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 't were a substance, you would, sure, deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir;
But, since your falsehood, 't 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.

Host. By my halidom,' I was fast asleep. Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus?

Launce. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him

Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Same.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia Entreated me to call, and know her mind. There's some great matter she 'd employ me in.Madam, madam!

Enter SILVIA above, at her window.
Sil. Who calls?
Egl.
Your servant, and your friend;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow.
Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,"
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not,
Valiant, wise, remorseful,' well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,

came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon's leg. O! 'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies. I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily, he had been hang'd for 't: sure as I live, he had suffer'd for 't. You shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemen-like dogs under the duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him. "Out with the dog!" says one; "what cur is that?" says another; "whip him out," says the third; "hang him up," says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs: "Friend," quoth I; "do you mean to whip the dog?" "Ay, marry, do I," quoth he. "You do him the more wrong," quoth I; "'t was I did the thing you wot of." He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd for 't: thou think'st not of this now.-Nay, 1 remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia. Did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? Didst thou ever see me do such a trick? Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently.

Jul. In what you please: I will do what I can. Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How, now, you whoreson peasant!

Where have you been these two days loitering:

Launce. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the dog

If not, to hide what I have said to thee,

That I may venture to depart alone.

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances, And the most true affections that you bear ;*

Pro. And what says she to my little jewel? Launce. 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? Launce. No, indeed, did she not. brought him back again.

Here have

Pro. Go; get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my sight.

Away, I say! Stayest thou to vex me here?

A slave that still an end3 turns me to shame.

[Exit LAUNCE.

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 't is no trusting to yond foolish lowt;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour,
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's dead, belike?

Pro. Why dost thou cry alas?

Jul. I cannot choose 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 dote on her, that cares not for your love.
Tis pity, love should be so contrary,
And thinking on it makes me cry alas!

[Exit.

Pro. Well, give to her that ring; and therewithal
This letter:-that's her chamber.-Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
Jul. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus! 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 am I (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 myself.
Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly,
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter SILVIA, attended.

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 Proteus, madam.
Sil. O! he sends you for a picture.

Jul. Ay, madam.

Jul. Madam, so please you to peruse this letter.Pardon me, madam, I have unadvis'd [Giving a letter. Deliver'd you a paper that I should not:

This is the letter to your ladyship. [Giving another letter.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.

[Giving it back

I will not look upon your master's lines:
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.

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.
Though his false finger have profan'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 myself: To think upon her woes, I do protest,

That I have wept a hundred several times.

Sil. Belike, she thinks, that Proteus 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 lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Sil. How tall was she?

Jul. About my stature; for, at pentecost,
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 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 a-good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
Madam, 't was 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 myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth; there is my purse: I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.
Farewell.
[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 itself! 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; • Not in f.e • In good earnest.

Enter DUKE, angrily.'

Duke. How now, sir Proteus! how now, Thurio! Which of you saw sir' Eglamour of late?

Thu. Not I.

Pro. Nor I.

Duke. Saw you my daughter?

Pro. Neither.

Duke. Why, then

She's fled unto that peasant Valentine,
And Eglamour is in her company.

'T is true; for friar Lawrence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well; and guess'd that it was she,
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of her:
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,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain-foot,
That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled.
Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me.

[Exit in haste."

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. I'll after, more to be reveng'd 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. Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love.

SCENE III.-The Forest. Enter SILVIA, and Outlaws.

[Erit.

Thu. What says she to my valour?
Pro. O, sir! she makes no doubt of that.

[Aside.

Jul She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.

Jul. That such an ass should owe them. Pro. That they are out by lease

Jul. Here comes the duke.

'grey as glass: in f. e.

[Aside.

[Exeunt