And when the flight is made to one so dear, Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food? Pity the dearth that I have pin'd in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the fire of love with words. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire ; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns; The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; He makes sweet music with th' enamel'd stones, He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so by many winding nooks he strays, Luc. But in what habit will you go along? 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. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? Jul. That fits as well, as-" tell me, good my lord, "What compass will you wear your farthingale ?" Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly : 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 Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. not. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him! Only deserve my love, by loving him; [Exeunt. . АСТ III. SCENE I.-Milan. An anti-room in the Duke's palace. Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. SIR Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; [Exit THU. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal : But, when I call to mind your gracious favours My duty pricks me on to utter that Which else no worldly good should draw from me. I know, you have determin'd to bestow her Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this. Pro. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming. [Exit. Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Duke. Be they of much import? Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me awhile; That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, And turn her out to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; [2] Pretence is design. STEEV. For me and my possessions she esteems not. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence : Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agon I have forgot to court: Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) How, and which way, I may bestow myself, To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent. her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her: Send her another; never give her o'er; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; And kept severely from resort of men, That no man hath access by day to her. Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, |