if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest.
Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd.
I take your offer, and will liue with you,
Prouided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poore passengers.
No, we detest such vile base practises.
Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,
And show thee all the Treasure we haue got;
Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.
Already haue I bin false to Valentine,
And now I must be as vniust to Thurio,
Vnder the colour of commending him,
I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.
But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vowes,
She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne
In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd;
And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips,
The least whereof would quell a louers hope:
Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue,
The more it growes, and fawneth on her still;
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And giue some euening Musique to her eare.
How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?
I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue
Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe.
I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here.
Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence.
I, Siluia, for your sake
I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while.
Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly;
I pray you why is it?
Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry.
Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where
you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that
you ask'd for.
But shall I heare him speake.
I that you shall.
That will be Musique.
Is he among these?
I: but peace, let's heare'm.
Song. Who is Siluia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she,
The heauen such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty liues with kindnesse:
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Siluia, let vs sing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Vpon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring.
How now? are you sadder then you were before;
How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not.
You mistake: the Musitian likes me not.
Why, my pretty youth?
He plaies false (father.)
How, out of tune on the strings.
Not so: but yet
So false that he grieues my very heart-strings.
You haue a quicke eare.
I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart.
I perceiue you delight not in Musique.
Not a whit, when it iars so.
Harke, what fine change is in the Musique.
I: that change is the spight.
You would haue them alwaies play but one thing.
I would alwaies haue one play but one thing.
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on,
Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?
I tell you what Launce his man told me,
He lou'd her out of all nicke.
Where is Launce?
Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his
Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his
Peace, stand aside, the company parts.
Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Where meete we?
At Saint Gregories well
Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship.
I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen)
Who is that that spake?
One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth,
You would quickly learne to know him by his voice.
Sir Protheus, as I take it.
Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant.
What's your will?
That I may compasse yours.
You haue your wish: my will is euen this,
That presently you hie you home to bed:
Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man:
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes?
Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends:
For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare)
I am so farre from granting thy request,
That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite;
And by and by intend to chide my selfe,
Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee.
I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady,
But she is dead.
'Twere false, if I should speake it;
For I am sure she is not buried.
Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend
Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse)
I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?