Pro. I hope, thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson peasant! [TO LAUNCE. Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade 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 received my dog? Laun. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back again. Pro. What! didst thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the market-place and then I offered 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?- [Exit LAUNCE. Sebastian, I have entertained thee, She loved me well deliver'd it to me. Jul. It seems you loved not her, to leave her token. She's dead belike. Pro. Jul. Alas! Not so; I think she lives. Pro. Why dost thou cry, Alas? I cannot choose but pity her. Pro. Wherefore should'st 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 love. your 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary; And thinking on it makes me cry Alas! 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. [Exit. Jul. How many women would do such a message ? This ring I gave him, when he parted from me, 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. 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. Oh!-he sends you for a picture? Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. [Picture brought. Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.- Sil. I pray thee let me look on that again. 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. Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring, 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. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. And threw her sun-expelling mask away, Sil. How tall was she? Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost, Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth! I weep myself, to think upon thy words. give thee this For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her Farewell. Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. [Exit SILVIA. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful! 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; And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, Unless I flatter with myself 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 periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass; and so are mine: If this fond Love were not a blinded god? I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I. Milan. An Abbey. Enter EGLAMOUR. Eglamour. HE sun begins to gild the western sky, That Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours, Enter SILVIA. See, where she comes! Lady, a happy evening. |