And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! And ask remission for my folly past:- Luc. Re-enter LUCETTA. What would your ladyship? I would it were; Jul. Is it near dinner-time? Luc. That you might kill your stomach on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul. What is't you took up Nothing. Why did'st thou stoop then? Nothing concerning me. Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. Jul. And is that paper nothing? Luc. 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. Jul. Heavy? belike it hath some burden then. 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? Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp. Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. 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. 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. [pleas'd Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! And here is writ-kind Julia ;—unkind Julia! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Lúc. 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? The same. SCENE 111. [Exeunt. A Room in ANTONIO'S House. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that, Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there; Some, to discover islands far away; Some, to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises, He said, that Proteus, your son, 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 consider'd well his loss of time; How his companion, youthful Valentine, [thither: Pan. "Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him 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: Don Alphonso, I will dispatch him to the emperor's court. 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? 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. 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: To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Ant. and Pan. Re-enter PANTHINO. Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go. Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto; And yet a thousand times it answers, no. [Exeunt. B |