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:
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respective in myself,

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 worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd,
And, were there sense in his idolatry,

My substance should be statue 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. [Exit.

SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.

Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA.

Thu. Sir 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? Pro. No, that it is too little.

Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder.

Jul. [Aside.] 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. [Aside.] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out

ladies' eyes;

For I had rather wink than look on them.

Thu. How likes she my discourse?
Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.

Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace?

Jul. [Aside.] But better, indeed, when you hold

Jul. [Aside.] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.

Thu. What says she to my birth?

Pro. That you are well deriv'd.

Jul. [Aside.] True; from a gentleman to a fool. Thu. Considers she my possessions?

Pro. O! ay; and pities them.

Thu. Wherefore?

Jul. [Aside.] That such an ass should owe them. Pro. 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 Eglamour of late?

Thu. Not I.

Pro. Nor I.

Duke. Saw you my daughter? Pro. Neither.

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. [Exit.
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.

[Exit.

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. [Exit.

SCENE III.-The Forest.

Enter SILVIA, and Outlaws.

1 Out. Come, come; be patient, we must bring you to our captain.

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.
Enter VALENTINE.

Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This 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 chace.
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.

Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, (Though you respect not aught your servant doth,) To hazard life, and rescue you from him, That would have forc'd 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 am sure, you cannot give.

your presence.

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.

O! '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 be-
lov'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!

Pro. Who respects friend?

In love

All men but Proteus.

Sil. 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!

Pro. Valentine!

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

(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 deepest.

curst!

O time most ac

'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 't here: I do as truly suffer,

As e'er I did commit.

Val.
Then, I am paid;
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied,

Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd.
By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd:
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Šilvia I give thee.
Jul. O me unhappy!

Pro. Look to the boy.

Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter? look up; speak.

Jul. O good sir! my master charg'd me to deliver a ring to madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.

Pro. Where is that ring, boy?

Jul.

Here 'tis: this is it. [Gives a ring. Pro. How! let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

Jul. O! cry you mercy, sir: I have mistook: This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

[Shows another ring. Pro. But, how cam'st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. Jul. And Julia herself did give it me; And Julia herself hath brought it hither. Pro. How? Julia!

Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, And entertain'd them deeply in her heart: How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! O Proteus! let this habit make thee blush: Be thou asham'd, that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment; if shame live In a disguise of love.

It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,

Women to change their shapes, than men their minds.

Pro. Than men their minds: 'tis true. O heaven!

were man

But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all

the sins:

Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins.
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
More fresh in Julia's, with a constant eye?
Val. Come, come, a hand from either.

Let me be blest to make this happy close:
"Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

5

Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for

ever.

Jul. And I mine.

Enter Outlaws, with DUKE and THURIO. Out. A prize! a prize! a prize!

Val. Forbear: forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke.

Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine.

Duke.
Sir Valentine!
Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death.
Come not within the measure of my wrath:
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands:
Take but possession of her with a touch.
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, 1.
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not:

I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,

I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

And think thee worthy of an empress' love.
Know then, I here forget all former griefs.
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again,
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe.-Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd:
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her.
Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me
happy.

I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

Duke. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,

Are men endued with worthy qualities:
Forgive them what they have committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their exile.
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

Duke. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and

thee:

Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts.
Come; let us go: we will include all jars
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.

Val. And as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile. What think you of this page, my lord?

Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him: he blushes.

Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.

Duke. What mean you by that saying?
Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned.-
Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance, but to hear
The story of your loves discovered:

That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.

33

[Exeunt.