Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue
Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried
Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth
Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine
Iul. He heard not that
Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe:
For since the substance of your perfect selfe
Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow, will I make true loue
Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am
Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile send it:
And so, good rest
Pro. As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne
Iul. Host, will you goe?
Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe
Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?
Ho. Marry, at my house:
Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day