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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 follows 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, Baá.
Pro. But doft thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia ?
Speed. Ay, fir;: I, a loft-mutton, gave your letter to her, a lac’d-mutton"; and she, a lac’d-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 over-charg’d, you were best stick her. Pro. Nay, in that you are a stray, 'twere best pound you. Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying
Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pin-fold.
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 ?
Speed. She nodded and said, I.
Pro. Nod-I? why, that's noddy.
Speed. You mistook, sir; I said, she did nod:
And you ask me, if she did nod; and I said, ay.
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, fir, 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.
· Lac'd mutton is a phrafe anciently used for a lady of pleasure.
OF VER O N A.
Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your flow purse.
Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief; what said she ?
Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may
Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains; what said she?
Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win 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 ducket 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 stones; for she’s as hard as steel.
Pro. What, said she nothing?
Speed. No, not so much as, take this for thy pains :
To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have tester'd me:
In requital whereof, henceforth carry your letter yourself: and
fo, fir, l’ll commend you to my
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 poft.
Changes to Julia's chamber.
Enter Julia and Lucetta.
Ful. UT say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldft thou then counsel me to fall in love?
Luc. Ay, madam, fo you stumble not unheedfully.
Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
That ev'ry day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
Luc. Please you repeat their names, I'll show
I'll show my mind, According to my shallow simple skill.
Jul. What think'st thou of the fair fir 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 Protheus ?
Luc. Lord, lord ! to see what folly reigns in us !
Jul. How now? what means this passion at his name?
Luc. Pardon, dear madam ; 'tis a passing fhame,
That I, unworthy body, as I am,
Should cenfure pass on lovely gentlemen.
Jul. Why not on Protheus as on 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;
I think him fo, because I think him so.
Jul. And would'st 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 movd me.
Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small.
Luc. The 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?
Luc. That the contents will show.
Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Protheus.
He would have giv’n it you, but I being by
Did in your name receive it; pardon me.
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.
There, take the paper; see it be return’d,
Or else return no more into my sight.
Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
be gone? Luc. That you may ruminate.
Jul. And yet I would I had o'er-look'd the letter.
It were a shame, to call her back again,
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, fay, no, to that
Which they would have the proff'rer construe, ay.
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !
How churlishly 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 smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!
Luc. What would your ladyship?
Jul. Is it near dinner-time
Luc. I would, it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat,
And not upon your maid.
Jul. What is’t that you
Took up fo gingerly?
Jul. Why didst thou stoop then ?
Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall.
Jul. And is that nothing?
Luc. Nothing concerning me.
Jul. Then let it lye for those that it concerns.
Luc. Madam, it will not lye where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhime.
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 burthen then.
Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.
Jul. And why not you?
Luc. I cannot reach fo high.
Jul. Let's see your song:- why, how now, minion?
[Gives her a box on the ear.
Luc. Keep tune there ftill, so you will fing it out:
And yet, methinks, I do not like the tune.
Jul. You do not ?
Luc. No, madam, it is too sharp.
Jul. You are too fawcy.
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
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 Protheus.
Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation !
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fing’ring them to anger me.
Luc. She makes it ftrange, but the would be best pleas'd
To be so anger'd with another letter.
Jul. Nay, would I were so anger’d with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words !