SILVIA Is she not passing fair?

JULIA  She hath been fairer, madam, than she is.

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

And pinched the lily tincture of her face,

That now she is become as black as I.        (4.4.134-142)

Isn’t Julia meant to be really beautiful? asks Silvia—is she not passing fair? Oh, she used to be—at least, she used to be more beautiful than she is now. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. She’s changed. When she did think my master loved her well she, in my judgement, was as fair as you. She was beautiful when she thought that she was loved. At least I thought so… But that’s all changed; she doesn’t seem to care what she looks like anymore. What’s the point? But since she did neglect her looking-glass—messy hair—and threw her sun-expelling mask away—no skincare routine, no sunscreen! elite early modern women sometimes wore masks when outdoors, to protect their complexions—the air hath starved the roses in her cheeks and pinched the lily tincture of her face. She’s lost her bloom; bit freckly, bit blotchy. Now she is become as black as I: she’s tanned, not a delicate rose any more. And somehow pallid too. Cold, lifeless; unattractive in every sense. The opposite of glowing. (This is a good example of the standard, very often racialised, black:fair opposition which structures so many ideas of female beauty in early modern literature and culture.) This might be an indication that the boy actor originally playing Julia has either removed the pale makeup thought to have been worn by those playing women’s roles, or else that he has explicitly darkened his face, to look more tanned, a signifier of class as well as gender. The terms are conventionally early modern, and even the details, but the emotional truth is entirely recognisable.