THE

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

C

An open place in Verona.

Enter Valentine and Protheus.

VALENTINE.

EASE to perfuade, my loving Protheus;

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 intreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad;
Than (living dully fluggardiz'd at home)
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
VOL. I. PART II.

M

But fince thou lov'ft, love ftill, and thrive therein:
Ev'n as I would, when I to love begin.

PRO. Wilt thou be gone? fweet Valentine, adieu;
Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, feest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel.
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

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

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayer;
For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.

VAL. And on a love-book pray for my fuccefs.
PRO. Upon fome book I love, I'll pray for thee.
VAL. That's on fome fhallow ftory of deep love;
How young Leander crofs'd the Hellefpont.

PRO. That's a deep ftory of a deeper love; For he was more than over fhoes in love.

VAL. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,

And yet you never fwom the Hellefpont.

Pko. 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 fcorn is bought with groans; Coy looks, with heart-fore fighs; one fading moment's mirth, With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights.

If haply won, perhaps, an hapless gain :
If loft, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit;
Or elfe a wit by folly vanquished.

PRO. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
VAL. So, by your circumftance, I fear, you'll prove.

PRO. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not love.

VAL. Love is your mafter; for he mafters you.

And he that is fo yoaked by a fool,

Methinks, fhould not be chronicled for wife,

Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a paffing shame, That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should cenfure thus on lovely gentlemen.

JUL. Why not on Protheus, as on all the reft?

Luc. Then thus; of many good, I think him best.
JUL. Your reafon ?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reafon;

I think him fo, because I think him fo.

JUL. And would'ft thou have me caft my love on him?
Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not caft away.
JUL. Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he, of all the reft, I think, best loves ye.
JUL. His little fpeaking fhews his love but small.
Luc. The fire that's closest kept, burns most of all.
JUL. They do not love, that do not fhew their love.
Luc. Oh, they love leaft, that let men know their love.
JUL. I would, I knew his mind.

Luc. Perufe this paper, madam.

JUL. "To Julia;" fay, from whom?
Luc. That the contents will fhew.

JUL. Say, fay; who gave it thee?

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and fent, I think, from Protheus, He would have giv'n it you, but I, being in the way, Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray. JUL. Now, by my modefty, a goodly broker! Dare you prefume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and confpire against my youth? Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth; And you an officer fit for the place, There, take the paper; fee, it be return'd; Or else return no more into my fight.

Luc. To plead for love deferves more fee than hate.

JUL. Will ye be gone?

Luc. That you may ruminate.

[Exit,

JUL. And yet I would I had o'er-look'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 fhe, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since maids, in modefty, fay No, to that
Which they would have the proff 'rer conftrue, Ay.
Fie, fie; how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a tefty babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kifs the rod?
How churlifhly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to fmile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back,
And ask remiffion for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!

Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. What would your ladyship?

JUL. Is't near dinner-time?

Luc. I would it were;

That you might kill your ftomach on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

JUL. What is't that you

Took up fo gingerly?

Luc. Nothing.

JUL. Why did'ft thou ftoop 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 rhime.

Lve. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune : Give me a note; your ladyship can fet.

JUL. As little by fuch toys as may be poffible :
Best fing to the tune of "Light o'love."

Luc. It is too heavy for fo light a túne.
JUL. Heavy? belike, it hath forme burden then.

Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you fing it.
JUL. And why not you?

Luc. I cannot reach fo high.

JUL. Let's fee your fong?

How now, minion';

Luc. Keep tune there fill, to you will fing it out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.

JUL. You do not?

Luc. No, madam, 'tis too sharp.

JUL. You, minion, are too sawcy.

Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harth a defcant:
There wanteth but a mean, to fill your fong.

[Boxes Her.

JUL. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed, 'I bid the base for Protheus.

JUL. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with proteftation!

Go, get you gone; and let the papers lyė:

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

[Tears it.

Luc. She makes it strange, but she would be best pleas'd

To be fo anger'd with another letter.

JUL. Nay, would I were fo anger'd with the fame!

Oh hateful hands, to tear fuch 16ving words!
Injurious wafps, to feed on fuch sweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your fling's!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends:

[Exit.