JUL. They do not love, that do not show their love. Luc. O, they love leaft, that let men know their love. JUL. I would, I knew his mind.

Luc. Perufe this

paper, madam. JUL. To Julia,-Say, from whom? Luc. That the contents will fhew.

JUL. Say, fay; who gave it thee?

[teus:

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and fent, I think, from ProHe 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 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 elfe return no more into my fight.

Luc. To plead for love deferves more fee than hate. JUL. Will you be gone?

Luc. That you may ruminate.

[Exit.

JUL. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter.

It were a fhame, 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 profferer conftrue, Ay.
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a tefty babe, will fcratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kifs 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 fmile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remiffion for my folly paft:
What ho! Lucetta!

Re-enter LUCETTA.

Luc. What would your ladyfhip?
JUL. Is it near dinner-time?

Luc. I would it were;

That you might kill your

And not upon your maid.

ftomach on your meat,

JUL. What is't you took up

So 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 falfe interpreter.

JUL. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhime. Luc. That I might fing it, madam, to a tune:

Give me a note: your ladyship can set.

JUL. As little by fuch toys as may be poffible:

Beft fing it to the tune of Light o' love.

Luc. It is too heavy for fo light a tune.

JUL. Heavy? belike, it hath fome 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 ftill, so you will fing it out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune,

JUL. You do not?

Luc. No, madam; it is too fharp.
JUL. You, minion, are too faucy.
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a defcant :
There wanteth but a mean to fill

your fong.

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

JUL. This babble fhall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with proteftation!- [Tears the letter.

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

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Luc. She makes it ftrange; but she would be beft pleas'd To be fo anger'd with another letter.

[Exit.
JUL. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the fame!
O hateful hands, to tear fuch loving words!
Injurious wafps! to feed on fuch sweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your ftings!
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.
Look, here is writ-love-wounded Proteus :-
Poor wounded name! my bofom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I fearch it with a fovereign kifs.

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, paffionate Proteus,
To the fweet Julia ;—that I'll tear away;
And yet I will not, fith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names:
Thus will I fold them one upon another;

Now kifs, embrace, contend, do what

Re-enter LUCETTA,

you

will.

Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father stays. JUL. Well, let us go.

Luc. What, fhall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
JUL. If you refpect 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.

FUL. I fee, you have a month's mind to them.
Luc. Ay, madam, you may fay what fights you

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

fee

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The fame. A Room in ANTONIO'S House. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO.

ANT. Tell me, Panthino, what fad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
PANT. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your fon.
ANT. Why, what of him?

PANT. He wonder'd, that your lordship
Would fuffer him to spend his youth at home;
While other men, of flender reputation,
Put forth their fons to feek preferment out:
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there
Some, to discover islands far away;
Some, to the ftudious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,

He faid, that Proteus, your fon, 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'ft thou much impórtune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering.

I have confider'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 atchiev'd,

And perfected by the fwift course of time:
Then, tell me, whither were I beft to fend 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.

[thither :

PANT. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him

There shall he practice tilts and tournaments,

Hear fweet difcourfe, converse with noblemen;
And be in eye of every exercise,

Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

ANT. I like thy counfel; well haft thou advis❜d: And, that thou may'ft perceive how well I like it, The execution of it fhall make known;

Even with the speedieft expedition

I will dispatch him to the emperor's court.

PANT. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonfo, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to falute the emperor,

And to commend their fervice to his will.

ANT. Good company; with them shall Proteus go: And, in good time,-now will we break with him.