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Your message done, hye home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. [Ex. Pro.
Jul. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Protheus, thou haft entertain'd
A fox to be the Thepherd 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 I am, 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 my self.
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly,
As, heav'n it knows, I would not have him speed.
Lady, good day, I pray you, be my Mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvie.,
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul. If you be the, I do intreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am fent on.
Sil. From whom?
Jul. From my master Sir Protheus, Madam.
Sil. Oh! he sends you for a picture?
Jul. Ay, Madam.
Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.
Go, give your matter this : tell him from me,
One Juliag' that his changing thoughts forget;
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, may't please you to peruse this letter.
Pardon me, Madam, I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not ;
This is the letter to your ladyíhip.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be; good Madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold; I will not look upon your master's lines; I know, they're stufft 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 3
For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Tho' his false finger have prophan'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 my self.
To think upon her woes, I do proteft,
That I have wept an hundred several times.
Sil. Belike, she thinks, that Protheus 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 Gnce she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling masque away;
The air hath stary'd the roles in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lilly-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 plaid,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Julia's gown ;
Which served me as fit, by all mens 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, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjuft Alight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterlys and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
- Sit. She-is-beholden to thee, gentle youth.
Alas, poor lady! desolate and left!
I wept my self, 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.
[Exit Silvia. Jul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e'er you know
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful.
I hope, my master's luit will be but cold;
Since the respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas! how love can trifle with it self!
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 my self too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow.
If that be all the diff'rence in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd perriwig.
Her eyes are grey as Glass, and so are mine ; (16)
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine is high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I'can make respective in my self,
If this fond love were not a blinded god?
Come, shadow, come ; and take this shadow up;
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shalt be worship’d, kiss’d, lov'd and ador'd ;
(16) Her Eyes are grey as Grass.] Mr. Rowé and Mr. Pope's Éditions, for what Reason I know not, vary from the old Copies, which have it rightly, Glass. So Chaucer, in the Character of his Prioress;
Full femély ber Wimple pinchid was,
Her. Nefe was tretes, her Eyen grey as Glass.
And were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be ftatue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.
SCENE, near the Friar's Cell, in Milan.
HE sun begins to gild the western sky,
And now it is about the very hour
Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me.
She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time:
So much they four their expedition.
See, where the comes. Lady, a happy evening.)
Sil. Amen, Amen! Go on, good Eglamour,
Out at the postern by the Abby-wall;
I fear, I am attended by some spies.
Egl. Fear not; the forest is not three leagues off;
If we recover that, we're sure enough. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes to an Apartment in the
Enter Thurio, Protheus, and Julia. Thu. Sir Protheus, what says Silvia to my
suit ? Pro. Oh, Sir, I find her milder than she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
Thu. What, that my leg is too long?
Pro. No; that it is too little.
Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder.
Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loaths.
Thu. What says she to my face?
Pro. 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 cyes; For I had rather wink, than look on them. [Afide,
Thu. How likes she my discourse?
Pro. 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. Oh, Sir, she makes no doubt of that.
Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice,
Thu. What says she to my birth?
Pro. That you are well deriv’d.
Jul. True ; from a gentleman to a fool.
Thu. Considers fhe my possessions ?
Pro. Oh, ay, and pities them.
Jul. That such an ass should own therg.
Pro. That they are out by lease.
Jul. Here comes the Duke,
Duke. How now, Sir Protheus? how now, Thuria?
Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?
Thu. Not I.
Pro. Nor I.
Duke. Saw you my daughter?
Duke. Why then
She's fed 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 foreft: