PROTEUS.
One, lady, if you knew his pure heart’s truth,
You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.
SILVIA.
Sir Proteus, as I take it.
PROTEUS.
Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
SILVIA.
What’s your will?
PROTEUS.
That I may compass yours.
SILVIA.
You have your wish. My will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man,
Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceived so many with thy vows?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,
And by and by intend to chide myself
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
PROTEUS.
I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady,
But she is dead.
JULIA.
[Aside.] ’Twere false, if I should speak it,
For I am sure she is not buried.
SILVIA.
Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend
Survives, to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betrothed. And art thou not ashamed
To wrong him with thy importunacy?
PROTEUS.
I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.