When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile! And ask permission for my folly past :- Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. What would your ladyship? 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. Why should'st thou stoop 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 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. I cannot reach so high. 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. And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. 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. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Till I have found each letter in the letter, Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear And throw it thence into the raging sea! Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,— Re-enter LUCETTA. Luc. 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? [Exeunt. 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? Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some, to the studious universities. He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet, To let him spend his time no more at home, Ant. Nor need'st thou much impórtune me to that, Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have consider'd well his loss of time; And perfected by the swift course of time: Ant. I know it well. Pan. Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither: There shall he practice tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen; 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, I will despatch him to the emperor's court. Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the emperor, And to commend their service to his will. 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! O, that our fathers would applaud our loves, 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, Delivered 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 graced 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; |