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 musick 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?

1

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 musick, 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 musick.

I

Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick!
Jul. Ay, that change is the spite.

Host. You would have them always play 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 man, 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?
Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell!

[Exeunt Thurio and Musicians.
SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship!
Sil. I thank you for your musick, 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 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!

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 buriel.

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.

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdúrate, 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:

fore?

How do you, man? the musick 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?

Is else devoted, I am but a shadow;

[Aside.

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 musick.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it:
And so, good rest!

Pro. As wretches have o'ernight,

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia, from above.

Jul. Host, will you go?

when a cur cannot keep himself in all compauies! I would have, as one should say, one, that takes upon him

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night,
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. — The same.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

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. Madam, madam!

SILVIA appears above, at her window. Sil. Who calls?

Egl. Your servant, and your friend;
One, that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-morrow!
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 accomplished.
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 abhorr'd.
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 reward 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:
Ifnot, 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,
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?

Sil. This evening coming.

Egl. Where shall I meet you?

Sil. At friar Patrick's cell,

Where I intend holy confession.

Egl. I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady!

Sil. Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour!

SCENE IV. - The same. Enter LAUNCE, with his dog.

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 gentlemen-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 their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat on the stocks for puddings 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 think'st not of this now!-Nay, I remember the trick, you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia; did not Ibid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thon 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.

-

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please ;- Ewill do what I can. Pro. I hope, thou wilt. How now, you whoreson peasant? [To Launce. Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, sir,I carried mistress Silvia the dog, you bade me.

Pro. And what says she to my little jewel? Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks good enough for such a present. Pro. But she received my dog?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Laun. Ay, sir, the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's 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.

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

Partly, that I have need of such a youth,

[Exit 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 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,

She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.
Jul. It seems, you loved her not, to leave her token:
She's dead, belike.

Pro. Not so; I think, she lives.
Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas?
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you as well,

Jul. 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 I will 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.
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.
Sil. O!-he sends you for a picture?
Jul. Ay, madam.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there!

[Picture brought.
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
Delivered 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 me;
For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
Jul. She thanks you.

Sil. What say'st thou ?

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.
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'din madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgment,
As ifthe 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,
IfI in thought felt not her very sorrow!
Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth!-
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left! —
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.
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 coloured 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.