The Plays of William Shakspeare

Your message done, lie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.

[Exit PROTEUS.
Jul. 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 I will 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.
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil. From whom?

Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam.
Sil. O!he sends you for a picture?
Jul. Ay, madam.

Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.

[Picture brought. Go, give your master this: tell him from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow. Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter. Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd Delivered you a paper that I should not⚫ This is the letter to your ladystrip.

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 are stuff"d with protestations,

And full of new-found oaths; which he will break, Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow :

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

Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus 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 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.
Sil. How tall was she?

Jul. 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 judgment,
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!

Sil. She is beholden 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 ner.
Farewell.
[Exit SILVIA.

Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you
know her.

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
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 myself too much.

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,

me;

For, I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger hath profan'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 myself:
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept an hundred several times.

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.

[Eri

SCENE I.-The same. An Abber.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

ACT V.

Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky: And now, it is about the very hour

That Silvia, at 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 spur their expedition.

Enter SILVIA.

See where she comes: Lady, a happy evening!
Sil. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour!
Out at the postern by the abbey-wall;

I fear, I am attended by some spies.

Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off: If we recover that, we are sure enough.

SCENE II.—The same.

[Exeunt.

An Apartment 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.

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, suck pearls as put out ladies' eyes; For I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside. 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.

[Aside.

Thu. What says she to my valour?

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. [Erit.
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.

[Eru.

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 out-run 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 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 chase :
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.

love.

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 wou'd have forc'd your honour and your 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.

Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [Aside. Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am! Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; But, by my coming, I have made you happy.

Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy.

Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your pre

sence.

[Aside.

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 had'st 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?

Sil.

In love,

All men but Proteus.

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. I'll force thee yield to my desire. Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; Thou friend of an ill fashion!

Pro.

Valentine!

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

(For such is a friend now,) treacherous man!
Thou has 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: O time, most curst!
'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst.
Pro. My shame and guilt confound me. -
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow

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Pro. Than men their minds! 'tis true; O hea ven! were man

But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all
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.
Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for

thee;

Thu. Sır Valentine, I care not for her, I; Forgive them what they have committed here,
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger

And let them be recall d from their exíle :
His body for a girl that loves him not :

They are reform’d, civil, full of good,
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou, Duke. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.

Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,

Come, let us go; we will include all jars
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,

With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
And think thee worthy of an empress' love.

Val. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,

With our discourse to make your grace to smile:
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.

What think you of this page, my lord ?
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,

Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him; he
To which I thus subscribe, — sir Valentine,

blushes.
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd;

Val. I warrant you, my lord; more grace than boy.
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. Duke. What mean you by that saying ?
Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
happy.

That

you will wonder, what hath fortuned.
ī now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance, but to hear
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

The story of your loves discovered :
Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it bo. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;

Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withai, One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
Are men endued with worthy qualities;

(Ereusu.

ACT I.

SCENE I. · Windsor. Before Page's House. Enter Justice SHALLOW, SLENDER, and Sir HUGH

EVANS.

Shal. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it: if he were twenty sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire.

Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, and coram.

Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum. Slen. Ay, and ratolorum too; and a gentleman born, master parson; who writes himself armigero; in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero.

Shal. Ay, that we do; and have done any time these three hundred years.

Slen. All his successors, gone before him, have done't; and all his ancestors, that come after him, may they may give the dozen white luces in their coat.

Eva. Yes, py'r-lady; if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures: but this is ail one: If sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and compromises between you.

Shal. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot.

Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot; there is no fear of Got in a riot: the Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your vizaments in that.

Shal. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it.

Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another device in my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with it: There is Anne Page, which is daughter to master George Page, which is pretty virginity.

Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman.

Eva. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon his death's-bed, (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old: it were a goot motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between master Abraham, and mistress Anne Page.

Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound?

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