SILVIA Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour,

But think upon my grief – a lady’s grief –

And on the justice of my flying hence

To keep me from a most unholy match,

Which God and fortune still rewards with plagues.

I do desire thee, even from a heart

As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,

To bear me company and go with me.

If not, to hide what I have said to thee

That I may venture to depart alone.           (4.3.26-36)

Silvia’s covering all bases, and not letting Sir Eglamour get a word in—she’s thought this through, and is also desperate: urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour—don’t tell me how cross he’ll be, I mean, duh, I know—but think upon my grief—a lady’s grief—focus on my sorrow. Lady here could have a slight class implication; she’s very much appealing to Eglamour as a gentleman, and she wants to emphasise the propriety in what she’s proposing, in so far as is possible. And think upon the justice of my flying hence to keep me from a most unholy match which God and fortune still rewards with plagues. I can’t marry Thurio; it’s not just that I love Valentine—it’s that it’d be doomed from the start, unlucky, displeasing to God, me marrying Thurio against my will. I’m engaged to Valentine! We’re as good as married! It’d be wrong, unlawful, sinful for me to marry anyone else! (As in the later Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare is reflecting contemporary debates, both legal and theological, about marriage, the roles of consent, parental choice, and love.) And so I do desire thee, even from a heart as full of sorrows as the sea of sands—please, please, I’m desperate here, beset on every side—to bear me company and go with me. Please come with me? But, if not, if you can’t bring yourself to do such a thing, to hide what I have said to thee that I may venture to depart alone. At least do that for me: don’t betray my confidence, even if you don’t feel you can be my escort. Let me slip away by myself.