Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Fro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as
As you do love your lady Silvia :
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 Pro. 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 ine?
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.
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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 ladyship.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, huld.
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
As easily as I do tear his paper.
[break,
Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it
For, I have heard him say a thousand times, [me;
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.
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 for[sorrow. Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of 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 serv'd 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
ber.
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.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are gray 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 '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.
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
If we recover that, we are sure enough. [exeunt.
SCENE II. THE SAME. 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. {rounder.
Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat
Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it
Thu. What says she to my face? [loaths.
Pro. She says, it is a fair one.
[black.
Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is
Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
Jul. 'Tis true; such 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 Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.
Thu. What says she to my valour?
Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
Thu. What says she to my birth?
Pro. That you are well derived.
Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool.
Thu. Considers she my possessions?
Pro. O, ay; and pities them.
I should have scratch'd out your unseèing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee. [erit.
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.
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 reveng'd on Eglamour,
[exit.
Than for the love of reckless Silvia.
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 11I. FRONTIERS OF MANTUA. THE FOREST,
Enter Silvia and Outlaws.
Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one
Have learned me how to brook this patiently.
2 Out. Come, bring her away.
1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with 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 Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, [cave: 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 my distresses, and record my woes.
[aside. 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!
Jul. That such an ass should owe them. [aside. Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Pro. That they are out by lease.
Jul. Here comes the duke.
Duke. How now, sir Proteus? how now, Thurio? Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late?
Duke. Saw you my daughter?
Pro. Neither.
Duke. Why, then she's filed unto that peasant And Eglamour is in her company. [Valentine; 'Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
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.
Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,
(Though you respect not aught your servant doth,)
To hazard life, and rescue you from hin
That would have forc'd 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, 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 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
Would I not undergo for one calm look? [death,
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
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.
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 arm's 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!
[or love;
Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith
(For such is a friend now,) treacherous man!
Thou hast 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
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 confounds me.—
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender it here; I do as truly suffer,
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Jul. And Julia herself did give it me;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
Pro. How! Julia!
Jul. Behold her, that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd them deeply in her heart:
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!
Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me
Such an immodest raiment; if shame live
In a disguise of love:
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Women to change their shapes, than men their minds.
Pro. Than men their minds! 'tis true: 0
But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins: [all sins:
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
Jul. And I have mine.
[for ever.
Enter Outlaws, with Duke and Thurio.
Out. A prize, a prize, a prize!
Val. Forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke.
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banish'd Valentine.
Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy
Come not within the measure of my wrath; [death;
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Milan shall not behold thee. Here she stands,-
Take but possession of her with a touch,-
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love.
Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
His body for a girl, that loves him not:
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
ls nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd ; | And leave her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress' love.
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.—
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe,-Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd:
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her.
Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made
I now beseech you for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,
Are men endued with worthy qualities; Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recall'd from their exile: They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord. Duke. Thou hast prevail'd: I pardon them and thee;
Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts, Come, let us go; we will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
Val. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile: What think you of this page, my lord?
Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes.
Val. I warrant you, my lord; more grace than Duke. What mean you by that saying? [boy: Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortuned.Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance, but to hear The story of your loves discovered: That done, our day of marriage shall be yours: One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
BEFORE THE PALACE OF ANTIOCH.
To sing a song of old was sung,
From ashes antient Gower is come;
Assuming man's infirmities,
To glad your car, and please your eyes.
It hath been sung at festivals,
On ember-eves, and holy ales;
And lords and ladies of their lives
Have read it for restoratives:
'Purpose to make men glorious;
Et quo antiquius, eo melius.
If you, born in these latter times,
When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes, And that to hear an old man sing, May to your wishes pleasure bring, .I life would wish, and that I might Waste it for you, like taper-light.This city then, Antioch the great Built up for his chiefest seat; The fairest in all Syria
(I tell you what mine authors say):
This king unto him took a pheere,
Who died, and left a female heir,
So buxom, blithe, and full of face,
As heaven had lent her all his grace;
With whom the father liking took,
And her to incest did provoke :
Bad father! to entice his own,
To evil, should be done by none.
By custom, what they did begin,
Was, with long use, account no sin.
The beauty of this sinful dame
Made many princes thither frame,
To seek her as a bed-fellow,
In marriage-pleasures play-fellow :
Which to prevent, he made a law
(To keep her still, and men in awe),
That whoso ask'd her for his wife,
His riddle told not, lost his life:
So for her many a wight did die,
As yon grim looks do testify.
What now ensues, to th' judgment of your eye
I give, my cause who best can justify. [exit.
SCENE I. ANTIOCH. A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
Enter Antiochus, Pericles, and Attendants. Ant. Young prince of Tyre, you have at large The danger of the task you undertake. [received Per. I have, Antiochus, and with a soul Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, Think death no hazard, in this enterprise. [music. Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, For the embracements even of Jove himself; At whose conception (till Lucina reign'd,) Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, The senate-house of planets all did sit, To knit in her their best perfections. Enter the Daughter of Antiochus.
Per. See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of every virtue gives renown to men!
Her face the book of praises, where is read
Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
Sorrow were ever ras'd, and testy wrath
Could never be her mild companion.
Ye gods, that made me man, and sway in love,
That have inflam'd desire in my breast,
To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree,
Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
As I am son and servant to your will,
To compass such a boundless happiness!
Ant. Prince Pericles,-
Per. That would be son to great Antiochus.
Ant. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
For death-like dragons here affright thee hard
Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
A countless glory, which desert must gain:
And which, without desert, because thino eye
|