« ElőzőTovább »
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!
What would your ladyship?
I would it were;
What is't you took up
Why did'st thou stoop then?
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, inadam, to a tune: Give me a ņote: your ladyship can set.
Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible :
Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune.
I cannot reach so nigh. 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?
Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,
Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Jul. This babble shall not benceforth trouble me.
(pleas’d Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best To be so anger'd with another letter.
[Erit. 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, 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 throughly heal'd; 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 ragged, 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 will.
Re-enter LUCETTA. Lúc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father stays.
Jul. Well, let us go.
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;
Enter Antonio and PanthINO.
Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
He wonder'd, that your lordship
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 how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being try'd and tutord in the world : Experience is by industry atchiev'd, And perfected by the swift course of time: Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him?
Pun. I think, your lordship is not ignorant,
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Ant. I like thy counsel ; well hast thou advis’d:
Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go : And, in good time,—now will we break with him.
Ant. How now? what letter are you reading there?
Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendation sent from Valentine, Deliver'd 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 belov’d, And daily grac'd by the emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish?
Pro. As one relying on your lordship’s will, And not depending on his friendly wish.
Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish:
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided;
Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent after thee: No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go. Come
on, Panthino; you shall be employd To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Ant. and Pan.
Pro. Thus have I shunn’d the fire, for fear of burning; And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd: I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, Lest he should take exceptions to my love; And with the vantage of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love. 0, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto;