. Did not I bid thee
still mark me and do as I do? When didst
thou see me heave up my leg and make water
against a gentlewoman's farthingale?
thou ever see me do such a trick?
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company and go with me:
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.
Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.
Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well And will employ thee in some service presently.
Jul. In what you please: I will do what I can. Pro. I hope thou wilt. How now, you whoreson peasant!
Where have you been these two days loitering? Launce. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
Pro. And what says she to my little jewel?
Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present.
Pro. But she received my dog?
Launce. No, indeed, did she not. Here have I brought him back again.
Pro. What! didst thou offer her this from me?
Launce. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the marketplace; and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.
Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here?
A slave that still an end turns me to shame.
She's dead, belike?
Pro. Why dost thou cry 'alas'?
But pity her.
Wherefore should'st thou pity her? Jul. Because methinks that she lov'd you as well
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly that I have need of such a youth
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout;
But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour,
Which, if my augury deceive me not,
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently and take this ring with thee:
Deliver it to Madam Silvia.
She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me.
Jul. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her For I have heard him say a thousand times 140
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring,
Not so; I think she lives. Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
Jul. She thanks you.
Sil. What say'st thou ?
Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.
Sil. Dost thou know her?
As you do love your lady Silvia.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry 'alas!'
Pro. Well, give her that ring and therewithal
This letter: that's her chamber. Tell my lady,
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. Exit.
Jul. How many women would do such a
Alas! poor Proteus, thou hast entertain'd
A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.
Alas! poor fool, why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will;
And now am I, unhappy messenger,
To plead for that which I would not obtain,
To carry that which I would have refus'd,
To praise his faith which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true-confirmed love,
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him
Enter SILVIA, attended.
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil. From whom?
Jul. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam, 120
Sil. O he sends you for a picture?
Jul. Ay, madam.
Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.
Go give your master this: tell him, from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.-
Pardon me, madam, I have unadvis'd
| Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:
This is the letter to your ladyship.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.
I will not look upon your master's lines :
I know they are stuff'd with protestations
And full of new-found oaths, which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.
Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it
Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes I do protest
That I have wept a hundred several times.
Sil. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath for-
Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause
Sil. Is she not passing fair?
Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is.
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks 100
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.
Sil. How tall was she?
Jul. About my stature; for at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep agood,
For I did play a lamentable part.
Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly, and would I might be dead
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
Alas! poor lady, desolate and left,
I weep myself to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse: I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st
Exit, attended. Jul. And she shall thank you for 't, if e'er you know her.
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful!
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas! how love can trifle with itself.
Here is her picture: let me see; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers;
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If that be all the difference in his love
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine:
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
What should it be that he respects in her
But I can make respective in myself,
If this fond Love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form!
Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd and ador'd,
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.
SCENE I-Milan. An Abbey.
Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky,
And now it is about the very hour
That Silvia at Friar Patrick's cell should meet me.
She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time,
So much they spur their expedition.
Pro. She says it is a fair one.
Thu. Nay then, the wanton lies; my face is black. Pro. But pearls are fair, and the old saying is, 'Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.' Jul. Aside. 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes;
For I had rather wink than look on them.
Thu. How likes she my discourse?
Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.
Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace?
Jul. Aside. But better, indeed, when you hold
Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.
Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA.
Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
Pro. Oh, sir, I find her milder than she was;
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
Thu. What! that my leg is too long?
Pro. No, that it is too little.
Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat
Jul. Aside. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes.
Thu. What says she to my face?
Thu. What says she to my valour?
Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
Jul. Aside. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
Thu. What says she to my birth?
Pro. That you are well deriv'd.
At Patrick's cell this even, and there she was not.
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain-foot,
That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled.
See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening! Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.
Sil. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey-wall.
Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off; Than for the love of reckless Silvia. I'll after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour If we recover that, we are sure enough.
I fear I am attended by some spies.
Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.
'Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest; 50
Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she,
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it;
Besides, she did intend confession
Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love. Exit.
SCENE III.-The Forest.
Enter SILVIA and Outlaws.
First Out, Come, come,
Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
Second Out. Come, bring her away.
First Out. Where is the gentleman that was
Third Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us;
But Moyses and Valerius follow him.
Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;
There is our captain. We'll follow him that 's
The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape.
First Out. Come, I must bring you to our Than plural faith which is too much by one. 52 captain's cave. Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!
Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,
And will not use a woman lawlessly.
Sil. O Valentine! this I endure for thee.
SCENE IV. Another Part of the Forest.
Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long teuantless,
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia!
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!
What halloing and what stir is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury to love me.
Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two,
And that's far worse than none: better have none
Who respects friend!
All men but Proteus.
Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
Can no way change you to a milder form,
I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end,
And love you 'gainst the nature of love,-force
Have some unhappy passenger in chase.
They love me well; yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes
Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA.
Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,
Though you respect not aught your servant doth,
To hazard life and rescue you from him
That would have forc'd your honour and your love.
for my meed, but one fair look;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.
Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am!
Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came ;
But by my coming I have made you happy.
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most
Jul. Aside. And me, when he approacheth to
Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
O! heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul,
And full as much, for more there cannot be,
I do detest false perjur'd Proteus.
Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.
Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive: thou would'st disprove me.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,
I am sorry I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 70
The private wound is deepest. O time most
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.
Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here: I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit.
Then I am paid;
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth; for these are pleas'd.
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd: 81
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
Jul. O me unhappy!
Pro. Look to the boy.
Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what is the matter?
Look up; speak.
O good sir, my master charg'd me
To deliver a ring to Madam Silvia,
Which, out of my neglect, was never done.
Pro. Where is that ring, boy?
Pro. How! let me see.
Here 'tis this is it. 90
Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.
Jul. O cry you mercy, sir; I have mistook:
And entertain'd them deeply in her heart : Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ! To make such means for her as thou hast donc,
O Proteus ! let this habit make thee blush: And leave her on such slight conditions.
Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
In a disguise of love :
And think thee worthy of an empress' love. 163 It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Women to change their shapes than men their Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, minds,
Plead a new state in thy unrivall’d merit, Pro. Than men their minds ! 'tis true. 0 To which I thus subscribe : Sir Valentine, heaven! were man
Thou art a gentleman and well deriv'd; But constant, he were perfect : that one error 110 Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. Fills him with faults ; makes him run through Val, I thank your grace; the gift hath made all the sins :
me happy. Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ?
Duke. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. Val. Come, come, a hand from either.
Val. These banish'd men that I have kept Let me be blest to make this happy close :
withal "Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. Are men endued with worthy qualities : Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish Forgive them what they have committed here, for ever.
And let them be recallid from their exile. Jul. And I mine.
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord. Enter Outlaws, with DUKE anl TAURIO.
Duke. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them
and thee: Out. A prize! a prize! a prize!
120 Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. Val. Forbear : forbear, I say ; it is my lord Come, let us go: we will include all jars the duke.
With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity. Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Val. And as we walk along, I dare be bold Banished Valentine.
With our discourse to make your grace to smile. Duke, Sir Valentine !
What think you of this page, my lord ? Thu. Yonder is Silvia ; and Silvia 's mine. Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him : he l'al. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy blushes. death;
Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than Come not within the measure of my wrath ;
boy. Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again,
Duhe. What mean you by that saying?
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands ; Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
Take but possession of her with a touch ; That you will wonder what hath fortuned.
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. 230 Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance but to hear
Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. The story of your loves discovered :
I hold him but a fool that will endanger That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ;
His body for a girl that loves him not :
One feast, one house, one mutual bappiness. I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.