Act 4, Scene 2

PROTEUS

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 loved;
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.

THURIO

How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us?

PROTEUS

Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.

THURIO

Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.

PROTEUS

Sir, but I do, or else I would be hence.

THURIO

Who? Silvia?

PROTEUS

Ay, Silvia, for your sake.

THURIO

I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile.

HOST

Now, my young guest, methinks you’re allycholly. I pray you, why is it?

JULIA

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.

JULIA

But shall I hear him speak?

HOST

Ay, that you shall.

JULIA

That will be music.

HOST

Hark, hark!

JULIA

Is he among these?

HOST

Ay; but peace, let’s hear ’em.

PROTEUS

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.

PROTEUS

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 helped, inhabits there.

PROTEUS

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.

JULIA

You mistake; the musician likes me not.

HOST

Why, my pretty youth?

JULIA

He plays false, father.

HOST

How, out of tune on the strings?

JULIA

Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very heart-strings.

HOST

You have a quick ear.

JULIA

Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart.

HOST

I perceive you delight not in music.

JULIA

Not a whit, when it jars so.

HOST

Hark, what fine change is in the music!

JULIA

Ay, that change is the spite.

HOST

You would have them always play but one thing?

JULIA

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 tell you what Lance, his man, told me: he loved her out of all nick.

JULIA

Where is Lance?

HOST

Gone to seek his dog, which tomorrow, by his master’s command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

JULIA

Peace, stand aside. The company parts.

PROTEUS

Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will so plead
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

THURIO

Where meet we?

PROTEUS

At Saint Gregory’s well.

THURIO

Farewell.

PROTEUS

Madam, good even to your ladyship.

SILVIA

I thank you for your music, gentlemen.
Who is that that spake?

PROTEUS

One, lady, if you knew his pure heart’s truth,
You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.

SILVIA

Sir Proteus, as I take it.

PROTEUS

Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

SILVIA

What’s your will?

PROTEUS

That I may compass yours.

SILVIA

You have your wish. My will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man,
Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceived 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.

PROTEUS

I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady,
But she is dead.

JULIA

’Twere false, if I should speak it,
For I am sure she is not buried.

SILVIA

Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend
Survives, to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betrothed. And art thou not ashamed
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

PROTEUS

I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

SILVIA

And so suppose am I, for in his grave,
Assure thyself, my love is buried.

PROTEUS

Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

SILVIA

Go to thy lady’s grave and call hers thence,
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

JULIA

He heard not that.

PROTEUS

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.

JULIA

If ’twere a substance you would sure deceive it
And make it but a shadow, as I am.

SILVIA

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.

PROTEUS

As wretches have o’ernight
That wait for execution in the morn.

JULIA

Host, will you go?

HOST

By my halidom, I was fast asleep.

JULIA

Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?

HOST

Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think ’tis almost day.

JULIA

Not so; but it hath been the longest night
That e’er I watched, and the most heaviest.