Shakespeare's First Folio Part 33

Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues

Iul. Alas

Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?

Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her

Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?

Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well As you doe loue your Lady Siluia: She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue, You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.

'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary: And thinking on it, makes me cry alas

Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady, I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture: Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber, Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie

Iul. How many women would doe such a message?

Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs; Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him That with his very heart despiseth me?

Because he loues her, he despiseth me, Because I loue him, I must pitty him.

This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me, To binde him to remember my good will: And now am I (vnhappy Messenger) To plead for that, which I would not obtaine; To carry that, which I would haue refus'd; To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.

I am my Masters true confirmed Loue, But cannot be true seruant to my Master, Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.

Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly, As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.

Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia

Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?

Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patience To heare me speake the message I am sent on

Sil. From whom?

Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam

Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?

Iul. I, Madam

Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there, Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me, One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow

Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter; Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not; This is the Letter to your Ladiship

Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe

Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me

Sil. There, hold: I will not looke vpon your Masters lines: I know they are stuft with protestations, And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake As easily, as I doe teare his paper

Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring

Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me; For I haue heard him say a thousand times, His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure: Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring, Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong

Iul. She thankes you

Sil. What sai'st thou?

Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her: Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much

Sil. Do'st thou know her?

Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.

To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times

Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?

Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow

Sil. Is she not pa.s.sing faire?

Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is, When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well; She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.

But since she did neglect her looking-gla.s.se, And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away, The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes, And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face, That now she is become as blacke as I

Sil. How tall was she?

Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost, When all our Pageants of delight were plaid, Our youth got me to play the womans part, And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne, Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements, As if the garment had bin made for me: Therefore I know she is about my height, And at that time I made her weepe a good, For I did play a lamentable part.

(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, pa.s.sioning For Thesus periury, and vniust flight; Which I so liuely acted with my teares: That my poore Mistris moued therewithall, Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow

Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth) Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left; I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words: Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell

Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.

A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.

I hope my Masters suit will be but cold, Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.

Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe: Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine Were full as louely, as is this of hers; And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little, Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.

Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow; If that be all the difference in his loue, Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig: Her eyes are grey as gla.s.se, and so are mine.

I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high: What should it be that he respects in her, But I can make respectiue in my selfe?

If this fond Loue, were not a blinded G.o.d.

Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp, For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme, Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd; And were there sence in his Idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead.

Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow, I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes, To make my Master out of loue with thee.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.

Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie, And now it is about the very houre That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me, She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres, Vnlesse it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition.

See where she comes: Lady a happy euening

Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure) Out at the Posterne by the Abbey wall; I feare I am attended by some Spies

Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off, If we recouer that, we are sure enough.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.

Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit?

Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person