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TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
SCENE I.-An open place in VERONA.
Enter VALENTINE and PRoteus.
Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
Val. And on a love-book pray for my success.
Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love; For he was more than over shoes in love.
Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won :
Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
Val. And writers say, as the most forward bud
Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan !
He leaves his friends to dignify them more;
War with good counsel, set the world at naught;
Speed. Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master?
And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be a while away.
Speed. You conclude, that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?
Pro. I do.
Speed. Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
Speed. This proves me still a sheep.
Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd.
Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another.
Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore, I am no sheep.
Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep.
Speed. Such another proof will make me cry
Speed. Ay, Sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
Speed. Nay, Sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.
Pro. You mistake: I mean the pound, a pinfold.
Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. Pro. But what said she? [SPEED nods.] did she nod? Speed. I.
Pro. Nod, I why, that's noddy.
Speed. You mistook, Sir: I say she did nod; and you ask me, if she did nod; and say I.
Pro. And that set together, is-noddy.
Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.
Pro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.
Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
Pro. Why, Sir, how do you bear with me?
Speed. Marry, Sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word "noddy" for my pains.
Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said she?
Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter, may be both at once deliver❜d.
Pro. Well, Sir, here is for your pains. [Giving him money.] What said she?
Speed. Truly, Sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
Pro. Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she 'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones: for she's as hard as steel.
Pro. What! said she nothing?
Speed. No, not so much as-"Take this for thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned 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,
SCENE II. VERONA. Garden of JULIA's House.
Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love?
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
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?
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.
Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason:
I think him so, because I think him so.
Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
Peruse this paper, Madam. [Gives a letter.
Jul. "To Julia."-Say, from whom?
That the contents will show.
Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, 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.
Luc. That you may ruminate.
Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. It were a shame to call her back again,