JULIA It seems you loved 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 loved 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’. (4.4.60-71)
TENSE, and also just SAD, as Julia forces herself to ask all the hard questions: it seems you loved not her, to leave her token; you didn’t love her then, if you’re giving this ring away? But then she forestalls any possibility of an answer, she can’t bear it: she is dead belike? Is your girlfriend dead? (Which is worse, to hear Proteus say he doesn’t love her anymore, or to lie and to say that she’s dead—implying that he wishes she were, and wouldn’t care? After all, that’s what he told Silvia.) But he answers with alacrity—perhaps, or there could be a slight pause, as he reflects just for a moment on what he’s doing: not so—I think she lives. Yeah, no, so far as I know, she’s still alive. Alas! Pretty restrained as a response, but enough to pique Proteus’s curiosity: why dost thou cry ‘Alas’? What’s it to you, boy? A quick recovery from Julia: I cannot choose but pity her. I feel sorry for her, that’s all! Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? What’s it to you? (What’s Hecuba to him, sort of—although it’s mostly allowing Proteus to demonstrate his complete self-absorption and lack of empathy: what an odd idea, feeling sorry for someone you don’t even know?) And Julia at least gets an opportunity to say how she feels, albeit indirectly: because methinks that she loved you as well as you do love your Lady Silvia. Might that, at least, get through, give him pause? But Julia’s got more, and more boldly: she dreams on him that has forgot her love—oh, Julia, love!—you dote on her that cares not for your love. True, of both Proteus and Julia herself. Unrequited or rejected love, it’s a terrible thing. ’Tis pity love should be so contrary, that it never—runs smooth—and thinking on it, makes me cry ‘Alas’. That’s all. A sorry state, to love someone and not be loved back. A pity.