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

Val. 'Tis true; for 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;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquishéd.

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 yokéd 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 turned 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 shipped.
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 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. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed 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?

Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.

Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already;

And I have played 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 shepherd 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. 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 me not: 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 a store of muttons.

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

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; '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, a pinfold. Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and

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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 delivered.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains: What said she?

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; 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 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 testerned me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from

wreck;
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destined 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.

[Exeunt.

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Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love? Luc. Ay, madam, 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 shew my mind

According to my shallow simple skill.

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Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.

Jul. His little speaking shews 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?
Luc. That the contents will shew.

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.

Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Egla- There, take the paper, see it be returned;

mour?

Or else return no more into my sight.

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Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlooked 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,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently, all humble, 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 enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past:-
What ho! Lucetta!

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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, 't 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:

There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Jul. The mean is drowned with your unruly base.

Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble

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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.
Look, 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.
And here is writ-"love-wounded Proteus:"
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly
healed;

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 names;
Thus will I fold them one upon another,
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you

will.

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Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO.

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

Pan.

He wondered 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 impórtune 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 considered well his loss of time;
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutored in the world:
Experience is by industry achieved,
And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him?
Pan. I think your lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.

Ant. I know it well.

Pan. "T were 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 advised:

And, that thou mayst 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.
Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don
Alphonso,

With other gentlemen of good esteem,
Are journeying to salute the emperor,
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, 't is a word

or two

Of commendation sent from Valentine,
Delivered 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-beloved,
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:
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the emperor's court;
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition 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! 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 employed To hasten on his expedition.

[Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Pro. Thus have I shunned the fire, for fear of

burning;

And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned:

I feared to shew my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love;

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Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine:-
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah Silvia! Silvia!

Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!
Val. How now, sirrah?

Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her?
Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.
Val. Well, you'll still be too forward.
Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too
slow.

Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Madam
Silvia?

Speed. She that your worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a Robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that hath the pestilence: to sigh, like a school boy that had lost his A, B, C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for

want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived without you. Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would; but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?

Speed. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?

Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not?

Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. Val. What dost thou know? Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) wellfavoured.

Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.

Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.

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