Pro.
Madam, good even to your ladyship.

Sil.
I thank you for your music, gentlemen:
Who is he 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 Protheus, as I take it.

Pro.
Sir Protheus, gentle lady, and your servant.

Sil.
What is your will?

Pro.
That I may compass your's.

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 deceiv'd 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,
Ev'n 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. [Aside.]
Very near it, indeed;
But I am sure she is not buried.

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 importunacy?

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 thence,
Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.

Jul. [Aside.]
He heard not that.

Pro.
Madam, if that 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.

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

Sil.
I'm very loth to be your idol, sir;
But since your falshood 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. Exit.

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

Jul.
Host, will you go?

Host.
By my halidom I was fast asleep.

Jul.
Pray you where lies Sir Protheus?

Host.
Marry at my house: trust me I think 'tis almost day.

Jul.
Tis so, but it hath been the longest night,
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heavy one. Exeunt.

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