SILVIA She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.

Alas, poor lady, desolate and left.

I weep myself to think upon thy words.

Here, youth. There is my purse. I give thee this

For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou lov’st her.

Farewell.

JULIA  And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her.–

[Exit Silvia]

A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful.

I hope my master’s suit will be but cold,

Since she respects my mistress’ love so much.

Alas, how love can trifle with itself!             (4.4.159-169)

The abandoned Ariadne, and the forsaken Julia have been elided here for both Julia and Silvia—who is being notably kind and sympathetic: she is beholding to thee, gentle youth, the absent Julia’s much obliged for your empathy. Alas, poor lady, desolate and left. Silvia feels for Julia, abandoned by Proteus; she also identifies with her, as she misses Valentine, her own beloved: I weep myself to think upon thy words. I too am bereft; I too fear abandonment, that Valentine will never come back—even that he might forsake me too. Women, in this world—as in the world of classical legend and literature—are mostly to be left behind. (Although Silvia, of course, has plotted to take matters into her own hands and follow Valentine into exile.) Here, youth, she says. There is my purse. Take this money. Julia might demur—no, I give thee this for thy sweet mistress’ sake, not just because you are a nice polite young man, but because thou lov’st her. Because you’re loyal, and sensitive, in a world where young men so frequently are not.

Julia’s moved by this kindness and empathy—and she, Julia herself, shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her. She can’t hate Silvia, her rival for Proteus’s love, not after this. Besides, she is a virtuous gentlewoman—a lady—mild and beautiful. She’s alright; she’s not pulling rank. I think we could be friends, even? I hope my master’s suit will be but cold—I hope his courtship of her will continue to fail—since she, Silvia, respects my mistress’ love so much. (And now she’s talking about herself in the third person, and Julia as her mistress, not herself.) Alas, how love can trifle with itself! This is all so mad, so messy, so confusing…

Is Silvia’s character just inconsistent, or has this been the ‘real’ Silvia? Perhaps. It’s notable that here she listens and is kind, low-key, sensitive—not the arch, brittle, point-scoring woman she’s been with Valentine, Proteus, and Turio.