Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth :-Alas, poor lady! defolate and left!

I weep myself, to think upon thy words.

Here, youth, there is my purfe; I give thee this

For thy fweet mistress' fake, because thou lov'ft her.
Farewell.

[Exit Silvia. Jul. And fhe fhall thank you for't, if e'er you know

her.

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.

I hope, my master's fuit will be but cold,
Since the refpects my miftrefs' love fo much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!.
Here is her picture: Let me fee; 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 fuch a colour'd periwig.

Her eyes are grey as glafs; and fo 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, fhadow, come, and take this fhadow up,

• cold,]-coldly received.

P fuch a colour'd periwig.]-fome falfe hair of this colour.

a her forehead's low ;]—bigh and low are here terms of commendation and contempt.

T

"And her forehead

As low as fhe would with it."

ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA, A& III, S. 3. Mef.

refpective]-refpectable.

Come, fhadow, come, and take this fhadow up,]-Julia, now but the shade of what thou wert, come and encounter this picture.

For

For 'tis thy rival. O thou fenfeless form,

Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,

'My substance should be ftatue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy miftrefs' fake,
That us'd me fo; or elfe, by Jove I vow,

I should have scratch'd out your unfeeing eyes,
To make my master out of love with thee.

[Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I

Near the Friar's Cell, in Milan.

Enter Eglamour.

Egl. The fun begins to gild the western sky;
And now it is about the very hour

That Silvia, at friar Patrick's cell, should meet me.
She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,

Unless it be to come before their time;

So much they spur their expedition.

See, where fhe comes: Lady, a happy evening.

Enter Silvia.

Sil. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey-wall;

I fear, I am attended by fome fpies.

Egl. Fear not the foreft is not three leagues off;

If we recover that, we are "fure enough.

[Exeunt.

My fubftance should be ftatue in thy ftead.]-Protheus fhould have it

as a living ftatue, inftead of this thy fenfelefs form.

fure]-fecure, fafe, out of danger.

SCENE

An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.

Enter Thurio, Protheus, and Julia.

Thu. Sir Protheus, what fays Silvia to my fuit?
Pro. Oh, fir, I find her milder than fhe was;
And yet fhe 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 fpurr'd to what it loaths.
Thu. What fays fhe to my face?

Pro. She fays, it is a fair one.

Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is black.
Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old faying is,
"Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes."
Jul. 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes;
For I had rather wink, than look on them.

Thu. How likes fhe my discourse?

Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.

[Afide.

Thu. But well, when I difcourfe of love, and peace? Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace.

Thu. What fays fhe to my valour?

Pro. Oh, fir, fhe makes no doubt of that.

[Afide.

Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. [Afide.

Thu. What fays fhe to my birth?

Pro. That you are well deriv'd.

Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool.

[Afide.

Thu. Confiders fhe my poffeffions?

W

Pro. O, ay; and pities them,

"Black men are pearls ]-" A black man is a jewel in a fair wo

man's eye." Prov.

Thu.

Thu. Wherefore?

Jul. That fuch an ass fhould owe them.
Pro. That they are out by leafe.

Jul. Here comes the duke.

Enter Duke.

[Afide.

Duke. How now, fir Protheus? how now, Thurio? Which of you faw fir Eglamour of late?

Thu. Not I.

Pro. Nor I.

Duke. Saw you my daughter?

Pro. Neither.

Duke. Why, then she's fled unto that peasant Valentine; And Eglamour is in her company.

'Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest:
Him he knew well, and guefs'd that it was fhe;
But, being mafk'd, he was not sure of it:

Befides, fhe did intend confeffion

At Patrick's cell this even; and there fhe was not:
Thefe likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently; and meet with me
Upon the rifing of the mountain foot

That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled :
Dispatch, fweet gentlemen, and follow me.

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
That flies her fortune when it follows her:
I'll after; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless Silvia.

[Exit Duke.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love,

X owe them.]-be the owner of them.

by leafe.]-let on terms of difadvantage, not in his own hands. reckless]-fcornful.

Than

Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her.
Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love,
Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love.

Out. Come, come;

[Exeunt.

Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances, than this one,
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
2 Out. Come, bring her away.

1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us; But Moyfes, and Valerius, follow him.

Go thou with her to the weft end of the wood,
There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled;
The thicket is befet, he cannot 'scape.

1 Out, Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave: Fear not; he bears an honourable mind,

And will not use a woman lawlessly.

Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee!

The Out-laws' cave in the foreft.

Enter Valentine.

Val. How ufe doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy defart, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I fit alone, unfeen of any,

And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my diftreffes, and record my woes.

a

a record]-chant, fing.

[Exeunt.

O thou,