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 loved you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams of 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 of 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
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 refused,
To praise his faith which I would have dispraised.
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 here.
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 unadvised
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 will 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 profaned 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 loved 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 starved 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 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!
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 lovest 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, loved and adored!
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 used 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 5
Scene 1
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.
See where she comes.
Enter SILVIA
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 2
The same. The DUKE’s palace.
Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA
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 derived.
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 Laurence 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;