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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.

Jul. [Aside.]

If ’twere a substance, you would sure deceive it,

And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Sil.

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.

Pro.

As wretches have o’ernight

That wait for execution in the morn.

[Exeunt Proteus and Silvia.]

Jul. Host, will you go?

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.

Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?

Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think ’tis almost day.

Jul.

Not so; but it hath been the longest night

That e’er I watch’d, and the most heaviest.

[Exeunt.]

¶

Enter Eglamour.

Egl.