With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course :
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love ;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

*

Julia. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear :
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances of infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Lucetta. All these are servants to deceitful men.
Julia. Base men, that use them to so base effect !
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
Lucetta. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to

him ! Julia. w, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong, To bear a hard opinion of his truth; Only deserve my love, by loving him ; And presently go with me to my chamber, To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me upon my longing journey. All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation ; Only, in lieu thereof despatch me hence : Come, answer not, but to it presently ; I am impatient of my tarriance.

Valentine. And why not death, rather than living

torment?
To die, is to be banish'd from myself ;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is self from self: a deadly banishment !
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection,
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no musick in the nightingale ;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin’d, cherish’d, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom ;
Tarry I here, I but attend on death;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

ACT IV. SCENE II.

Proteus. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd :
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.

Silvia. You have your wish; my will is even this,That presently you hie you home to bed. Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man ! Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seduced by thy flattery, That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ? Return, return, and make thy love amends. For me, -by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far from granting thy request, That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ; And by and by intend to chide myself, Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

SCENE III.

Silvia. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not, I flatter, for I swear, I do not),
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish’d.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good-will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine ;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr’d.

Thyself hast lov’d; and I have heard thee say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst 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 desire 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 most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward 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.

SCENE IV.

Julia. How many women would do such a message? Alas, poor Proteus ! thou hast entertained 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.

*

*

*

*

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.

I

Silvia. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth ! Alas, poor lady! desolate and left !–

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.

ACT V. SCENE IV.

Valentine. 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;

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