Act 4. Scene II

SCENE II. Milan. Outside the DUKE's palace, under SILVIA's chamber.

Enter PROTEUS
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 loved:
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 music to her ear.

Enter THURIO and Musicians

THURIO
How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us?

PROTEUS
Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.

THURIO
Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.

PROTEUS
Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence.

THURIO
Who? Silvia?

PROTEUS
Ay, Silvia; for your sake.

THURIO
I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile.

Enter, at a distance, Host, and JULIA in boy's clothes

Host
Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly: I
pray you, why is it?

JULIA
Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

Host
Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where
you shall hear music and see the gentleman that you asked for.

JULIA
But shall I hear him speak?

Host
Ay, that you shall.

JULIA
That will be music.

Music plays

Host
Hark, hark!

JULIA
Is he among these?

Host
Ay: but, peace! let's hear 'em.
SONG.
Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Is she kind as she 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 sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

Host
How now! are you sadder than you were before? How
do you, man? the music likes you not.

JULIA
You mistake; the musician likes me not.

Host
Why, my pretty youth?

JULIA
He plays false, father.

Host
How? out of