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 ev'ry 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?

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 ye.

Jul.
His little speaking shews his love but small.

Luc.
The fire, that's closest kept, burns most of all.

Jul.
They do not love, that do not shew their love.

Luc.
Oh, 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 fight.

Luc.
To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.

Jul.
Will ye be gone?

Luc.
That you may ruminate. [Exit.

Jul.
And yet I would, I had o'er-look'd 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 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! Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc.
What would your ladyship?

Jul.
Is't near dinner-time?

Luc.
I would it were;
That you might kill your stomack 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 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 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, 'tis too sharp.

Jul.
You, minion, are too sawcy.

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.(5) ^note

Jul.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears it.
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Luc.
She makes it strange, but she would be best pleas'd
To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit.

Jul.
Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
Oh 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.
Look, 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 sov'raign kiss.
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus 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 whirl-wind 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 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.

Enter Lucetta.

Luc.
Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.

Jul.
Well, let us go.

Luc.
What, shall these papers lye like tell-tales here?

Jul.
If thou respect them, best to take them up.

Luc.
Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
Yet here they shall not lye, 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, Anthonio's House. Enter Anthonio and Panthion.

Ant.
Tell me, Panthion, what sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

Pant.
'Twas of his nephew Protheus, your son.

Ant.
Why, what of him?

Pant.
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:(6) ^note
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 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?

Pant.
I think, your lordship is not ignorant,
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the Emperor in his royal court.(7) ^note

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 advis'd:
And that thou may'st perceive how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make known;
Ev'n with the speediest expedition
I will dispatch 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 Protheus go.
And, in good time, now will we break with him.

Enter Protheus.

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.
Oh heav'nly Julia!

Ant.
How now? what letter are you reading there?

Pro.
May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendation 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 Emp'ror'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 to 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, Panthion; you shall be imploy'd
To hasten on his expedition. [Exe. Ant. and Pant.

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.
Oh, how this spring of love resembleth(8) ^note
  Th' uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
  And, by and by, a cloud takes all away! Enter Panthion.

Pant.
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.

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