Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience

To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.

Go give your master this: tell him, from me,

115 One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,

Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.

Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.—

Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised

Deliver’d you a paper that I should not:

120 This is the letter to your ladyship.

Sil. There, hold!

I will not look upon your master’s lines:

IV. 4.
125 I know they are stuff’d with protestations,

And full of new-found oaths; which he will break

As easily as I do tear his paper.

Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me;

130 For I have heard him say a thousand times

His Julia gave it him at his departure.

Though his false finger have profaned the ring,

Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.

Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.

Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself:

140 To think upon her woes I do protest

That I have wept a hundred several times.

145 Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:

When she did think my master loved her well,

She, in my judgement, was as fair as you;

But since she did neglect her looking-glass,

And threw her sun-expelling mask away,

IV. 4.
150 The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks,

And pinch’d the lily-tincture of her face,

That now she is become as black as I.

Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost,

155 When all our pageants of delight were play’d,

Our youth got me to play the woman’s part,

And I was trimm’d in Madam Julia’s gown;

Which served me as fit, by all men’s judgements,

As if the garment had been made for me:

160 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;

165 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.

170 Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!

I weep myself to think upon thy words.

Here, youth, there is my purse: I give thee this

For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou lovest her.

Farewell. Exit Silvia, with attendants.

IV. 4.
175 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 itself!

180 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 myself too much.

185 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 periwig.

Her eyes are grey as glass; and so are mine:

Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high.

190 What should it be that he respects in her,

But I can make respective in myself,

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,

193 Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, loved, and adored!

And, were there sense in his idolatry,

My substance should be statue in thy stead.

I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake,

That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow,

IV. 4.
200 I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes,

To make my master out of love with thee! Exit.

Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky;

And now it is about the very hour

That Silvia, at Friar Patrick’s cell, should meet me.

She will not fail, for lovers break not hours,

5 Unless it be to come before their time;

So much they spur their expedition.

See where she comes.

Enter Silvia.

Lady, a happy evening!

Sil. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour,

Out at the postern by the abbey-wall:

10 I fear I am attended by some spies.

Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;

If we recover that, we are sure enough. Exeunt.

Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was;

And yet she takes exceptions at your person.

Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,

Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes.

Jul. [Aside] ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes;

For I had rather wink than look on them.

Duke. How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio!

Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?

Duke. Why then,

35 She’s fled unto that peasant Valentine;

And Eglamour is in her company.

’Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both,

As he in penance wander’d through the forest;

Him he knew well, and guess’d that it was she,

40 But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it;

Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick’s cell this even; and there she was not;

These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.

Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,

45 But mount you presently, and meet with me

Upon the rising of the mountain-foot

That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled:

Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. Exit.

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,

V. 2.
50 That flies her fortune when it follows her.

I’ll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour

Than for the love of reckless Silvia. Exit.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love

Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. Exit.

55 Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love

Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. Exit.

First Out. Come, come,

Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.

Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one

Have learn’d me how to brook this patiently.

Third Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us,

But Moses and Valerius follow him.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood;

10 There is our captain: we’ll follow him that’s fled;

The thicket is beset; he cannot ’scape.

First Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain’s cave:

Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,

And will not use a woman lawlessly.

Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!

This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:

Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

5 And to the nightingale’s complaining notes

Tune my distresses and record my woes.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,

Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,

Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,

10 And leave no memory of what it was!

Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!

What halloing and what stir is this to-day?

These are my mates, that make their wills their law,

15 Have some unhappy passenger in chase.

They love me well; yet I have much to do

To keep them from uncivil outrages.

Withdraw thee, Valentine: who’s this comes here?

Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,

20 Though you respect not aught your servant doth,

To hazard life, and rescue you from him

That would have forced your honour and your love;

Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look;

A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,

V. 4.
25 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.

Val. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear!

Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;

30 But by my coming I have made you happy.

Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,

I would have been a breakfast to the beast,

35 Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.

O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine,

Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul!

And full as much, for more there cannot be,

I do detest false perjured Proteus.

40 Therefore be gone; solicit me no more.

Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death,

Would I not undergo for one calm look!

O, ’tis the curse in love, and still approved,

When women cannot love where they’re beloved!

45 Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he’s beloved.

Read over Julia’s heart, thy first, best love,

For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith

Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths

Descended into perjury, to love me.

V. 4.
50 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two,

And that’s far worse than none; better have none

Than plural faith which is too much by one:

Thou counterfeit to thy true friend!

Pro.

In love

Who respects friend?

55 Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words

Can no way change you to a milder form,

I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end,

And love you ’gainst the nature of love,—force ye.

60 Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,

Thou friend of an ill fashion!

Val. Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love,

For such is a friend now; treacherous man!

Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye

65 Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say

I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.

Who should be trusted now, when one’s right hand

Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus,

I am sorry I must never trust thee more,

70 But count the world a stranger for thy sake.

The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,

’Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.

Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow

V. 4.
75 Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender ’t here; I do as truly suffer

As e’er I did commit.

Val.

Then I am paid;

And once again I do receive thee honest.

Who by repentance is not satisfied

80 Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.

By penitence the Eternal’s wrath’s appeased:

And, that my love may appear plain and free,

All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

Pro. How! let me see:

Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:

95 This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

Pro. But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart

I gave this unto Julia.

Jul. And Julia herself did give it me;

And Julia herself hath brought it hither.

Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,

And entertain’d ’em deeply in her heart.

How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!

O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!

105 Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me

Such an immodest raiment, if shame live

In a disguise of love:

It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,

Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

110 Pro. Than men their minds! ’tis true. O heaven, were man

But constant, he were perfect! That one error

Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins:

Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.

What is in Silvia’s face, but I may spy

115 More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye?

Val. Come, come, a hand from either:

Let me be blest to make this happy close;

’Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

Val. Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke.

Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced,

Banished Valentine.

Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;

Come not within the measure of my wrath;

Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,

Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands:

130 Take but possession of her with a touch:

I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.

Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:

I hold him but a fool that will endanger

His body for a girl that loves him not:

135 I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,

To make such means for her as thou hast done,

And leave her on such slight conditions.

Now, by the honour of my ancestry,

140 I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

And think thee worthy of an empress’ love:

Know, then, I here forget all former griefs,

Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,

Plead a new state in thy unrival’d merit,

145 To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,

Thou art a gentleman, and well derived;

Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.

Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy.

I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake,

V. 4.
150 To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

Val. These banish’d men that I have kept withal

Are men endued with worthy qualities:

Forgive them what they have committed here,

155 And let them be recall’d from their exile:

They are reformed, civil, full of good,

And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

Duke. Thou hast prevail’d; I pardon them and thee:

Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts.

160 Come, let us go: we will include all jars

With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.

Val. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold

With our discourse to make your Grace to smile.

What think you of this page, my lord?

Val. Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along,

That you will wonder what hath fortuned.

170 Come, Proteus; ’tis your penance but to hear

The story of your loves discovered:

That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;

One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. Exeunt.