Sidor som bilder

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

At 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!

[Erit Valentine.
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. ole 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 musiog weak, heart sick with

Enter Speed.
Speed. Sir Proteus, save you: saw you my ma-

Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for

Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already;
And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him.

Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be awhile away.
Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep-

herd then, and I a sheep?
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.

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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 let. ter to her, a laced mutton*; and she, a laced mut. ton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.

Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store of muttons.

Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best slick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; 'twere best pound you.

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

Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pin-fold.
Specd. From a pound to a piu? fold it over and

'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your

lover. Pro. But what said she? did she nod?

[Speed nods. Speed. I. Pro. Nod, I? why, that's noddyt.

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 to. gether, take it for your pains.

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Pro. No, no, you shall bave 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; baving nothing but the word, poddy, 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 delivered. Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains: what said she? Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly wip her.

Pro. Why? could'st thou perceive so much from her?

Speed. 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 her mind. Give her no token but slones; for she's as hard as steel.

Pro. What, said she nothing? Speed. No, not so much as--take this forthy pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you bave tes. tern’dt me; in requital whereof, benceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master. Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from

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.


Ill betide.

+ Given me a six-pepee.

E 2


The same.

Garden of Julia's house.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love? Luc. Ay, madain ; so you stumble not unheed.

fully. 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 slow 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 Mercatio ? 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

Luc. Pardon, dear madam ; 'tis a passing shame,
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should ceasuret thus on lovely gentlemen.

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

Jul. Your reason?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on


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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 is 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? 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, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. T'here, take the paper, see it be return's; Or else return no more into my sight. Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than

hate. Jul. Will you

be Luc.

That you may ruminate.

(Erit. 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,

gone ?

A matchmaker,

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