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 Protheus, as I take it.

Pro.
Sir Protheus, 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 hath 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]
'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For, I am sure, she is not buried.

Sil.
Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroath'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 hers 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 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 Protheus and Silvia.

Jul.

Host, will you go?

Host.

By my hallidom, I was fast asleep.

Jul.

Pray you, where lies 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.

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