Pro. What, faid the nothing?

Speed. No, not fo much as--take this for thy pains: To teftify your bounty, I thank you, you have teftern'd

me:

In requital whereof, henceforth carry your letter your-
felf: and fo, Sir, I'll commend you to my mafter.
Pro. Go, go, be gone, to fave your fhip from wreck,
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being deftin'd to a drier death on fhore.
I must go fend fome better meffenger:
I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from fuch a worthless poft.

[Exeunt feverally.

SCEN E III.

Changes to Julia's Chamber.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. B Would't thou then counfel me to fall in

UT fay, Lucetta, now we are alone,

love?

Luc. Ay, madam, fo you stumble not unheedfully.
Jul. Of all the fair refort of gentlemen,

That ev'ry day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthieft love?

Luc. Please you, repeat their names; I'll fhew my
mind,

According to my fhallow fimple skill.

Jul. What think'ft thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? Luc. As of a Knight well fpoken, neat and fine; But were I you, he never fhould be mine.

Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, fo, fo.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?
Luc. Lord, lord! to fee what folly reigns in us!

Jul.

ful. How now? what means this paffion at his

name?

Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a paffing fhame, That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should cenfure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul. Why not on Protheus, as of all the reft?
Luc. Then thus; of many good, I think him beft.
Jul. Your reafon ?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reafon;

I think him fo, because I think him fo.

ful. And would'st thou have me caft my love on him?

Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not caft away.
Jul. Why, he of all the reft hath never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he of all the reft, I think, best loves ye.
Jul. His little speaking fhews his love but small.
Luc. The fire, that's closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not fhew their love.
Luc. Oh, they love leaft, that let men know their
love.

Jul. I would, I knew his mind.
Luc. Perufe this paper, madam.
Jul. To Julia; fay, from whom?
Luc. That the contents will fhew.
Jul. Say, fay; who gave it thee?

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and fent, 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 modefty, a goodly broker!
Dare you prefume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and confpire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth;
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper; fee, it be return'd;
Or elfe return no more into my fight.

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

N 3

Jul.

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 fhame to call her back again,

And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.
What fool is fhe, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since maids, in modefty, fay No, to that
Which they would have the proff'rer construe, Ay.
Fie, fie; how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a tefty babe, will scratch the nurse,
And prefently, all humbled, kifs the rod ?
How churlifhly 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 remiffion 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 stomach on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

Jul. What is't that you

Took up fo gingerly?

• Luc. Nothing.

Jul. Why didft thou ftoop then?

Luc. To take a paper up, that I let fall.

Jul. And is that paper nothing?

Luc. Nothing concerning me.

ful. Then let it lye for thofe that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lye, where it concerns;

Unless it have a falfe interpreter.

Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhime.

Luc,

Luc. That I might fing it, madam, to a tune:
Give me a note; your ladyfhip can fet.

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

Luc. I cannot reach fo high.

Jul. Let's fee your fong:

How now, minion?

Luc. Keep tune there ftill, fo you will fing it out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.

Jul. You do not?

Luc. No, madam, 'tis too fharp.
Jul. You, minion, are too fawcy.
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 bid the bafe for Protheus.
Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with proteftation!

Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fingering them, to anger me.

[Tears it.

Luc. She makes it ftrange, but fhe would be best pleas'd

To be fo anger'd with another letter.

[Exit.

4 Indeed I bid the bafe for Protheus] The speaker here turns the allufion (which her miltress employed) from the bafe in mufick to a country exercife Bid the Bafe: In which fome purfue, and others are made prifoners. So that Lucetta would intend, by this, to fay, indeed I take pains to make you a Captive to Protheus's paffion.He uses the fame allufion in his Venus and Adonis, To bid the winds a base he now prepares.

and in his Cymbaline he mentions the game,

Jul. Nay, would I were fo anger'd with the fame!
Oh hateful hands, to tear fuch loving words!
Injurious wafps, to feed on fuch fweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings!
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 bruifing ftones;
Trampling contemptuously on thy difdain.
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 fearch it with a fov'reign kifs.

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 fome whirl-wind 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 Protheus, paffionate Protheus,
To the fweet Julia: that I'll tear away;
And yet I will not, fith fo prettily
He couples it to his complaining names:
Thus will I fold them one upon another;
Now kifs, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.
Jul. Well, let us go.

Luc. What, fhall these papers lye like tell-tales here? Ful. If thou refpect them, beft to take them up. Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: Yet here they fhall not lye, for catching cold.

Jul. I fee, you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what fights you fee: I fee things too, although you judge I wink. Jul. Come, come, will't pleafe you go? [Exeunt. SCENE