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EASE to perfuade, 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 intreat thy company,

To fee the wonders of the world abroad;
Than (living dully fluggardiz'd at home)
Wear out thy youth with fhapeless idleness.

It is obfervable (I know not for what caufe) that the ftile of this comedy is lefs figurative, and more natural and unaffected than the greater part of this Author's, tho' fuppofed to be one of the first he wrote.

2

Mr. Pope.

fhapeless idleness.] The expreffion is fine, as implying that idleness prevents the giving any form or character to

the manners.

But

C:

But fince thou lov'ft, love ftill, and thrive therein
Ev'n as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro. Wilt thou be gone? fweet Valentine, adieu;
Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, feest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou doft meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy Grievance to my holy prayer;
For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.

Val. And on a love-book pray for my fuccefs.
Pro. Upon fome book I love, I'll pray for thee.
Val. That's on fome fhallow ftory of deep love,
How young Leander crofs'd the Hellefpont.

Pro. That's a deep ftory of a deeper love; For he was more than over fhoes in love.

Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never fwom the Hellefpont.

Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not.

Pro. What?

Val. To be in love, where fcorn is bought with

groans;

Coy looks, with heart-fore fighs; one fading moment's

mirth,

With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights.
If haply won, perhaps, an haplefs gain :
If loft, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit;
Or elfe a wit by folly vanquished.

Pro. So, by your circumftance, you call me fool.
Val. So, by your circumftance, I fear, you'll prove.
Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not love.
Val. Love is your mafter; for he masters you.
And he that is fo yoaked by a fool,

Methinks, fhould not be chronicled for wife.
Pro. Yet writers fay, as in the sweetest bud

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The eating canker dwells; fo eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

Val. And writers fay, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker, ere it blow;

Even fo by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blafting in the bud;
• Lofing 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 defire?

Once more, adieu: my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to fee me fhipp'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 fuccefs in love; and what news elfe
Betideth here in abfence of thy friend:
And I likewife will vifit thee with mine.
Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
Val. As much to you at home; and fo, farewel!
[Exit.

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 haft metamorphos'd ine;
Made me neglect my ftudies, lofe my time,
War with good counfel, fet the world at nought;
Made wit with mufing weak, heart fick with thought.

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Speed. Sir Protheus, fave you; faw you my mafter? Pro. But now he parted hence, t' imbark for Milan. Speed.

3 This whole Scene, like many others in thefe plays (fome of which I believe were written by Shakespear, and others interpoVOL. I.

N

lated

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

Pro. Indeed, a fheep doth very often stray, An if the fhepherd be awhile away.

Speed. You conclude that my mafter is a shepherd then, and I a sheep?

Pro. I do.

Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or fleep.

Pro. A filly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
Speed, This proves me ftill a fheep.

Pro. True; and thy mafter a fhepherd.

Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It fhall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The fhepherd feeks the fheep, and not the fheep the fhepherd; but I feek my mafter, and my mafter feeks not me; therefore I am no fheep.

Pro. The Theep for fodder follows the fhepherd, the fhepherd for the food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followeft thy mafter, thy mafter for wages follows not thee; therefore thou art a sheep.

Speed. Such another proof will make me cry Baâ. Pro. But doft thou hear? gaveft thou my letter to Julia?

Speed. Ay, Sir, I, a loft mutton, gave your letter to her, a lac'd mutton, and fhe, a lac'd mutton, gave me, a loft mutton, nothing for my labour.

Pro. Here's too small a pafture for fuch ftore of

muttons.

Speed. If the ground be over-charg'd, you were

best stick her.

lated by the players), is compofed of the lowest and most triflirg conceits, to be accounted for only from the grofs taste of the age he lived in; Populo ut placerent. I wish I had authority to leave them out but I have done all I could: fet a mark of reprobation upon them throughout this edition. Mr. Pope.

Pro.

Pro. Nay, in that you are a stray, 'twere best pound

you.

Speed. Nay, Sir, lefs than a pound fhall ferve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake: I mean the pound, a pin-fold. Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over, 'tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to 'your lover.

Pro. But what faid fhe: did fhe nod? [Speed nods. Speed. I.

Pro. Nod-I? why, that's noddy.

Speed. You mistook, Sir: I faid, fhe did nod: And you ask me, if fhe did nod; and I faid, I. Pro. And that fet together, is noddy.

Speed. Now you have taken the pains to fet it together, take it for your pains.

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you.

Pro. Why, Sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, Sir, the letter very orderly; Having nothing but the word noddy for my pains. Pro. Befhrew me, but you have a quick wit.

Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your flow purse. Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what faid the?

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

Pro. Well, Sir, here is for your pains; what said she? Speed. Truly, Sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why? could'ft thou perceive fo much from her?

Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; No, not fo much as a ducket for delivering your letter. And being fo hard to me that brought your mind, I fear, fhe'll prove as hard to you in telling her mind.. Give her no token but ftones; for fhe's as hard as steel.

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