PROTEUS.
Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer.
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia, whom I loved;
And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover’s hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window,
And give some evening music to her ear.
Enter Thurio and Musicians.
THURIO.
How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us?
PROTEUS.
Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.
THURIO.
Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.
PROTEUS.
Sir, but I do, or else I would be hence.
THURIO.
Who? Silvia?
PROTEUS.
Ay, Silvia, for your sake.
THURIO.
I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile.
Enter Host and Julia in boy’s clothes, as Sebastian.