When willingly I would have had her here! Re-enter 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 you took up So gingerly? Luc. Nothing. Jul. Why didst thou stoop 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. Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. 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 burden then. 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. Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: Jul. The mean is drowned with your unruly base. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter. Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie: Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased To be so angered with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were as angered 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! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly healed; Luc. Madam, Re-enter LUCETTA. Dinner is ready, and your father stays. Jul. Well, let us go. Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see, VOL. I-6 [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Room in Antonio's House. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pant. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pant. Some, to the studious universities. He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet; To let him spend his time no more at home, 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 perfected by the swift course of time: Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? 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 advised; And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known; Even with the speediest expedition I will despatch him to the emperor's court. Pant. 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. Pro. Sweet love! Enter PROTEUS. sweet lines! sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart: Here is her oath for love, her honor's pawn: 0, 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 commendations 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? Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish; 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 ANT. and PANT. Pro. Thus have I shunned the fire, for fear of burning; And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned: I feared to show my father Julia's letter, Lest he should take exceptions to my love; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto; And yet a thousand times it answers, no. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Milan. A Room 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! 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 malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had 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. |