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Out at the postern by the abbey-wall;
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.


SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke's



Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and Julia.


IR Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was;
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
Thu. What, that my leg is too long?

No; that it is too little.
Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.
Jul. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes.


Thu. What says she to my face?
She says it is a fair one.
Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is black.
Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
Jul. Tis true; such pearls as put out ladies' eyes;
For I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside.
Thu. How likes she my discourse?

Ill, when you talk of war.
Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace?
Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.

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


Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.


Thu. What says she to my birth?
That you are well deriv'd.
Jul. True, from a gentleman to a fool.
Thu. Considers she my possessions?



Oh, ay; and pities them.

Thu. Wherefore?

Jul. That such an ass should owe them.



That they are out by lease.

Jul. Here comes the Duke.

Enter Duke.

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

Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?

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Duke. Why, then 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;
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,
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.
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.


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.

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SCENE III. The Forest.

Enter SILVIA, and Out-laws.


COME, our captain.

come; be patient, we must bring you to

Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 2 Out. come, bring her away.

1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble-footed he hath outrun us, But Moyses and Valerius follow him.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood, There is our captain; we'll follow him that's fled. The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape.

1 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.

Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest.


OW use doth breed a habit in a man!


These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, 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, 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, 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?

[Steps aside.


Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you -Though you respect not aught your servant dothTo 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,
And less than this, I'm sure, you cannot give.
Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [Aside.
Sil. O miserable! unhappy that I am!

Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came;
But, by my coming, I have made you happy.
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy.
Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your pre-


Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
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 perjur'd Proteus:
Therefore be gone! solicit me no more.


Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look? Oh! 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, When women cannot love where they're belov'd.

Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. 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.

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!


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In love,

All men but Proteus.

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 you. Sil. O Heaven!


I'll force thee yield to my desire.


Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion!



Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or


For such is a friend now; treacherous man!!
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say

I have one friend alive; thou would'st disprove me.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,

I am sorry I must never trust thee more,

But count the world a stranger for thy sake.

The private wound is deep'st. O time most curst!
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
Pro. My shame and guilt confound me.-
Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender it here; I do as truly suffer,

As e'er I did commit.


Then I am paid;

And once again I do receive thee honest.

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