Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber; To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep; For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow will I make true love. JULIA. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it And make it but a shadow, as I am. SILVIA. I am very loath to be your idol, sir; But since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadows and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it; And so, good rest. PROTEUS. As wretches have o'ernight That wait for execution in the morn. Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA JULIA. Host, will you go? HOST. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. JULIA. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? HOST. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost day. JULIA. Not so; but it hath been the longest night That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. Exeunt SCENE 3. Under SILVIA'S window Enter EGLAMOUR EGLAMOUR. This is the hour that Madam Silvia Entreated me to call and know her mind; There's some great matter she'd employ me in. Madam, madam! Enter SILVIA above, at her window SILVIA. Who calls? EGLAMOUR. Your servant and your friend; One that attends your ladyship's command. SILVIA. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow! EGLAMOUR. As many, worthy lady, to yourself! According to your ladyship's impose, I am thus early come to know what service It is your pleasure to command me in. SILVIA. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman- Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not- Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd. Thou art not ignorant what dear good will I bear unto the banish'd Valentine; Nor how my father would enforce me marry Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors. Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say No grief did ever come so near thy heart As when thy lady and thy true love died, Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode; And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, I do desire thy worthy company, Upon whose faith and honour I repose. Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, And on the justice of my flying hence To keep me from a most unholy match, Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues. I do desire thee, even from a heart As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, To bear me company and go with me; If not, to hide what I have said to thee, That I may venture to depart alone. EGLAMOUR. Madam, I pity much your grievances; Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, I give consent to go along with you,