testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd' me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destined to a dryer death on shore.-
I must go send some better messenger:
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post.

[Exit Speed.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-THE SAME. THE GARDEN OF JULIA'S HOUSE.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love?

Luc. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully.
Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,

That every day with parle encounter me,

In thy opinion, which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.'

Jul. What think 'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;

But, were I you, he never should be mine.

Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc. Well, of his wealth: but of himself, so so.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?

Luc. To see what folly reigns in us!

Jul. How now? what means this passion at his name?
Luc. Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame,
That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?

Luc. Then thus,—of many good, I think him best.
Jul. Your reason?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason:

I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on him?
Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
Jul. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.
Luc. O! they love least, that let men know their love.
Jul. I would I knew his mind.

Luc.

Jul. "To Julia."

Luc.

Peruse this paper, madam.
Say, from whom?

That the contents will show.

Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee?

90

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.

He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,

1 Sixpence.

Did in your name receive it: pardon the fault, I pray,
Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.

There, take the paper: see it be return'd,
Or else return no more into my sight.

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
Jul. Will you be gone?

Luc.

That you may ruminate.

Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlooked the letter.
It were a shame to call her back again,
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her
What' fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say 'No,' to that

Which they would have the profferer construe 'Ay.'
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod.
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back,

And ask remission for my folly past.-
What ho! Lucetta!

Luc. What would your ladyship?

Enter Lucetta.

I would it were;

Jul. Is it near dinner-time?

Luc.

That you might kill your stomach on your meat,
And not upon your maid.

Jul. What is 't that you took up so gingerly?

Luc. Nothing.

Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then?

Luc.

That I let fall.

To take a paper up

Jul. And is that paper nothing?

Luc. Nothing concerning me.

Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,

Unless it have a false interpreter.

Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.

Give me a note: your ladyship can set.

Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible:

Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love.'

Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune.

Jul. Heavy? belike, it hath some burthen then.
Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.
Jul. And why not you?

Luc.

VOL. I.

I cannot reach so high.

[Exit.

D

Jul. Let's see your song.-How now, minion!

Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.

Jul. You do not?

Luc.

No, madam; 'tis too sharp.

Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.

Luc.

Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a mean1 to fill your song.
Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed I bid the base for Proteus.

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation !—

Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie: You would be fing'ring them to anger me.

[Tears the letter.

Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd

To be so anger'd with another letter.

Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!

O hateful hands! to tear such loving words:

Injurious wasps! to feed on such sweet honey,

And kill the bees that yield it, with your stings.
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.

Look, here is writ-"kind Julia;"-unkind Julia!
As in reenvge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ--" love-wounded Proteus."--
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,

Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.

But twice, or thrice, was "Proteus" written down:
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away,

Till I have found each letter in the letter;

Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear,
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,

And throw it thence into the raging sea.

Lo! here in one line is his name twice writ,— "Poor forlorn Proteus; passionate Proteus To the sweet Julia: "-that I'll tear away ;

And yet I will not, sith so prettily

He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one upon another;

Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Luc. Madam,

Enter Lucetta.

Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

Jul. Well, let us go.

Luc. What shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?

Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up.

Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down;

Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold.
Jul. I see, you have a month's mind to them.

[Exit.

Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;

I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Jul. Come, come; will 't please you go?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-THE SAME. A ROOM IN ANTONIO'S HOUSE.

Enter Antonio and Panthino.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
Pant. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
Ant. Why, what of him?

Pant.
He wonder'd that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out;
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discover islands far away:
Some, to the studious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,

He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet;
And did request me to importune you

To let him spend his time no more at home,

Which would be great impeachment to his age,

In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering.

I have consider'd well his loss of time,

And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry achiev'd,

And perfected by the swift course of time.

Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him.

Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant

How his companion, youthful Valentine,

Attends the Emperor in his royal court.

Ant. I know it well.

Pant. "Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither. There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,

Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen,

And be in eye of every exercise,

Worthy his youth, and nobleness of birth.

Ant. I like thy counsel: well hast thou advis'd; And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known.

Even with the speediest expedition

I will dispatch him to the Emperor's court.

Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem,

Are journeying to salute the Emperor,

And to commend their service to his will.

Ant. Good company: with them shall Proteus go :

And in good time,-now will we break with him.

Enter Proteus.

Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
To seal our happiness with their consents!
O heavenly Julia!

Ant. How now! what letter are you reading there?
Pro. May 't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations sent from Valentine,

Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.

Ant. Lend me the letter: let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord, but that he writes How happily he lives, how well belov'd,

And daily graced by the Emperor;

Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.

Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will, And not depending on his friendly wish.

Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish,
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed,

For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the Emperor's court:
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
To-morrow be in readiness to go:

Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided:

Please you, deliberate a day or two.

Ant. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee:
No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go.-
Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd

To hasten on bis expedition.

-

[Exeunt Ant. and Pant. Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.

I fear to show my father Julia's letter,

Lest he should take exceptions to my love;

And, with the vantage of mine own excuse,
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day!
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away.

Enter Panthino.

Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go.
Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answers, no.

[Exeunt.