suppose am I; for in his grave Assure thyself my love is buried. PROTEUS. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. SILVIA. Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence; Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine. JULIA. [Aside] He heard not that. PROTEUS. 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 will I make true love. JULIA. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it And make it but a shadow, as I am. SILVIA. 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. PROTEUS. As wretches have o'ernight That wait for execution in the morn. Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA JULIA. Host, will you go? HOST. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. JULIA. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? HOST. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost day. JULIA. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. Exeunt SCENE III. Under SILVIA'S window Enter EGLAMOUR EGLAMOUR. 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. Madam, madam! Enter SILVIA above, at her window SILVIA. Who calls? EGLAMOUR. Your servant and your friend; One that attends your ladyship's command. SILVIA. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow! EGLAMOUR. 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. SILVIA. 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 plagues. I do desire thee, even from a heart 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. EGLAMOUR. Madam, I pity much your grievances; Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, I give consent to go along with you, Recking as little what betideth me As much I wish all good befortune you. When will you go? SILVIA. This evening coming. EGLAMOUR. Where shall I meet you? SILVIA. At Friar Patrick's cell, Where I intend holy confession. EGLAMOUR. I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady. SILVIA. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. Exeunt SCENE IV. Under SILVIA'S Window 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 sav'd 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 Silvia 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 him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog 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 hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentleman-like dogs under the Duke's table; he had not been there, bless the mark, a pissing while but all the chamber smelt him. 'Out 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 stock for puddings he hath stol'n, otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd for't. Thou think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick you serv'd 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? Didst thou ever see me do such a trick? Enter PROTEUS, and JULIA in boy's clothes PROTEUS. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. JULIA. In what you please; I'll do what I can. PROTEUS..I hope thou wilt. [To LAUNCE] 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. PROTEUS. 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. PROTEUS. But she receiv'd my dog? LAUNCE. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back again. PROTEUS. What, didst thou offer her this from me? LAUNCE. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stol'n from me by the hangman's boys in the market-place; and then I offer'd her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater. PROTEUS. Go, get thee hence and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my sight. Away, I say. Stayest thou to vex me here? Exit LAUNCE A slave that still an end turns me to shame! 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. JULIA. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token. She is dead, belike? PROTEUS. Not so; I think she lives. JULIA. Alas! PROTEUS. Why dost thou cry 'Alas'? JULIA. I cannot choose But pity her. PROTEUS. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? JULIA. Because methinks that she lov'd you as well 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!' PROTEUS. 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 PROTEUS JULIA. How many women would do such a message? 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 speed. Enter SILVIA, attended Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. SILVIA. What would you with her, if that I be she? JULIA. If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. SILVIA. From whom? JULIA. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. SILVIA. O, he sends you for a picture? JULIA. Ay, madam. SILVIA. 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. JULIA. 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. SILVIA. I pray thee let me look on that again. JULIA. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. SILVIA. 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 wul break As easily as I do tear his paper. JULIA. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. SILVIA. The more shame for him that he sends it me; For I have heard him say a thousand times His Julia gave it him at his departure. Though his false finger have profan'd the ring, Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. JULIA. She thanks you. SILVIA. What say'st thou? JULIA. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Poor gentlewoman, my master wrongs her much. SILVIA. Dost thou know her? JULIA. Almost as well as I do know myself. To think upon her woes, I do protest That I have wept a hundred several times. SILVIA. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. JULIA. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow. SILVIA. Is she not passing fair? JULIA. 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 And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I. SILVIA. How tall was she? JULIA. 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 a good, 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. SILVIA. 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 her. Farewell. Exit SILVIA with ATTENDANTS JULIA. 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. Exit ACT V. SCENE I. Milan. An abbey Enter EGLAMOUR EGLAMOUR. 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. Enter SILVIA See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening! SILVIA. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey wall; I fear I am attended by some spies. EGLAMOUR. Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off; If we recover that, we are sure enough. Exeunt SCENE II. Milan. The DUKE'S palace Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA as SEBASTIAN THURIO. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? PROTEUS. O, sir, I find her milder than she was; And yet she takes exceptions at your person. THURIO. What, that my leg is too long? PROTEUS. No; that it is too little. THURIO. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder. JULIA. [Aside] But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes. THURIO. What says she to my face? PROTEUS. She says it is a fair one. THURIO. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. PROTEUS. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is: Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. JULIA. [Aside] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes; For I had rather wink than look on them. THURIO. How likes she my discourse? PROTEUS. Ill, when you talk of war. THURIO. But well when I discourse of love and peace? JULIA. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. THURIO. What says she to my valour? PROTEUS. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. JULIA. [Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. THURIO. What says she to my birth? PROTEUS. That you are well deriv'd. JULIA. [Aside] True; from a gentleman to a fool. THURIO. Considers she my possessions? PROTEUS. O, ay; and pities them. THURIO. Wherefore? JULIA. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them. PROTEUS. That they are out by lease. JULIA. Here comes the Duke. Enter DUKE DUKE. How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio! Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late? THURIO. Not I. PROTEUS. Nor I. DUKE. Saw you my daughter? PROTEUS. Neither. DUKE. Why then, She's fled unto that peasant Valentine; And Eglamour is in her company. 'Tis true; for Friar Lawrence met them both As he in penance wander'd through the forest; 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 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. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. Exit THURIO. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl That flies her fortune when it follows her. I'll after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. Exit PROTEUS. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. Exit JULIA. And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. Exit SCENE III. The frontiers of Mantua. The forest Enter OUTLAWS with SILVA FIRST OUTLAW. Come, come. Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. SILVIA. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. SECOND OUTLAW. Come, bring her away. FIRST OUTLAW. Where is the gentleman that was with her? SECOND OUTLAW. 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 fled. The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. FIRST OUTLAW. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave; Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly. SILVIA. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! Exeunt SCENE IV. Another part of the forest Enter VALENTINE VALENTINE. 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 tenantless, 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 law, 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 here? [Steps aside] Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA as Sebastian PROTEUS. 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. Vouchsafe me, 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. VALENTINE. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. SILVIA. O miserable, unhappy that I am! PROTEUS. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; But by my coming I have made you happy. SILVIA. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy. JULIA. [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. SILVIA. 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. PROTEUS. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look? O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, When women cannot love where they're belov'd! SILVIA. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd! Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith 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 Than plural faith, which is too much by one. Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! PROTEUS. In love, Who respects friend? SILVIA. All men but Proteus. PROTEUS. 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 ye. SILVIA. O heaven! PROTEUS. I'll force thee yield to my desire. VALENTINE. Ruffian! let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion! PROTEUS. Valentine! VALENTINE. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love- For such is a friend now; treacherous man, Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive: thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst! 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! PROTEUS. 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. VALENTINE. 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 th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd. And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. JULIA. O me unhappy! [Swoons] PROTEUS. Look to the boy. VALENTINE. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! What's the matter? Look up; speak. JULIA. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done. PROTEUS. Where is that ring, boy? JULIA. Here 'tis; this is it. PROTEUS. How! let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. JULIA. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook; This is the ring you sent to Silvia. PROTEUS. But how cam'st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. JULIA. And Julia herself did give it me; And Julia herself have brought it hither. PROTEUS. How! Julia! JULIA. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush! Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment- if shame live In a disguise of love. It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds. PROTEUS. Than men their minds! 'tis true. O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect! That one error Fills him with faults; makes him run through all th' sins: Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. What is in Silvia's face but I may spy More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? VALENTINE. Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be blest to make this happy close; 'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. PROTEUS. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever. JULIA. And I mine. Enter OUTLAWS, with DUKE and THURIO OUTLAW. A prize, a prize, a prize! VALENTINE. Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the Duke. Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, Banished Valentine. DUKE. Sir Valentine! THURIO. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. VALENTINE. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; Come not within the measure of my wrath; Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands Take but possession of her with a touch- I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. THURIO. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I; I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not. I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. DUKE. The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done And leave her on such slight conditions. Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress' love. Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd; Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. VALENTINE. I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy. I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. DUKE. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. VALENTINE. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal, Are men endu'd with worthy qualities; Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recall'd from their exile: They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord. DUKE. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and thee; Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. Come, let us go; we will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. VALENTINE. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your Grace to smile. What think you of this page, my lord? DUKE. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. VALENTINE. I warrant you, my lord- more grace than boy. DUKE. What mean you by that saying? VALENTINE. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortuned. Come, Proteus, 'tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; One feast, one house, one mutual happiness! Exeunt THE END