SCENE I.-A Street in Verona.

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEus, l.

Val. (L.) Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:
Were't not affection chains thy captive heart
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,

Wear out thy hours with shapeless idleness.

Pro. (R.) Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, adieu ! Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, see'st

Some rare, note-worthy object in thy travel;

Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers;
For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Val. And on a love-book pray for my success.
Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee,
When thou shalt love, that thou mayst thrive therein,
Even as I would in my suit to Julia.

Val. That, trust me, Proteus, I shall never do.
Pro. What?

Val. Be in love: where scorn is bought with groans;

Coy looks with sighs; one fading moment's mirth

With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:

If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain;

If lost, why then a grievous labour won:
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly overthrown.

Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool;
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
Is eaten by the canker, ere it blow,

Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly;

Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond desire ?

Once more, adieu! My father, at the road,
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.

Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. To Milan let me hear from thee by letters,

Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I will likewise visit thee with mine.

Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan !
Val. As much to you at home; and so, farewell!
[Exit Valentine, R.

Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends to dignify them more; I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me; Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at naught, Made wit with musing weak, heart-sick with thought. Enter SPEED, L.

Spe. Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master? Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Spe. Twenty to one, then, he is shipp'd already; And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him. [Crosses, R. Pro. (L.) But dost thou hear? Gav'st thou my letter

to Julia?

Spe. (R.) 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. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said

she?

Spe. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter, may be both at once delivered.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. [Gives Speed money.] What said she?

Spe. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her? Spe. 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. Pro. What, said she nothing?

Spe. No; not so much as-" Take this for thy pains." To 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. [Exit Speed, R. Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from wreck; Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, Being destin'd to a drier 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, L.

SCENF II.-The Garden of Julia's House, in Verona JULIA, R., and LUCETTA, L., discovered in an arbour.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst 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 Altamont? Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine; But, were I you, he ne'er should be my choice. Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so. Jul. (R.) What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? 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 others?
Luc. (L.) 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 wouldst 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 mov'd me least.
Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves you.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul. I would, I knew his mind.

Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. [Gives Julia a letter.
Jul. [Reads.] "To Julia." Say, from whom?
Luc. 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.

Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?

[Gives the letter to Lucetta.

There, take the paper, see it be returned;
Or else return no more into my sight.

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

Luc. [Aside.] That you may ruminate?

[Exit Lucetta, L. Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd 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 angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,

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

Enter LUCETTA, L.

Luc. What would your ladyship?

Jul. Is it near dinner-time?

Luc. I would it were;

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

[Going, L., she drops the letter, and picks it up hastily. Jul. What is it you took up

So gingerly?

Luc. Nothing.

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.

O how delightful were it, would you sing it!
Jul. And why not you?

Luc. I cannot reach so high.

Jul. Let's see your song! [Takes and reads the letter.] How now, minion?

Luc. Madam, methinks, I do not like this tune.

Jul. You do not?

Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp.

Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.

[Julia tears the letter, and throws it away.

This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. [Crosses, L. Here is a coil with protestation!

Go, get you gone :—

[Lucetta is going to pick up the pieces of the letter.

And let the papers lie:

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Luc. (R.) [Aside.] She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd

To be so anger'd with another letter.

[Exit Lucetta, R.

Jul. O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!

I'll kiss each several paper for amends.

And, here is writ-kind Julia ;-unkind Julia !

Look, 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.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away,

B