Milan. The Court of the DUKE'S 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 music 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. Who? Silvia? |
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 and JULIA behind. 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 music and see the gentleman that you asked for. |
Jul. But shall I hear him speak? |
Host. Ay, that you shall. |
Jul. That will be music. [Music plays. |
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 heaven 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 music 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 music. |
Jul. Not a whit,—when it jars so. |
Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music! |
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 will 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 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. |
|
Enter SILVIA above, at her window. |
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. |
Sil. I thank you for your music, 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 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 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 |
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. [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 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 hers thence; |
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine. |
Jul. [Aside.] 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. [Aside.] 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 falsehood 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 PROTEUS, and SILVIA, above. |
Jul. Host, will you go? |
Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. |
Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? |
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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