SCENE I-An open place in Verona.

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS.

Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus: Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Wer 't not, affection chains thy tender days 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 youth with shapeless idleness.

But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest 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 bead's-man, Valentine.

2

Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That's on some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over shoes in love.

Val. 'T is true; but you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.* Val. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. Pro.

What?

Val. To be in love where scorn is bought with groans; Coy looks, with heart-sore 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:

for in f. e.

However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Pro. So, by your circumstance you call me fool.
Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove
Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not love.
Val. Love is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
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
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud,
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 likewise will visit thee with mine.
Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.
Val. As much to you at home; and So,
farewell. [Exit
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 nought,
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought
Enter SPEED.

Speed. Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master?

stock of me 99

Pro. What! said she nothing?

Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,

An if the shepherd be awhile away.

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 "baa." Pro. But, dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia?

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 overcharg'd, you were best

stick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are a stray, 't were best pound

you.

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake: I mean the pound, the 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? did she nod? Speed. I.

[SPEED nods.

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 I 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. What said she? [Giving him money. 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 better*;

No, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter; And being so hard to me that brought to hers your mind, Ifear she'll prove as hard to you in telling you her mind.

[Exit.
Pro. Go, go, be gone, 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.1
SCENE II.-The Same. Julia's Garden.

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love? Luc. Ay, madain; 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 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 Mercutio ?11 Luc. Well, of his wealth; but of himself, so, so. Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us! Jul. How now? what means this passion at his name? Luc. Pardon, dear madam: 't is a passing shame, That I, unworthy body as I am,

I

Should censure thus a loving1 gentleman.

Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Luc. Then thus,-of many good I think him best.
Jul. Your reason?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason: 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 never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. Fire that 's closest kept burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.
Luc. O! they love least, that let men know their love.
Jul. I would I knew his mind.
Luc.

Peruse this paper, madam.
Jul. “To Julia." Say, from whom. [Gives a letter.1a
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: 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, 't is an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper: see it be return'd, [Gives it back.1
Or else return no more into my sight.

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

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, 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

I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ-"love-wounded Proteus."

That I let fall.

Jul.

To take a paper up

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.

Jul. 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.
Jul. 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.
Jul. Let's see your song.-[Snatching the letter.]
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. Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant :3 There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. Luc. Indeed I bid the base for Proteus.

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation!

[better'

[Tears the letter, and throws it down. 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 pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit.

Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! O hateful hands! to tear such loving words : Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey,

Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly 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 name."
Thus will I fold them one upon another:
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Re-enter Lucetta.

Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad13 talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pant. 'T was of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him?

Pant. 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 time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age, In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have consider'd well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutor❜d in the world: Experience is by industry achiev'd, And perfected by the swift course of time. Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine,