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 Falshood 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 Protheus, 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 turn, and to it lustily a while. Enter Host, and Julia in Boys Cloaths.

Host.

Now my young Guest; methinks you're allycholly: I pray what 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.

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 Heav'n 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 before?
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?

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 Musick.

Jul.
Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host.
Hark what fine Change is in the Musick.

Jul.
Ay; that Change is the Spight.

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 Protheus, that we talk on,
Often resort unto this Gentlewoman?

Host.
I tell you what Launce, his Man, told me,
He lov'd 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; I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning Drift excels.

Thu.
Where meet we?

Pro.
At Saint Gregory's Well.

Thu.
Farewel. [Exit Thu. and Music. Enter Silvia above.

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 would quickly learn to know him by his Voice.

Sil.
Sir Protheus?

Pro.
Sir Protheus, gentle Lady, and your Servant.

Sil.
What's your Will?

Pro.
That I may compass yours.

Sil.
You have your Wish; my Will is ever 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 by 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 my self,
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 bury'd.

Sil.
Say that she be; yet Valentine, thy Friend,
Survives; to whom, thy self 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 thy self, 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 hers sepulchre thine.

Jul.
He heard not that.

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 will I make true Love.

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

Sil.
I am very loath 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.

Pro.
As Wretches have o'er Night,
That wait for Execution in the Morn. [Exeunt Pro. and Sil.

Jul.
Host, will you go?

Host.
By my Hallidom, I was fast asleep.

Jul.
Pray you where lyes Sir Protheus?

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.

Previous section

Next section