Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? Then thus, · of many good I think him best. Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? Luc. Jul. Luc. Peruse this paper, Madam. "To Julia." Say, from whom? Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee? That the contents will show. Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? There, take the paper: see it be return'd, Or else return no more into my sight. Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. Jul. Will you be gone? Luc. That you may ruminate. 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. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid, And would not force the letter to my view, When willingly I would have had her here: [Exit. That you might kill your stomach on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul. What is 't that you took up so gingerly? Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then? Luc. That I let fall. Jul. To take a paper up 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. 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. Jul. Let's see your song. I cannot reach so high. Luc. Keep tune there still, No, Madam; it is too sharp. Nay, now you are too flat, Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. Luc. Jul. 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: You would be fingering them to anger me. Luc. She makes it strange, but she would be best pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! O hateful hands! to tear such loving words: Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey, I'll kiss each several paper for amends. Look, here is writ—"kind Julia;” — unkind Julia! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, [Exit. Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd; But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down: Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away, Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Luc. Madam, Re-enter LUCETTA. Dinner is 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. 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; SCENE III. The Same. A Room in ANTONIO'S House. Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? [Exeunt. Pant. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. He wonder'd, that your lordship Pant. He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet, Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that I have consider'd well his loss of time, And perfected by the swift course of time. Ant. I know it well. Pant. 'T were 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 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 dispatch him to the emperor's court. |