Pro.
Sebastian is thy Name? I like thee well,

And will imploy thee in some Service presently.

Jul.
In what you please: I'll do, Sir, what I can.

Pro.
I hope thou wilt.
How now, you Whore-Son Pesant,
Where have you been these two Days loitering?

Laun.

Marry, Sir, I carry'd Mistress Silvia the Dog you bad me.

Pro.

And what says she to my little Jewel?

Laun.

Marry, she says, your Dog was a Cur, and tells you, currish Thanks is good enough for such a Present.

Pro.

But she receiv'd my Dog?

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

Pro.
What, did'st thou offer her this from me?

Laun.
Ay Sir; the other Squirrel was stoll'n from me
By the Hangman's Boy 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.

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. [Exit Laun.
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 yon foolish Lowt:
But chiefly for thy Face and thy Behavior,
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.

Jul.
It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her Token:
She is dead belike.

Pro.
Not so: I think she lives.

Jul.
Alas!

Pro.
Why do'st thou cry alas?

Jul.
I cannot chuse but pity her.

Pro.
Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

Jul.
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 doat on her that cares not for your Love.
'Tis pity Love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry alas.

Pro.
Well, give her that Ring, and therewithal
This Letter; that's her Chamber: Tell my Lady,
I claim the Promise for her heav'nly Picture.
Your Message done, hye home unto my Chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. [Exit Pro.

Jul.
How many Women would do such a Message?
Alas, poor Protheus, 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 I am, 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 my self:
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly,
As, Heav'n it knows, I would not have him speed. Enter Silvia.
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 Protheus, Madam.

Sil.
Oh! he sends you for a Picture?

Jul.
Ay, Madam.

Sil.
Ursula, bring my Picture there.
Go, give your Master this; tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing Thoughts forgot,

Would better fit his Chamber than this Shadow.

Jul.
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.

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 stuft with Protestations,
And full of new-found Oaths, which he will break
As easie 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:
Tho' his false Finger hath prophan'd the Ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much Wrong.

Jul.
She thanks you.

Sil.
What say'st thou?

Jul.
I thank you, Madam, that you tender her;
Poor Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much.

Sil.
Dost thou know her?

Jul.
Almost as well as I do know my self.
To think upon her Woes, I do protest,
That I have wept an hundred several times.

Sil.
Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her.

Jul.
I think she doth; and that's her cause of Sorrow.

Sil.
Is she not passing fair?

Jul.
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 Lilly-Tincture of her Face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Sil.
How tall was she?

Jul.
About my Stature: For at Penticost,
When all our Pageants of Delight were plaid,
Our Youth got me to play the Woman's Part,

And I was trim'd in Madam Julia's Gown,
Which served me as fit, by all Mens 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.

Sil.
She is beholding to thee, gentle Youth.
Alas, poor Lady! desolate and left;
I weep my self to think upon thy Words.
Here Youth, there is a Purse; I give thee this
For thy sweet Mistress sake, because thou lov'st her:
Farewel. [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 it self!
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 my self 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 Perriwig.
Her Eyes are grey as Grass, 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 my self,
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 worship'd, kiss'd, lov'd and ador'd;
And were there Sense in this 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.

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