SCENE II.-Milan. Court of the Palace.

Enter PROTEUS. Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. Under the colour of commending him, I have access my own love to prefer ; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. When I protest true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; When to her beauty I commend my vows, She bids me think, how I have been forsworn In breaking faith with Julia, whom I lov'd : And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips, The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, The more it grows, and fawneth on her still. But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window, And give some evening music to her ear.

Enter THURIO, and Musicians.
Thu. How now, sir Proteus ? are you crept before us?

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio ; for you know, that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.

Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that you love not here.
Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.
Thu. Whom? Silvia ?
Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake.

Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.

Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy's clothes.

Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it ?

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak ?
Host. Ay, that you shall.
Jul. That will be music.

[Music plays.
Host. Hark! hark!
Jul. Is he among these ?
Host. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.
Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she ;

The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

Is she kind, as she is fair ?

For beauty lives with kindness :
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;
And, being help’d, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling ;
She excels each mortal thing,

Upon the dull earth dwelling :
To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now? are you sadder than you were be

fore?
How do you, man? the music likes you not.

Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me not.
Host. Why, my pretty youth?
Jul. He plays false, father.
Host. How ? out of tune on the strings?

Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf ! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.
Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music!
Jul. Ay; that change is the spite.

Host. You would have them play always but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host. I tell you what Launce, his told me, he loved her out of all nick.

Jul. Where is Launce ?

Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Jul. Peace! stand aside! the company parts.

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so plead, That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.

Thu. Where meet we?

man, told

Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell. [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians.

ne, lad.. Spake?

You'd

Silvia appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.

Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen :
Who is that, that spake?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.

Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will ?
Pro. That I may compass yours.

Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceived so many with thy vows ?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,-by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

Jul. 'Twere false, if I should speak it; For, I am sure, she is not buried.

[Aside. Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Survives; to whom, thyself art witness, I am betroth’d: And art thou not asham’d To wrong him with thy importúnacy?

Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.

Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave, Assure thyself, my love is buried.

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence; Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine. Jul. He heard not that.

[Aside. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber; 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 I will make true love.

Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it, And make it but a shadow, as I am.

[Aside. Sil. I am very loth 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.

Pro. As wretches have o’er-night, That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above, Jul. Host, will you go? Host. By my hallidom, 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. [Exeunt.