Act 5. Scene IV - Page 2

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 arms' end,
And love you 'gainst the nature of love,--force ye.

SILVIA
O heaven!

PROTEUS
I'll force thee yield to my desire.

VALENTINE
Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion!

PROTEUS
Valentine!

VALENTINE
Thou common friend, that's without faith or love,
For such is a friend now; treacherous man!
Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say
I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.
Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand
Is perjured 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 accurst,
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

PROTEUS
My shame and guilt confounds me.
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit.

VALENTINE
Then I am paid;
And once again I do receive thee honest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased.
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased:
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

JULIA
O me unhappy!

Swoons

PROTEUS
Look to the boy.

VALENTINE
Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter?
Look up; speak.

JULIA
O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring
to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.

PROTEUS
Where is that ring, boy?

JULIA
Here 'tis; this is it.

PROTEUS
How! let me see:
Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

JULIA
O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

PROTEUS
But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart
I gave this unto Julia.

JULIA
And Julia herself did give it me;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.

PROTEUS
How! Julia!

JULIA
Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!
Be thou ashamed 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.

PROTEUS
Than men their minds! 'tis true.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were