Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came: But by my comming, I haue made you happy

Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy

Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence

Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion, I would haue beene a breakfast to the Beast, Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me: Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine, Whose life's as tender to me as my soule, And full as much (for more there cannot be) I doe detest false periur'd Protheus: Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more

Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death Would I not vndergoe, for one calme looke: Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd

Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd: Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue) For whose deare sake, thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes, Descended into periury, to loue me, Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two, And that's farre worse then none: better haue none Then plurall faith, which is too much by one: Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend

Pro. In Loue, Who respects friend? Sil. All men but Protheus

Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words Can no way change you to a milder forme; Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end, And loue you 'gainst the nature of Loue: force ye

Sil. Oh heauen

Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire

Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion

Pro. Valentine

Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue, For such is a friend now: treacherous man, Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say I haue one friend aliue; thou wouldst disproue me: Who should be trusted, when ones right hand Is periured to the bosome? Protheus I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake: The priuate wound is deepest: oh time, most accurst. 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst? Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me: Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient Ransome for offence, I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer, As ere I did commit

Val. Then I am paid: And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest; Who by Repentance is not satisfied, Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd: By Penitence th' Eternalls wrath's appeas'd: And that my loue may appeare plaine and free, All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book