And on the justice of my flying hence
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company and go with me;
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may
venture to depart alone.
EGLAMOUR. Madam, I pity much your grievances;
Which since I know they
virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you,
Recking as little what betideth me
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?
SILVIA. This evening coming.
EGLAMOUR. Where shall I meet you?
SILVIA. At Friar Patrick's cell,
Where I intend holy confession.
EGLAMOUR. I will not fail your ladyship. Good
morrow, gentle lady.
SILVIA. Good
morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
Under SILVIA'S Window
Enter LAUNCE with his dog
LAUNCE. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you,
it goes hard- one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I sav'd
from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and
sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say
precisely 'Thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver him
as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no
sooner into the dining-
chamber, but he steps me to her trencher
and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur
cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should
say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it
were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to
take a fault upon me that he did, I think
verily he had been
hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't. You shall
judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four
gentleman-like dogs under the Duke's table; he had not been
there, bless the mark, a pissing while but all the
chamber smelt
him. 'Out with the dog' says one; 'What cur is that?' says
another; 'Whip him out' says the third; 'Hang him up' says the
Duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it
was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs.
'Friend,' quoth I 'you mean to whip the dog.' 'Ay, marry do I'
quoth he. 'You do him the more wrong,' quoth I; "twas I did the
thing you wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of
the
chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay,
I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stock for puddings he hath
stol'n,
otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the
pillory for geese he hath kill'd,
otherwise he had suffer'd
for't. Thou think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick
you serv'd me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia. Did not I bid
thee still mark me and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave
up my leg and make water against a
gentlewoman's farthingale?
Didst thou ever see me do such a trick?
Enter PROTEUS, and JULIA in boy's clothes
PROTEUS. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
And will employ thee in some service
presently.
JULIA. In what you please; I'll do what I can.
PROTEUS..I hope thou wilt. [To LAUNCE] How now, you whoreson
peasant!
Where have you been these two days loitering?
LAUNCE. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.
PROTEUS. And what says she to my little jewel?
LAUNCE. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish
thanks is good enough for such a present.
PROTEUS. But she receiv'd my dog?
LAUNCE. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back
again.
PROTEUS. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
LAUNCE. Ay, sir; the other
squirrel was stol'n from me by the
hangman's boys in the market-place; and then I offer'd her mine
own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and
therefore the gift
the greater.
PROTEUS. Go, get thee hence and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say. Stayest thou to vex me here? Exit LAUNCE
A slave that still an end turns me to shame!
Sebastian, I have
entertained thee
Partly that I have need of such a youth
That can with some
discretion do my business,
For 'tis no
trusting to yond foolish lout,
But
chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour,
Which, if my augury
deceive me not,
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth;
Therefore, know thou, for this I
entertain thee.
Go
presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to Madam Silvia-
She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me.
JULIA. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token.
She is dead, belike?
PROTEUS. Not so; I think she lives.
JULIA. Alas!
PROTEUS. Why dost thou cry 'Alas'?
JULIA. I cannot choose
But pity her.
PROTEUS. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
JULIA. Because
methinks that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love:
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry 'Alas!'
PROTEUS. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal
This letter. That's her
chamber. Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her
heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my
chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and
solitary. Exit PROTEUS
JULIA. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast
entertain'd
A fox to be the
shepherd 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 am I,
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 myself.
Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter SILVIA, attended
Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
SILVIA. What would you with her, if that I be she?
JULIA. If you be she, I do
entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
SILVIA. From whom?
JULIA. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
SILVIA. O, he sends you for a picture?
JULIA. Ay, madam.
SILVIA. Ursula, bring my picture there.
Go, give your master this. Tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his
chamber than this shadow.
JULIA. Madam, please you 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 ladyship.
SILVIA. I pray thee let me look on that again.
JULIA. It may not be; good madam,
pardon me.
SILVIA. There, hold!
I will not look upon your master's lines.
I know they are stuff'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths, which he wul break
As easily as I do tear his paper.
JULIA. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
SILVIA. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
JULIA. She thanks you.
SILVIA. What say'st thou?
JULIA. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
Poor
gentlewoman, my master wrongs her much.
SILVIA. Dost thou know her?
JULIA. Almost as well as I do know myself.
To think upon her woes, I do protest
That I have wept a hundred several times.
SILVIA. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath
forsook her.
JULIA. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow.
SILVIA. Is she not passing fair?
JULIA. 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 since she did
neglect her looking-glass
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.
SILVIA. How tall was she?
JULIA. About my
stature; for at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown;
Which served me as fit, by all men's 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
unjust flight;
Which I so
lively acted with my tears
That my poor
mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept
bitterly; and would I might be dead
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.
SILVIA. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
Alas, poor lady,
desolate and left!
I weep myself, 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.
Farewell. Exit SILVIA with ATTENDANTS
JULIA. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.
A
virtuousgentlewoman, mild and beautiful!
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,