ul._ It may not be; good madam, pardon me.

_Sil._ There, hold!
I will not look upon your master's lines:
I know they are stuff'd with protestations, 125
And full of new-found oaths; which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.

_Jul._ Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.

_Sil._ The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times 130
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger have profaned the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

_Jul._ She thanks you.

_Sil._ What say'st thou? 135

_Jul._ I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much.

_Sil._ Dost thou know her?

_Jul._ Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes I do protest 140
That I have wept a hundred several times.

_Sil._ Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.

_Jul._ I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow.

_Sil._ Is she not passing fair?

_Jul._ She hath been fairer, madam, than she is: 145
When she did think my master loved her well,
She, in my judgement, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks, 150
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

_Sil._ How tall was she?

_Jul._ About my stature: for, at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd, 155
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 judgements,
As if the garment had been made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height. 160
And at that time I made her weep agood,
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, 165
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

_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 mi