Luc. Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays. Jul. Well, let us go. How his companion, youthful Valentine, Ant. I know it well. Pan. 'T were good, I think, your lordship sent him thither: Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, here? Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them. see; I see things too, although you judge I wink. House. Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen; Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advised: I will dispatch him to the emperor's court. With other gentlemen of good esteem, A Room in ANTONIO'S Are journeying to salute the emperor, Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go: Enter PROTEUS. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that And, in good time; - now will we break with him. Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? Pan. 'T was of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan. He wondered that your lordship He said that Proteus, your son, was meet; Ant. Nor need'st thou much impórtune me to Whereon this month I have been hammering. Pan. I think your lordship is not ignorant Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! Ant. How now? what letter are you reading Pro. May 't please your lordship, 't is a word or two Of commendation sent from Valentine, Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. How happily he lives, how well-beloved, Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time 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 No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go, [Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Pro. Thus have I shunned the fire, for fear of burning; And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned: The uncertain glory of an April day; Re-enter PANTHINO. Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; SCENE I. ACT II. Milan. A Room in the DUKE'S Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. Speed. Sir, your glove. Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a Robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that hath the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A, B, C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You but one. were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; mine: Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too without you were so simple, none else would; but you are so without these follies, that these follies slow. Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Madam are within you, and shine through you like the Silvia ? Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? water in an urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. Speed. And have you? Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them; Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, Peace, here she comes. and yet know'st her not? Speed. Is she not hard-favored, sir? Enter SILVIA. Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet? now will he interpret to her. [Aside. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; beauty. Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, Speed. You never saw her since she was de- But for my duty to your ladyship. formed. Val. How long hath she been deformed? Speed. Ever since you loved her Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 't is very clerkly done. Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and For, being ignorant to whom it goes, still I see her beautiful. I writ at random, very doubtfully. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered! Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your own prosent folly, and her passing deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. Speed. True, sir, I was in love with my bed; I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so your affection would cease. Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much : And yet, Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it:—and yet I care not; And yet take this again :-and yet I thank you; [Aside. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes, the lines are very quaintly writ; But since unwilling, take them again; Nay, take them. Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request; Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some But I will none of them; they are for you: lines to one she loves. I would have had them writ more movingly. Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. over: And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. Val. If it please me, madam! what then? bor. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.- Val. I have dined. Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your la nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat; O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. And so good-morrow, servant. [Exit SILVIA. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter! SCENE II. - Verona. A Room in JULIA's House. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. I must, where is no remedy. Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: Val. How now, sir? what, are you reasoning Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 't is you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, figure. Fal. What figure? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? Speed. What needs she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? Val. No, believe me. The next ensuing hour some foul mischance [Exit JULIA. Julia, farewell.- What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; Speed. No believing you indeed, sir; but did For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. you perceive her earnest? Val. She gave me none, cxcept an angry word. Val. I would, it were no worse. "For often you hath writ to her; and she, in modesty, Laun. Nay, 't will be this hour ere I have done Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her weeping; all the kind of the launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the pro lover.". digious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruelhearted cur shed one tear; he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll shew you the manner of it: This shoe is my father; no, this left shoe is my father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; - nay, that cannot be so, neither;-yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on 't! there 't is now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog; -no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog, -0, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; "Father, your blessing;" now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on :now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood woman; - well, I kiss her; why, there 't is; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now, the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my : tears. Enter PANTHINO. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou 'It lose the flood: and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing cameleon. Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of |