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Part 23

The Two Gentlemen of Verona · William Shakespeare — chapter 23 of 27 · ~1,181 words · public domain

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Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe, Or nere returne againe into my sight. Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here; A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame: Sebastian, I haue entertained thee, Partly that I haue neede of such a youth, That can with some discretion doe my businesse: For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt; But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour, Which (if my Augury deceiue me not) Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth: Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee. Go presently, and take this Ring with thee, Deliuer it to Madam Siluia; She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me

Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token: She is dead belike? 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 passing 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-glasse, 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, passioning 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 glasse, 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 god. 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.

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