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.
Enter Thurio with Musicians
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.
Enter the Host, and Julia, dressed as a page-boy.
They talk apart
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.
Song
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.
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.
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.
Exeunt Thurio and the Musicians
Enter Silvia, above
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 (aside) ‘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 (aside) 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 (aside)
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