Valentine.
Cease to persuade, my loving Protheus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:
Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth in shapeless idleness.
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein;
Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro.
Wilt thou be gone? sweet Valentine, adieu!
Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, see'st
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,
When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy danger,

(If ever danger do environ thee)
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beads-man, Valentine.

Val.
And on a love-book pray for my success.

&blquo;Pro.
&blquo;Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee.

&blquo;Val.
&blquo;That's on some shallow story of deep love,
&blquo;How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

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

&blquo;Val.
&blquo;'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
&blquo;And yet you never swom the Hellespont.

&blquo;Pro.
&blquo;Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.&brquo;

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 vanquished* ^note.

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 yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicl'd 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 turn'd 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 ship'd.

Pro.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

Val.
Sweet Protheus, no; now let us take our leave:
At 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, farewel. [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 metamorphos'd 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, bluntly.

Spe.
Sir Protheus! save you, sir; saw you my master?

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

Spe.
Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already;
And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him.

Pro.
Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,
An' if the shepherd be a while away.

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;You conclude, that my master is a shepherd then, and I a sheep?&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;I do.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.&brquo;

Spe.

This proves me still a sheep.

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;True; and thy master a shepherd.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;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.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;The sheep for fodder follows the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for

wages follow'st thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Such another proof will make me cry, ba.&brquo;

Pro.

But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia?

Spe.

Ay, sir: I, a lost 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.

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;If the ground be overcharg'd, you were best stick her.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;Nay, in that you're astray; 'twere best pound you.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.
&blquo;From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,
&blquo;'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;But what said she? [Speed nods.] Did she nod?&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;I.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;Nod? I? why, that's noddy.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;You mistook, sir; I said, she did nod: and you ask me, if she did nod: and I said I.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;And that, set together, is—noddy.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you.&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;Why, sir, how do you bear with me?&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains,&brquo;

&blquo;Pro.

&blquo;Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.&brquo;

&blquo;Spe.

&blquo;And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse* ^note.&brquo;

Pro.

Come, come, open the matter in brief; What said she?

Spe.

Open your purse; that the money, and the matter, may be both at once deliver'd.

Pro.

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

Spe.

Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.

Pro.

Why, could'st thou perceive so much from her?

Spe.

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 your mind. Give her no token but stones* ^note, for she's as hard as steel.

Pro.

What, said she nothing?

Spe.

No, not so much as—take this for thy pains. To your bounty, I thank you, you have tester'd me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro.
Go, go, begone, 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 post. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia's house. Enter Julia, and Lucetta.

Jul.
But say, Lucetta, (now we are alone)
Would'st 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.

Jul.
What think'st thou of the fair sir Eglamour† ^note?

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 shame,
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul.
Why not on Protheus, as of 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 so, 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 mov'd me.

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

Jul.
His little speaking shews his love but small,

Luc.
Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.

Jul.
They do not love, that do not shew 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 Protheus:
He would have giv'n 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, '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.

Jul.
Will you be gone?

Luc.
&blquo;That you may ruminate.&brquo; [Exit.

Jul.
And yet I would I had o'er-look'd the letter* ^note.
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 humbl'd, 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† ^note:—
What ho! Lucetta! 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, that 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.

Luc.
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;That I might sing it, madam, to a tune:
&blquo;Give me a note; your ladyship can set.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;As little by such toys as may be possible:
&blquo;Best sing it to the tune of, Light o' love.

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;It is too heavy for so light a tune.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;Heavy? belike, it hath some burden then.

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;And why not you?

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;I cannot reach so high.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;Let's see your song: Why, how now, minion?

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
&blquo;And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;You do not?

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;No, madam, it is too sharp.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;You, minion, are too saucy.

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;Nay, now you are two flat,
&blquo;And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
&blquo;There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

&blquo;Jul.
&blquo;The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.

&blquo;Luc.
&blquo;Indeed, I bid the base for Protheus* ^note.

Jul.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.—
Here is a coil with protestation!— [Looking over the Letter; tears, and throws it away.
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fing'ring them, to anger me.

Luc.
She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd,
To be so anger'd with another letter† ^note. [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. [Picking up the pieces.
Look, here is writ—kind Julia,—Unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruizing stones,

Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ—love-wounded Protheus:—
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, 'till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
&blquo;But twice or thrice, was Protheus written down:
&blquo;Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away,
&blquo;'Till I have found each letter in the letter,
&blquo;Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear
&blquo;Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,
&blquo;And throw it thence into the raging sea.
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,—
Poor forlorn Protheus, passionate Protheus,
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 is 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 sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

Pan.
'Twas of his nephew Protheus, 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,

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 Protheus, your son, was meet;
And did request me, to importune§ ^note 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 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 atchiev'd,
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.
'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 blood.

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 expedition
I will dispatch 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 Protheus go:
And, in good time, now will we break with him. Enter Protheus, at a distance, reading.

Pro.
Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! sweet Julia!
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 commendations 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:
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there's an end.
I am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentino 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 employ'd
To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Antonio, and Panthino.

Pro.
Thus have I shun'd the fire, for fear of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd:
I fear'd to shew 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.

&blquo;O, how this spring of love resembleth
  &blquo;The uncertain glory of an April day;
&blquo;Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
  &blquo;And by and by a cloud takes all away! Re-enter Panthino.

Pan.
Sir Protheus, 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* ^note.

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