JULIA  This ring I gave him when he parted from me,

To bind him to remember my good will.

And now am I, unhappy messenger,

To plead for that which I would not obtain;

To carry that which I would have refused;

To praise his faith, which I would have dispraised.

I am my master’s true confirmed love,

But cannot be true servant to my master

Unless I prove false traitor to myself.

Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly

As – God it knows – I would not have him speed. (4.4.84-94)

So Julia keeps going over and over the situation, spelling it out—as if she’s got both to convince herself that yes, this is really happening, and also to make sure the audience are completely up to speed. (Much more the former.) This ring—this actual one—I gave him when he parted from me (cueing the audience to remember the scene) to bind him to remember my good will. It wasn’t just a present, it was a remembrance, to remind him of my favour towards him, the things we’ve done together, said to each other—and to bind him; this ring is a contract, a sign of betrothal even.

Then a swerve to the more immediate dilemma: and now am I, unhappy messenger, to plead for that which I would not obtain. Now I have to speak on his behalf, and ask for something which—with all my heart—I don’t want to get. I don’t want my pleading of his suit to this other woman to be successful. I don’t want to carry that which I would have refused, to be the bearer of something that I really didn’t want to take. And I certainly don’t want to praise his faith, which I would have dispraised: how can I bring myself to talk him up as a faithful, loyal, devoted lover, when really I should be telling the truth about his betrayal?

 Yet: I am my master’s true confirmed love. I love him. There, I’ve said it. Still. Despite everything. But I cannot be true servant to my master unless I prove false traitor to myself. If I serve him faithfully in this, by doing his bidding, I’m betraying myself, my own feelings, my own integrity, utterly. There’s only one possible solution: yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly—I’ll solicit Silvia on his behalf, but I’ll do it really badly, with no enthusiasm, no ardour, because—God it knows—I would not have him speed. I don’t want him to succeed in this. And that’s the truth, so help me God.