Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then?
Luc. To take a paper up, that I let fall.
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 burden then.

Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. Jul. And why not you?

Luc. I cannot reach so high.

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, it is 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 mean 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. - [Tears the letter.
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie!
You would be fingering them, to anger me.
Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best
pleas'd

Shall lodge thee, will thy wound be throughly 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.
Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father stays.
Jul. Well, let us go!

Luc. What, shall these papers lie like telltales 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.

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 seck 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 considered well his loss of time,
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry atchiev'd,

And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then, tell me, whether 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 execution

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 commendation 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 beloved,
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!

No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.
Come on, Panthino'; you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his 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'd to shew 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 shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!

Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.

Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her?

Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.
Val. Well, you'll still be too forward.

Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Silvia?
Speed. She that your worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male- content; to relish a lovesong, like a Robin-redbreast; to walk alone,like one that hath the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A, B, C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money; and now you are metamorphos'd with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my

master.

Val. Are all these things perceived in me?
Speed. They are all perceived without you.
Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you; nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would; but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady.

Val. Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.

Val. What dost thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured.

Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.

Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty. Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed. Val. How long hath she been deformed?

Speed. Ever since you lov'd her.

Val. I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.
Val. Why?

Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes:or your own had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus, for going ungartered! Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Speed. True, sir, I was in love with my bed: I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were set; so your affection would

Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her. Aside.

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousandgood-morrows. Speed. O, 'give you good even! here's a million of manners. [Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Speed. He should give her interest; and she gives it him. Aside. Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship.

Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done. Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes, writ at random, very doubtfully.

I

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet,

Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it: - and yet I care not;

-

And yet take this again; — and yet I thank you;
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet [Aside.
Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?
Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ :
But since unwillingly, take them again;
Nay, take them!

Val. Madam, they are for you.

Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over:
And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam! what then?

Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour; And so good-morrow, servant! [Exit Silvia. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!

My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor.

O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the

reason.

Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia.
Val. To whom?

Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.
Val. What figure?

Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? Val. No, believe me.

Speed. No believing you indeed, sir; but did you perceive her earnest?

Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

I

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: aJew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: This shoe is my father; - no, this left shoe is my father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither ;- yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog :- no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog:-0, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing! Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well,

an end.

Val. I would, it were no worse.
Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind
discover,

Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her

lover.

All this I speak in print; for in print I found it. Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner time.

Val. I have dined.

could speak now!) like a wood woman; - well, I kiss her; why, there'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now, the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass! you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter, if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd, that ever any man ty’d. Pant. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,- Why dost thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For fear, thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tale.

Pant. In thy tail?

Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide! - Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pant. Come, come away, man. I was sent to call thee.

Val. Of my mistress then.
Speed. 'Twere good, you
Sil. Servant, you are sad.
Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply, I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.

Val. So do you.

Thu. What seem I, that I am not?
Val. Wise.

Thu. What instance of the contrary?

Val. Your folly.

Val. You have said, sir.

Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off!

Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire: Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more! here comes my father.

Enter DUKE.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What say you to a letter from your friends

Of much good news?

Val. My lord, I will be thankful

To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a son?

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well?

Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time,

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection:
Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,

Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, He is as worthy for an empress' love, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me, With commendation from great potentates; And here he means to spend his time a-while:

I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth! Silvia, I speak to you, and you, sir Thurio:For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it: I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit Duke. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them prisoners

still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How conld he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;' Upon a homely object love can wink. Enter PROTEUS.

Sil. Have done, have done! here comes the gentle

man.

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !- Mistress, I beseech you,

Confirm his welcome with some special favour!
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he, you oft have wish'd to hear from.
Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship!
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant,
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability!-
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant!
Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed;
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome?

Pro. No; that you are worthless.
Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, my lord your father would speak with

Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now:
I have done penance for contemning love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord;
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!
Now, no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

Pro. Enough! I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the idol that you worship so?

Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon.
Val. Call her divine.

Pro. I will not flatter her.

Val. O, flatter me! for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you.

Val. Then speak the truth by her! if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,

Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth!
Pro. Except my mistress.

Val. Sweet, except not any;

Except thou wilt except against my love.

Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus! all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing: She is alone.

Pro. Then let her alone.

Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee, Because thou seest me dote upon my love! My foolish rival, that her father likes, Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along; and I must after, For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. Pro. But she loves you?

Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd;
Nay, more, our marriage hour,

With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determin'd of: how I must climb her window;
The ladder made of cords; and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on, for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel!
Pro. Go on before, I shall enquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use;
And then I'il presently attend you.
Val. Will you make haste?

Pro. I will.

Even as one heat another heat expels,

Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ?
She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love;
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold;
And that I love him not, as I was wont:
O! but I love his lady too, too much;
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.

SCENE V.- The same. A street.
Enter SPEED and LAUNCE.

[Exit.

Speed. What thou say'st?

Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me.

Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.

Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match?

Laun. Ask my dog! if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.

Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will.

Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how, say'st thou, that my master is become a notable lover?

Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how?

Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.
Speed. Why, thou whorson ass, thou mistakest me.
Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy

master.

Or as one nail by strength drives ont another,

So the remembrance of my former love

Is by a newer object quite forgotten.

Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise,