Luc.

That the contents will show.

Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee?

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from

Proteus:

He would have given 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 harbor 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 returned ;
Or else return no more into my sight.

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

Jul. Will

Luc.

you be

gone?

That you may ruminate. [Exit. Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlooked 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 profferer 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 enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,

And ask permission for my folly past:—
What ho! Lucetta!

That you might kill your stomach1 on your meat,

And not upon your maid.

Jul. What is't

So gingerly?

Luc. Nothing.

you

took up

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 lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter.

in rhyme.

Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you
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 burden 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; it is too sharp.

Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.

Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: 2
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Jul The mean is drowned with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed, I bid the base 3 for Proteus.

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.

1 Passion or obstinacy.

2 Descant signified formerly what we now call variations. The mean is the tenor in music.

3 To bid the base means, to run fast, challenging another to pursue at the rustic game called Base, or Prisonbase. The allusion is somewhat obscure, but it appears to mean here, "to challenge to an encounter."

Here is a coil1 with protestation!

[Tears the letter.

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

Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best

pleased

To be so angered with another letter.

[Exit.

Jul. Nay, would I were as angered with the same!

O 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.
And 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 Proteus;
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly healed;
And thus I search 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 some whirlwind bear
Unto a rugged, fearful, hanging rock,
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,-
Poor, forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
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

Luc. Madam,

Re-enter LUCETTA.

Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

Jul. Well, let us go.

will.

Luc. What, shall these papers lie like telltales here?

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 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 advised · And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known;

Even with the speediest expedition

I will despatch 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 Proteus go: And, in good time,-now will we break with him.

Enter PROTEUS.

Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart :
Here is her oath for love, her honor's pawn:
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
To seal 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 commendations sent from Valentine,

Delivered 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 beloved

1 i. e. break the matter to him.