Jul. And why not you?
Luc

I cannot reach so high.
Jul. 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.
Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:1
There wanteth but a mean? to fill your song.

Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base, Luc. Indeed, I bid the base3 for Proteus. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation !—

[Tears the letter,

lie:

Go, get you gone; and let the papers
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!
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
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,

(1) A term in music.
(3) A challenge.

(2) The tenor in music. (4) Bustle, stir.

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.

Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father stays.

Jul. Well, let us go.

Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?

Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. Jul. I see, you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you

see;

I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Jul. Come, come, will't please you go?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. A room in Antonio's house. Enter Antonio and Panthino.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad2 talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him?

Pan.

He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputation,3

(1) Since. (2) Serious. (3) Little consequence.

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 impeachment1 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 try'd 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,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.
Ant. I know it well.

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.
Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al-
phonso,

With other gentlemen of good esteem,
Are journeying to salute the emperor,

7

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:
Muse2 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 exhibition3 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;

(1) Break the matter to him,
(3) Allowance.

(2) Wonder.

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.-
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.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I-Milan.

An apartment in the

Duke's 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 !