He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course :
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

[Crosses, R.
Luc. (L.) But in what habit will you go along?
Jul. (R.) Not like a woman; for I would prevent
The bold encounters of ungovern'd men

In this my journey; therefore, I do pray thee,
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds

As may beseem some well-reputed page.

Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings, With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots;

To be fantastic may become a youth

Of greater time than I shall show to be.

But, tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid a journey?

I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. Jul. Nay, that I will not.

[Crosses, L. Luc. (R.) Then, never dream o' the scandal, madam; go.

If Proteus like your journey, when you come,

No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone :

I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal.

Jul. (L.) That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear :
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,

Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth: His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart, as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so when you come to him. Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong.

To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
Only deserve my love, by loving him;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey:
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation;
Only, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence:-
Nay, answer not; but to it presently;
I am impatient of my tarriance.

END OF ACT I.

[Exeunt, R.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The Duke's Palace in Milan.

Enter VALENTINE, and SPEED running after him, R.
Spe. (R.) Sir, Sir, your glove.

Val. (L.) Not mine; my gloves are on.
Ha! let me see :-'tis mine; ay, give it me.-
Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine!-
Ab, Silvia! Silvia !

Spe. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!

Val. How now, sirrah?

Spe. She is not within hearing, sir.

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

Spe. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.

Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Lady Silvia ? Spe. She that your worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love?

Spe. Marry, by these special marks-First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like a mal-content; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to speak puling, like a begger at hallowmas; and to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast.-You were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you look'd 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?
Spe. They are all perceived without you.

Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my Ludy Silvia?
Spe. She that you gaze on so, when she sits at supper?
Val. Hast thou observed that? Even she I mean.
Spe. Why, sir, I know her not.

Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not?

Spe. Is she not hard-favoured?

Val. Not so fair, as well favoured.

Spe. Not so fair as, of you, well favoured.-You never saw her since she was deformed.

Val. How long hath she been deformed?

Spe. Ever since you loved her.

Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.

Spe. 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?

Spe. Your own present folly; 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, then, you are in love: for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Spe. 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. She hath enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.

Spe. And have you?

Val. I have.

Spe. Are they not lamely writ?

Val. They are as well as I can do them.-Peacehere she comes. [Crosses, R.

Spe. [Aside, L.] O, excellent motion! O, exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her.

Enter SILVIA, R.

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. Spe. [Aside.] O, give you good even! here's a million of manners.

Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. Spe. [Aside.] He should give her interest, and she gives it him.

Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter,
[Gives her a paper, which she reads.

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,

I writ at random, very doubtfully.

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. [Reads.] "That eye were blind indeed, that heart were cold,

Where gifts like yours

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.

Spe. [Aside.] And yet you will; and yet another yet.
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 :

[Gives him the paper.

I would have had them writ more movingly.

[Crosses, L. Speed crosses behind to R. 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, L.

Spe. (R.) O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on the

steeple!

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

Val. (L.) How now, sir? What, are you reasoning with yourself?

Spe. Nay, I was rhyming,-'tis you that have the

reason.

Val. To do what?

Spe. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia.
Val. To whom?

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

Spe. By a letter, I should say.

Val. She hath not writ to me.

Spe. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Do you not perceive the jest?

Val. No, believe me.

Spe. No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive her earnest? Why, she hath given you a letter. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

Spe. And that letter she hath delivered, and there an end.

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

[Crosses, R.

"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 dis

cover,

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 near dinner-time.

Val. I have dined.

Spe. Ay; but hearken, sir! Though the cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.

Val. Begone, then, and leave me.

[Crosses, L.

Spe. O sir, follow your mistress's direction, write more movingly; be moved, sir,-be moved.

[Exit Speed, R.

Silvia !

Val. My hopes and fears confound me.
The unblown rose, the crystal, nor the diamond,
Is not more pure than she her very name,
Like some celestial fire, quickens my spirit :
She is the star by whom my fate is led.
She comes again-her eyes are smiling too,
Kindly as sunshine on the new-born spring.-
Re-enter SILVIA, L.

Distract me not with riddles, gentle Silvia!
I am on the verge of happiness or misery:
Sir Thurio is a suitor for your love,
Proud of his wealth and rank,-