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 remission for my folly past:—
What ho! Lucetta!

That you might kill your stomach on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

Nothing concerning me.

Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall.
Jul. And is that paper nothing?

Luc.

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.

ful. Heavy? belike, it hath fome burden then. Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you fing it. ful. And why not you?

Luc.

I cannot reach so high.

Jul.

Jul. Let's fee your fong :-How now, minion?

Luc. Keep tune there ftill, fo you will fing it out: And yet, mèthinks, 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 did the base for Proteus.

Jul. This babble fhall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with proteftation!—

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

[Tears the letter.

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

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

[Exit.
Jul. Nay, would I were fo anger'd with the fame!
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
Injurious wafps! to feed on fuch sweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your ftings!
I'll kiss each feveral paper for amends.

Look, here is writ-kind Julia ;—unkind Julia !
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruising ftones,
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 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 fome whirlwind bear

Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,

And throw it thence into the raging fea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,-
Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate 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 kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Re-enter LUCETTA.

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, beft 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 fee, you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what fights you see; I fee things too, although you judge I wink.

Jul. Come, come, will't please you go?

[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

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'st thou much impórtune me to that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have confider'd well his lofs of time;
And how he cannot be a perfect man,

Not being try'd, and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by induftry 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.

Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship fent him thi.

ther:

There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,

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

Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

Ant. I like thy counfel; well hast thou advis'd: And, that thou may'ft perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known;

Even with the speedieft expedition

I will defpatch 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 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! fweet lines! fweet 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 feal 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 commendation fent from Valentine,

Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.

Ant. Lend me the letter; let me fee 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 forted with his wish :
Muse not that I thus fuddenly proceed;

For what I will, I will, and there an end.

I am refolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time