_Sil._ She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! 170 I weep myself to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purse: I give thee this For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lovest her. Farewell. [_Exit Silvia, with attendants._ _Jul._ And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. 175 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, 180 If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers: And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: 185 If that be all the difference in his love, I'll get me such a colour'd 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, 190 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 worshipp'd, kiss'd, loved, and adored! 193 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 scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, 200 To make my master out of love with thee! [_Exit._ Notes: IV, 4.