Act 4. Scene II - Page 2

tune on the strings?

JULIA
Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very
heart-strings.

Host
You have a quick ear.

JULIA
Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart.

Host
I perceive you delight not in music.

JULIA
Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host
Hark, what fine change is in the music!

JULIA
Ay, that change is the spite.

Host
You would have them always play but one thing?

JULIA
I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on
Often resort unto this gentlewoman?

Host
I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he loved
her out of all nick.

JULIA
Where is Launce?

Host
Gone to seek his dog; which tomorrow, by his
master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

JULIA
Peace! stand aside: the company parts.

PROTEUS
Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so plead
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

THURIO
Where meet we?

PROTEUS
At Saint Gregory's well.

THURIO
Farewell.

Exeunt THURIO and Musicians

Enter SILVIA above

PROTEUS
Madam, good even to your ladyship.

SILVIA
I thank you for your music, gentlemen.
Who is that that spake?

PROTEUS
One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.

SILVIA
Sir Proteus, as I take it.

PROTEUS
Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

SILVIA
What's your will?

PROTEUS
That I may compass yours.

SILVIA
You have your wish; my will is even this:
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man!
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceived 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.

PROTEUS
I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady;
But she is dead.

JULIA
[Aside] 'Twere false, if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

SILVIA
Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend
Survives; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd: and art thou not ashamed
To wrong him with thy importunacy?

PROTEUS
I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

SILVIA
And so suppose am I; for in his grave
Assure thyself my love is buried.