Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine; But, were I you, he never should be mine. Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Luc. Well, of his wealth; but of himself, so, so. Jul. What think'st thon of the gentle Proteus? Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us! Jul. How now? what means this passion at his name? Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame, That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, There, take the paper, see it be return'd; Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. Luc. That you may ruminate. [Exit. Jul And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. It were a shame to call her back again, And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. Since maids, in modesty, say No, to that Which they would have the profferer construe, Ay. That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And ask remission for my folly past: Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. What would your ladyship? Luc. I would it were; That you might kill your stomach on your meat, Jul. What is't you took up So gingerly? Luc. Nothing. 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. Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. 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. 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. Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. Luc. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter. Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie: Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Look, here is writ-kind Julia,-unkind Julia! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear And throw it thence into the raging sea! And yet I will not, sith so prettily 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, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? Jul. If you respect them, best 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 see, you have a month's mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you judge I wink. Jul, Come, come, will't please you go? [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Room in ANTONIO's House. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Pant. He wonder'd, that your lordship To let him spend his time no more at home, Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have consider'd well his loss of time; And perfected by the swift course of time: Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? [thither: Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd: 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! Ant. How now? what letter are you reading there? 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 belov❜d, And daily graced by the emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; For what I will, I will, and there an end. What maintenance he from his friends receives, Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; Please you, deliberate a day or two. Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent after thee: To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Ant. and Pant. |