SCENE IV.-The same.

Enter LAUNCE, with his Dog.

Laun. 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 1 saved 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 presént 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, 't is 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 hanged for 't; sure as I live he had suffered for 't: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemanlike 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; "'t was 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 their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for 't: thou think'st not of this now!-Nay, I remember the trick you served ine, when I took my leave of Madam Silvia: did I not 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.

Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please; I will do what I can. Pro. I hope thou wilt.-How now, you whoreson peasant? [TO LAUNCE.

Where have you been these two days loitering? Laun. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.

Pro. And what says she to my little jewel? Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Pro. But she received my dog?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I brought him back again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman's boys in the marketplace: and then I offered her mine own; who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.

Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say! Stay'st thou to vex me here?
A slave, that still an end turns me to shame.
[Exit LAUNCE.

Sebastian, I have entertainéd thee,
Partly that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 't is no trusting to yon 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 loved me well delivered it to me

Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her token; She's dead, belike.

Pro. Not so; I think she lives.
Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry "Alas?"

Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
Jul. Because methinks that she loved you as well
you do love your lady Silvia:

As
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!"

Pro. 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.

Jul. How many women would do such a

message?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou has entertained
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs:
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very neart 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 refused;
To praise his faith, which I would have dispraised.
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 unadvised Delivered you a paper that I should not: This is the letter to your ladyship.

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 stuffed with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break
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 it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger hath profaned 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. 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 loved 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 starved the roses in her cheeks, And pinched 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 played, Our youth got me to play the woman's part, And I was trimmed in Madam Julia's gown; Which servéd 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, 't was Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, movéd 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 lovest her.
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 flattered 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 coloured 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 't is thy rival. O thou senseless form!
Thou shalt be worshipped, kissed, loved, and adored,
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 used me so; or else, by Jove, I vow
I should have scratched out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee. [Exit.

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.
Despatch, 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 revenged 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 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 hallooing and what stir is this to-day?

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 forced 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.
Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear!
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. [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
presence.
[Aside.
Sil. Had I been seizéd 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 perjured 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, 't is the curse in love, and still approved,
When women cannot love where they're beloved.
Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's
beloved.

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 hadst 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.
In love,
Who respects friends?

Sil

All men but Proteus.