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!

Farewell.

[Exit Silvia, 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 grey 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.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,
That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.

[Exit.

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.

Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.

Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loaths.

Thu. What says she to my face?
Pro. She says, it is a fair one.

Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is black.

Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old say

ing is,

Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. Jul. 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies'

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.
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!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
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 chace: 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,

To hazard life, and rescue you from him
That wou'd 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 a while. [Aside.
Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am!
Pro. Unhappy, were you, madam, ere I came;
But, by my coming, I 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 death,

Would I not undergo for one calm look?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd,
When women cammot love where they're belov❜d.
Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's
belov'd.

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

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,
As e'er I did commit.
Val.
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 pleas'd;
By penitence the Eternal wrath's appeas'd:-
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.
Jul. O me, unhappy!
Pro. Look to the boy.

[Faints.

Val. Why, boy! why wag! how now? what is the matter?

Pro. How! let me see: Why this is the ring I gave to Julia. Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook; This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

[Shows another ring. Pro. But, how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart,

I gave this unto Julia.

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 aslam'd, that I have took upon me
Such an immodest rayment; 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: Q

heaven! were man

But constant, he were perfect: that one error Fills him with faults; makes him run through all sins:

Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins:
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;

Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. Val. Thurio give back, or else embrace thy death;

Come not within the measure of my wrath:
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,
And leave her on such slight conditions.-
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think the 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 me happy.

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 boy.

Duke. What mean you by that saying?

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.

Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Athens. A room in the palace of Theseus. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants.

The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, oh, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights;

Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

The.
Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals,
The pale companion is not for our pomp.-
[Exit Philostrate.
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.