Chapter: SCENE IV.

Under SILVIA'S Window

Enter LAUNCE with his dog

  LAUNCE. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look
you,
    it goes hard- one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I
sav'd
    from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and
    sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say
    precisely 'Thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver
him
    as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no
    sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her
trencher
    and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur
    cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one
should
    say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it
    were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he,
to
    take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been
    hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't. You
shall
    judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or
four
    gentleman-like dogs under the Duke's table; he had not been
    there, bless the mark, a pissing while but all the chamber
smelt
    him. 'Out with the dog' says one; 'What cur is that?' says
    another; 'Whip him out' says the third; 'Hang him up' says
the
    Duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew
it
    was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs.
    'Friend,' quoth I 'you mean to whip the dog.' 'Ay, marry do
I'
    quoth he. 'You do him the more wrong,' quoth I; "twas I did
the
    thing you wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out
of
    the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant?
Nay,
    I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stock for puddings he hath
    stol'n, otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the
    pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd
    for't. Thou think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the
trick
    you serv'd me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia. Did not I
bid
    thee still mark me and do as I do? When didst thou see me
heave
    up my leg and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale?
    Didst thou ever see me do such a trick?

               Enter PROTEUS, and JULIA in boy's clothes

  PROTEUS. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well,
    And will employ thee in some service presently.
  JULIA. In what you please; I'll do what I can.
  PROTEUS..I hope thou wilt.  [To LAUNCE]  How now, you whoreson
      peasant!
    Where have you been these two days loitering?
  LAUNCE. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade
me.
  PROTEUS. And what says she to my little jewel?
  LAUNCE. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you
currish
    thanks is good enough for such a present.
  PROTEUS. But she receiv'd my dog?
  LAUNCE. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back
    again.
  PROTEUS. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
  LAUNCE. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stol'n from me by the
    hangman's boys in the market-place; and then I offer'd her
mine
    own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the
gift
    the greater.
  PROTEUS. Go, get thee hence and find my dog again,
    Or ne'er return again into my sight.
    Away, I say. Stayest thou to vex me here?        Exit LAUNCE
    A slave that still an end turns me to shame!
    Sebastian, I have entertained thee
    Partly that I have need of such a youth
    That can with some discretion do my business,
    For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout,
    But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour,
    Which, if my augury deceive me not,
    Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth;
    Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee.
    Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
    Deliver it to Madam Silvia-
    She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me.
  JULIA. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token.
    She is dead, belike?
  PROTEUS. Not so; I think she lives.
  JULIA. Alas!
  PROTEUS. Why dost thou cry 'Alas'?
  JULIA. I cannot choose
    But pity her.
  PROTEUS. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?
  JULIA. Because methinks that she lov'd you as well
    As you do love your lady Silvia.
    She dreams on him that has forgot her love:
    You dote on her that cares not for your love.
    'Tis pity love should be so contrary;
    And thinking on it makes me cry 'Alas!'
  PROTEUS. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal
    This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my lady
    I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
    Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
    Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.      Exit PROTEUS
  JULIA. How many women would do such a message?
    Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast entertain'd
    A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs.
    Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him
    That with his very heart despiseth me?
    Because he loves her, he despiseth me;
    Because I love him, I must pity him.
    This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
    To bind him to remember my good will;
    And now am I, unhappy messenger,
    To plead for that which I would not obtain,
    To carry that which I would have refus'd,
    To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.
    I am my master's true confirmed love,
    But cannot be true servant to my master
    Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
    Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly
    As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.

                     Enter SILVIA, attended

    Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean
    To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.
  SILVIA. What would you with her, if that I be she?
  JULIA. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
    To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
  SILVIA. From whom?
  JULIA. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.
  SILVIA. O, he sends you for a picture?
  JULIA. Ay, madam.
  SILVIA. Ursula, bring my picture there.
    Go, give your master this. Tell him from me,
    One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
    Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
  JULIA. Madam, please you peruse this letter.
    Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd
    Deliver'd you a paper that I should not.
    This is the letter to your ladyship.
  SILVIA. I pray thee let me look on that again.
  JULIA. It may not be; good madam, pardon me.
  SILVIA. There, hold!
    I will not look upon your master's lines.
    I know they are stuff'd with protestations,
    And full of new-found oaths, which he wul break
    As easily as I do tear his paper.
  JULIA. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
  SILVIA. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
    For I have heard him say a thousand times
    His Julia gave it him at his departure.
    Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
    Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
  JULIA. She thanks you.
  SILVIA. What say'st thou?
  JULIA. I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
    Poor gentlewoman, my master wrongs her much.
  SILVIA. Dost thou know her?
  JULIA. Almost as well as I do know myself.
    To think upon her woes, I do protest
    That I have wept a hundred several times.
  SILVIA. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.
  JULIA. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow.
  SILVIA. Is she not passing fair?
  JULIA. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is.
    When she did think my master lov'd her well,
    She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
    But since she did neglect her looking-glass
    And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
    The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks
    And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
    That now she is become as black as I.
  SILVIA. How tall was she?
  JULIA. About my stature; for at Pentecost,
    When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
    Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
    And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown;
    Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
    As if the garment had been made for me;
    Therefore I know she is about my height.
    And at that time I made her weep a good,
    For I did play a lamentable part.
    Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning
    For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight;
    Which I so lively acted with my tears
    That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
    Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead
    If I in thought felt not her very sorrow.
  SILVIA. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
    Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!
    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 lov'st her.
    Farewell.                        Exit SILVIA with ATTENDANTS
  JULIA. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her.
    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 flatter'd 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 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
    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, lov'd, and ador'd!
    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 us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
    I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
    To make my master out of love with thee.                Exit

 Lance and his dog, Crab, are on stage. Lance tells the audience a story about how Crab was caught "a pissing" under the Duke's table and Lance took the blame for it so Crab wouldn't be whipped. He also reveals that he once took the blame for Crab when the dog killed a neighbor's geese. Lance begs Crab not pee on any "gentlewoman's" skirt, which seems pretty reasonable. Wow. Proteus is really off the mark gifting this dog to his crush. Proteus and Julia enter. Brain Snack: Julia is Shakespeare's first cross-dressing heroine, so we guess we could call her the grandmother of other gender-bending characters that follow in her footsteps, like Viola from Twelfth Night, Rosalind from As You Like It, and Portia & Nerissa from The Merchant of Venice. Proteus offers "Sebastian" a job as his errand boy. Proteus then questions Lance, who was supposed to have delivered a little lap dog to Silvia as a gift. Okay, that makes more sense. Proteus wanted Lance to give Silvia a cute little Lhasa Apso or something--not Crab. Lance just messed it all up. So Proteus isn't a total bonehead. He's just a jerk. It turns out that Lance lost the little dog and tried to offer up Crab instead. Silvia refused the gift and sent the dog back. Proteus tells Lance to scram and then asks "Sebastian" to deliver a ring to Silvia. "Sebastian" begins to cry and says Proteus must not have loved the woman who originally gave him the ring. "Sebastian" goes on to say that he feels sorry for the "lady" who gave Proteus the ring--she probably loves Proteus as much as Proteus loves Silvia. Proteus says, "Whatever. Deliver the ring and this letter to Silvia." And leaves. Poor Julia feels torn. She doesn't see how she can possibly go through with the errand because she's still in love with Proteus. Silvia enters and begins to chat with "Sebastian." "Sebastian" hands over a love letter and then immediately asks for it back, explaining that "he" gave Silvia the wrong letter. "Sebastian" gives Silvia the letter intended for her and Silvia promptly tears it up. She also refuses to take the ring because she knows that it was given to Proteus by Julia. Silvia feels pity for Julia and asks "Sebastian" if he knows her. "Sebastian" says that, yes, "he" knows Julia - she used to be very pretty but now that Proteus has dumped her, she's not looking or feeling so hot. Silvia wants to know more about Julia, so "Sebastian" says "he" and Julia are the same height. In fact, "he" once wore her clothes when "he" played the role of a woman, Ariadne, in a church play. "Sebastian's" performance of this "woman's part" was so good that it moved Julia to tears. Brain Snack: Ariadne is a figure from Greek mythology. She's famous for hanging herself after her boyfriend, Theseus, dumped her. Now, we know that Julia/Sebastian never played the role of Ariadne in a play. This made up story is Julia's only way of expressing her sadness over the loss of Proteus. Silvia is so moved by "Sebastian's" story that she gives the pageboy a bag full of money before she leaves. Julia is left alone on stage to gaze at the picture Silvia has left behind for Proteus. Poor Julia admires Silvia's beauty and wonders if Proteus would love her more if she looked more like Silvia. Then Julia says that it's a good thing Silvia turned out to be so nice - otherwise, she would have "scratched out" her eyes.

