Ev'n as one heat another heat expels, ་ Or as one nail by Arength drives out anothers (10) Is it mine then, or Valentino's Praife.] This fupplemental Word, then, was firft clapt in by Mr. Rowe to help the lab'ring Verfe, and fince embraced by Mr. Pope. But let us fee, what Senfe refults from it. What! is Protheus queftioning with himself, whether it is his own Praife, or Valentine's, that makes him fall in Love? But Protheus had not praised Silvia any farther than giving his Opinion of her in three Word, when his friend demanded it. In all the old Editions, we find it thus; Is it mine, or Valentino's Praife.. The Verfe halts fo, that fome one Syllable must be wanting; and that Mr. Warburton has very ingeniously, and, as I think, with Certainty fupplied, as I have reftored in the Text, Protheus had juft feen Valentine's Miftrefs; Valentine had praised her fo lavishly, that the Defcription heightened Protheus's Sentiments of her from the Interview; fo that it was the lefs Wonder that he should not know certainly, at first, which made the strongest Impreffion, Valentine's Praifes, or his own View of the Original. SCENE SCENE changes to a Street. Enter Speed and Launce. Speed. 4UNCE, by mine honefty, welcome to Laun. Forfwear not thyself, fweet youth; for I am not welcome: I reckon this always, that a man is never undone, 'till he be hang'd; nor never welcome to a place, 'till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, wel come. Speed. Come on, you mad-cap; I'll to the ale-house with you prefently, where, for one shot of five-pence, thon fhalt have five thousand welcomes. But, Sirrah, how did thy mafler part with madam Julia ? Laun. Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted very fairly in jeft. Speed. But fhall fhe marry him? Laun. No. Speed. How then? fhall he marry her ? Laun. No, neither. Speed. What, are they broken? Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fifh. Speed. Why then how stands the matter with them? Laun. Marry, thus: when it ftands well with him, it ftands well with her. Speed. What an afs art thou? I understand thee not. Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst not? My staff understands me. Speed, What thou fay'ft?. Laun. Ay, and what I do too; look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It ftands under thee indeed. Laun. Why, ftand-under, and understand, is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun, Ak my dog: if he fay, ay, it will; if he fay, no, it will; if he thake his tail, and fay nothing, it will. Speed. The conclufion is then, that it will. Laun, Thou shalt never get fuch a fecret from me, but by a parable. Speed. 'Tis well, that I get it fo; but Launce, how fay it thou, that my mafter is become a notable lover? Laun. I never knew him otherwife: Speed, Than how ? Laun. A notable Lubber, as thou reportest him to be: Speed. Why, thou whorson afs, thou mistak'st me. Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy mafter.. Speed. I tell thee, my mafter is become a hot lover. Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not tho' he burn himfelf in love: If thou wilt go with me to the ale-hoafe, fa; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. Speed. Why? Laun. Because thou haft not fo much charity in thee,' as to go to the ale-house with a Chriflian : wilt thou go Speed. At thy fervice. Enter Protheus folus. Pro. To leave my Julia, fhall I be forsworn; To love fair Silvia, fhall I be forfworn [Exeunt. To wrong my friend, I shall be much forfworn : Love bad me (wear, and love bids me forfwear: Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; But there I leave to love, where I fhould love: ? If I keep them, I needs muft lofe myself: And Silvia, (witness heav'n, that made her fair H I will forget that Julia is alive, Remembring that my love to her is dead :· Now presently I'll give her father notice [Exit SCENE changes to Julia's House in Verona. Enter Julia and Lucetta. Ounfel, Lucetta; gentle girl, affift me Jul. Cand And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, 'Who art the table wherein all my thoughts Luc. Alas! the way is wearifome and long. And And when the flight is made to one fo dear," Luc. Better forbear, 'till Protheus makë return. By longing for that food fo long a time. Didft thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou would't as foon go kindle fire with fnow, JAME Left it fhould burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns; He makes sweet musick with th' enamel'd stones; He overtaketh in his pilgrimage: As may Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Luc. What fashion, Madam, fhall I make your breeches? ful. That fits as well, as tell me, good my lord, "What compass will you wear your farthingale " Why, |