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Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I
pray.

Jud. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker !!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, is an office of great worth,
And you an onicer hit for the place.

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

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

To be so anger'd with another letter.

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

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!

hate.

Jl. Will you be gone?

L'ic.

That you may ruminate.
[Exit.
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 churlishiy Ichid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angrily I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetia back,
And ask remission for my folly past:-
What ho! Lucetta!

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Jul.

Nothing.

What is't you took up

Why didst thou stoop, then?
Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall.
Jul. And is that paper nothing?
Lre.
Nothing concerning me.
Jal. 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-

Jud. 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.

Jud. 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. I
Jl. 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.
Jel. 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.
Jal. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.

(1) A matchmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy.
73) A term in music. (4) The tenor in music.

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.
And here is writ-kind Julia ;-unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
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.
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.

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

Pan.

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 tine no more at home,

(5) A challenge. (6) Bustle, stir. (7) Since.
(8) Serious. (9) Little consequence

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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 despatch him to the emperor's court.

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 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!
Re-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.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- SCENE I.-Milan. An apartment in the Duke's

phonso,

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 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 exhibition4 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.

Reproach. (2) Break the matter to him. 3) Wonder. (4) Allowance.

palace. Enter Valentine and Speed.

Speed. Sir, your glove.

Val. Not mine; my gloves are on.

Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but one.

Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine :-
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah Silvia! Silvia!

Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia!
Val. How now, sirrah!

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?

5

Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had 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 laugh'd, 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 metamorphosed 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 a urinal; that not an eye, that sees you,

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but is a physician to comment on your malady.
Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at
supper?

Val. Hast thou observ'd that? even she I mean.
Speed. Why, sir, I know her not.

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

Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir?
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 loved her.

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

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. 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.

I

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: 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, wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus for As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a going ungartered!

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

Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing

steeple! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,

deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to He being her pupil, to become her tutor. garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? to put on your That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

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 cease.

Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.

Speed. And have you?

Val. I have.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ ?

Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :Peace, here she comes.

Enter Silvia.

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

Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding pup-you perceive her earnest? pet! now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good

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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
Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and
there an end.4

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,

(4) There's the conclusion

Or fearing else some messenger, that might her so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessmind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he

ing; now should not the shoe speak a word for

unto her lover.

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

weeps on:-now come I to my mother, (0, that she could speak now!) like a wood2 woman;-well, I it.-kiss her;-why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath jup and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the came-not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay leon, Love, can feed on the air, I am one that am the dust with my tears. nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Verona. A room in Julia's house. Enter Proteus and Julia.

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Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not; The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should;

[Exit Julia.
Julia, farewell.-What! gone without a word?
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.
Enter Panthino.

Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come :-

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. A street. Enter Launce, leading a dog.

Launce, Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I 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 pebblestone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew 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: al 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.-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, (1) Kindred. (2) Crazy, distracted.

Enter Panthino.

Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Lain. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.' Pan. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thoul't 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 fcar thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?
Laun. In thy tale.

Pan. 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.

Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest.

Pan. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Milan. An apartment in the Duke's palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.

Sil. Servant

Val. Mistress?"

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

Speed. Twere good, you knocked him.
Sil. Servant, you are sad.3
Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply, I do.

Thu. So do counterfeits.
Vel. So do you.

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

Thu. What instance of the contrary?
Val. Your folly.

Thu. And how quotes you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Thu. How?

Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour?

Val. Give him leave, madain; he is a kind of cameleon.

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.

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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.

Su. 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 de

serves

The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well?

Val. I knew him as myself; for from our in-
fancy

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,
Made use and fair advantage of his days:
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Dake. 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 awhile:
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.

(1) Ill betide. (2) Incite.

Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them

Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them priso ners still.

Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,

How could 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 gentleman.

Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !-Mistress, I be seech 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.

Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.

Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me :-Once more, new servant, welcome: I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

[Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?

Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended.

Val. And how do yours?

Pro.

I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love?

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you.. I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. 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 chas'd sleep from my enthralled eves, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sor

row.

O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord;
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no wo 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.

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