Jul. What think'ft 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 see what folly reigns in us! Jul. 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 best.
Jul. Your reafon ?

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

I think him fo, because I think him fo.

Jul. And would't thou have me cast 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, beft loves you.
Jul. His little fpeaking fhews his love but small,
Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not fhew their love.
Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their love.
Jul. I would, I knew his mind.

Luc. Perufe this paper, madam.
Jul. To Julia,-Say, from whom?
Luc. That the contents will fhew.
Jul. Say, fay, who gave it thee?

[Protheus:

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and fent, I think, from 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, truft me, 'tis an office of great worth; And you an officer fit for the place. There, take the paper, see it be return'd; Or elfe return no more into my fight.

Luc. To plead for love deferves more fee than hate. Jul. Will you be gone?

Luc. "That you may ruminate.”

[Exit.

Jul. And yet I would I had o'er-look'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 fhe, 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 conftrue, ay.
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love;
That, like a tefty babe, will scratch the nurse,
And prefently, all humbl'd, 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 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 ladyfhip?

Jul. Is it 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.

Jul. Then let it lie for thofe that it concerns.
Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,

Unless it have a false interpreter.

*This ticklish wavering of a young, a delicate mind, upon being first seriously addreffed, is very natural; indeed, upon all occafions our author appears minutely correct in mental operations, both philofophically and practically.

t This fpeech is a beautiful and delicate picture of a female in Julia's fituation; affimilating herself to a tefty babe is an admirable thought, containing a comprehenfive idea for conception to work

upon.

"ful. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. "Luc. That I might fing it, madam, to a tune: "Give me a note; your ladyship can set.

Jul. As little by fuch toys as may be poffible: "Belt 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 burden then. " Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you fing it. "Ful. And why not you?

"Luc. I cannot reach fo high.

Jul. Let's fee your fong: Why, how now, minion? "Luc. Keep tune there ftill, fo you will fing it out: "And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.

66

Jul. You do not?

"Luc. No, madam, it is too fharp.

Jul. You, minion, are too faucy. "Luc. Nay, now you are two 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 !—

[Looking over the Letter; tears, and throws it away. Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye: You would be fing'ring them, to anger me.

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

To be fo anger'd with another letter †.

[Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were fo anger'd with the fame! O hateful hands, to tear fuch loving words! Injurious wafps; to feed on fuch sweet honey, And kill the bees, that yield it, with your ftings! I'll kiss each several paper for amends.

[Picking up the pieces. Look, here is writ-kind Julia,-Unkind Julia! As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I throw thy name against the bruizing ftones,

Though a good deal of chat between females upon little matters is natural enough, yet we think reduction would make this part of

the fcene better.

This point of difcernment is well thrown in, to distinguish the knowing confidante, from the undefigning young lady.

Trampling

Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ-love-wounded Protheus:-
Poor wounded name! my bofom, as a bed,

Shall lodge thee, 'till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I fearch it with a fovereign kiss.

"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,

66

Except mine own name; that fome whirlwind 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. Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam,

Dinner is ready, and your father fstays.

Jul. Well, let us go.

Luc. What, fhall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
Jul. If you refpect them, beft 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 fee, you have a month's mind to them.
Luc. Ay, madam, you may fay what fights you fee;

I fee things too, although you judge I wink.
Jul. Come, come, will't pleafe you go?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The fame. A Room in Antonio's House.

Enter Antonio, and Panthino.

Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what fad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Protheus, your
Ant. Why, what of him?

Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship

fon.

Would fuffer him to spend his youth at home;
While other men, of flender reputation,

Put

Put forth their fons to feek preferment out:
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some to discover islands far away;

Some to the ftudious univerfities.
For any, or for all these exercises,

He faid, that Protheus, your fon, was meet;
And did request me, to importune § you
To let him spend his time no more at home;
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have confider'd well his lofs of time;
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry atchiev'd,

And perfected by the fwift courfe of time;

Then, tell me, whither were I beft to fend him?
Pan. I think, your lordship is not ignorant,

How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.

Ant. I know it well.

Pan. "Twere good, I think, your lordship fent him

There fhall he practife tilts and tournaments,
Hear fweet discourse, converse with noblemen;
And be in eye of every exercise,

Worthy his youth and nobleness of blood.

[thither:

Ant. I like thy counfel; well haft thou advis'd: And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, The execution of it fhall make known;

Even with the speediest expedition

will dispatch him to the emperor's court.

Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, don Alphonfe, With other gentlemen of good esteem,

Are journeying to falute the emperor,

And to commend their fervice to his will.

§ Shakespeare, according to the flow of his verfification, accents the word importune wrong, by fixing ftrefs upon the fecond instead of the last fyllable; this trefpafs, however exceptionable, is, in fo great and warm a writer, very pardonable.