SILVIA For me – by this pale queen of night I swear –

I am so far from granting thy request

That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit,

And by and by intend to chide myself

Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.

PROTEUS       I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady,

But she is dead.

JULIA  [aside] ’Twere false if I should speak it,

For I am sure she is not buried.      (4.2.91-98)

Silvia’s not finished yet. For me—by this pale queen of night I swear—by the moon, the goddess of chastity (but also every bit as inconstant as Proteus himself, which is why Juliet forbids Romeo to swear by it)—I am so far from granting thy request, whether it’s for me to ask you to serve me, or whether (to be frank) you’re asking me for sexual favours—not in a million years, never! you must be joking—this is how far I am from indulging your pathetic propositions—I rather despise thee for thy wrongful suit—I think you’re a complete loser, and a total cad, for even daring to make such an approach to me, wrong in every possible way. And by and by I intend to chide myself—in a moment I’m going to give myself a proper talking to even for this time I spend in talking to thee. I can’t believe I’ve wasted a single moment in listening to you. GOOD NIGHT! (is implicit).

But Proteus isn’t taking no (or even anything stronger) for an answer: I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady, but she is dead. There has to be a sharp intake of breath from the audience as well as Julia: did he really just say that? Another bare-faced lie, killing off Julia—and perhaps even a bid for sympathy. I am dead girlfriend guy, please help me heal my broken heart? Julia’s reaction, of course, is the one to watch, and she sort-of turns it into a bitter joke: ’twere false if I should speak it—I’d be lying if I were to say that myself—for I am sure she is not buried. Here I am, very much alive, and very much heartbroken…