A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful. I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. Alas, how love can trifle with itself! Here is her picture; let me see. 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 flattered 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 such a coloured periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass, and so 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, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worshipped, kissed, loved, and adored; And were there sense in his idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake, That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratched out your unseeing eyes To make my master out of love with thee. [_Exit._] ACT V SCENE I. Milan. An abbey Enter Eglamour. EGLAMOUR. The sun 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. Enter Silvia. See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening! SILVIA. Amen, amen. Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey wall. I fear I am attended by some spies. EGLAMOUR. Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off; If we recover that, we are sure enough. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. A room in the Duke’s palace Enter Thurio, Proteus and Julia. THURIO. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? PROTEUS. O, sir, I find her milder than she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person. THURIO. What? That my leg is too long? PROTEUS. No, that it is too little. THURIO. I’ll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder. JULIA. [_Aside_.] But love will not be spurred to what it loathes. THURIO. What says she to my face? PROTEUS. She says it is a fair one. THURIO. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. PROTEUS. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, “Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes.” JULIA. [_Aside_.] ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes, For I had rather wink than look on them. THURIO. How likes she my discourse? PROTEUS. Ill, when you talk of war. THURIO. But well when I discourse of love and peace. JULIA. [_Aside_.] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. THURIO. What says she to my valour? PROTEUS. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. JULIA. [_Aside_.] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. THURIO. What says she to my birth? PROTEUS. That you are well derived. JULIA. [_Aside_.] True, from a gentleman to a fool. THURIO. Considers she my possessions?