THU. Whom? Silvia?

PRO. Ay, Silvia,-for your fake.

THU. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, Let's tune, and to it luftily a while.

Enter Host, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes. HOST. Now, my young gueft! methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, why is it?

Jui. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. HOST. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you fhall hear mufick, and fee the gentleman that you afk'd for.

JUL. But fhall I hear him speak?

HOST. Ay, that you fhall.

HOST. Hark! hark!

JUL. That will be mufick.

JUL. Is he among these?

HOST. Ay: but peace, let's hear 'em.

SONG.

Who is Silvia? what is fhe,

That all our fwains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wife is fhe;

The heavens fuch grace did lend her,

That he might admired be.

Is fhe kind, as he is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us fing,

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To ber let us garlands bring.

[Mufick plays.

HOST. How now? are you fadder than you were before? How do you, man? the mufick likes you not.

JUL. You mistake; the musician likes me not.
HOST.. Why, my pretty youth?

JUL. He plays false, father.

HOST. How? out of tune on the strings?

JUL. Not fo; but yet so falfe, that he grieves my very heart-ftrings.

HOST. You have a quick ear.

JUL. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a flow heart.

HOST. I perceive, you delight not in musick.

JUL. Not a whit, when it jars fo.

Hos T. Hark, what fine change is in the mufick!
JUL. Ay; that change is the fpite.

HOST. You would have them always play but one thing? JUL. I would always have one play but one thing. But, hoft, doth this fir Proteus, that we talk on, often refort unto this gentlewoman?

HOST. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, he loved her out of all nick.

JUL. Where is Launce?

HOST. Gone to feek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master's command, he must carry for a prefent to his lady.

JUL. Peace! ftand afide; the company parts.
PRO. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will fo plead,
That
you shall fay, my cunning drift excels.

THU. Where meet we?

PRO. At faint Gregory's well.

THU. Farewell.

[Exeunt THURIO and Muficians,

SILVIA appears above, at her window.

PRO. Madam, good even to your ladyship.

SIL. I thank you for your mufick, gentlemen: Who is that, that spake?

PRO. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.

SIL. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

PRO. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your fervant.
SIL. What is your will?

PRO. That I may compass yours.

SIL. You have your wifh; my will is even this,-,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou fubtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!
Think'ft thou, I am fo fhallow, fo conceitlefs,
To be feduced by thy flattery,

That haft deceiv'd fo many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me,-by this pale queen of night I fwear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I defpife thee for thy wrongful fuit;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

PRO. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But fhe is dead.

JUL. 'Twere false, if I should speak it ;

For, I am fure, fhe is not buried.

[Afide.

SIL. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,

I am betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importúnacy?

PRO. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
SIL. And fo, fuppofe, am I; for in his
Affure thyself, my love is buried.

grave

PRO. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.

SIL. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence ;

Or, at the least, in her's fepulchre thine.
FUL. He heard not that.

PRO. Madam, if your heart be fo obdúrate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll figh and weep:
For, fince the fubftance of your perfect felf
Is elfe devoted, I am but a fhadow;

And to your shadow will I make true love.

[Afide.

JUL. If 'twere a fubftance, you would, fure, deceive it, And make it but a fhadow, as I am.

SIL. I am very loth to be your idol, fir;

But, fince your falfhood fhall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it :
And fo, good rest.

PRO. As wretches have o'er-night,

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Afide.

[Exeunt PROTEUS; and SILVIA, from above.

JUL. Hoft, will you go?

HOST. By my hallidom, I was fast asleep.

JUL. Pray you, where lies fir Proteus?

HOST. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think, 'tis almost day.

JUL. Not fo; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest.

SCENE III. The fame.

Enter EGLAMOUR.

EGL. This is the hour that madam Silvia

Entreated me to call, and know her mind;
There's fome great matter she'd employ me in.—

Madam, madam!

[Exeunt,

SILVIA appears above, at her window.

SIL, Who calls?

EGL. Your fervant, and

your friend;

One that attends your ladyship's command.

SIL. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-morrow.
EGL. As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyfhip's impose,

I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.

SIL. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not, I flatter, for, I fwear, I do not,)
Valiant, wife, remorfeful, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;

my

Nor how father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very foul abhorr❜d.
Thyfelf haft lov'd; and I have heard thee fay,
No grief did ever come fo near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whofe grave thou vowd'ft pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,

To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do defire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a moft unholy match,

Which heaven and fortune ftill reward with plagues.
I do defire thee, even from a heart

As full of forrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go

with me: