Part 38 (1/2)

_Proteus._ 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!

_Pro._ I'll force thee yield to my desire.

_Valentine._ Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fas.h.i.+on!

_Pro._ Valentine!

_Val._ Thou common friend, that's without faith or love, For such is a friend now! Treacherous man, Thou hast beguil'd 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 now, when one's 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!

_Pro._ 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.

_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's wrath's appeas'd; And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

_Julia._ O me unhappy! (_Swoons._)

_Pro._ Look to the boy.

_Val._ Why, boy! why, wag! how now! What's the matter? Look up; speak.

_Jul._ O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliver a ring to Madame Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done.

_Pro._ Where is that ring, boy?

_Jul._ Here 'tis; this is it.

_Pro._ How? let me see!

Why this is the ring I gave to Julia.

_Jul._ O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook;

_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 'em deeply in her heart.

How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!

O Proteus let this habit make thee blus.h.!.+

Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment, if shame live In a disguise of love.