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[Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS]
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Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
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Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
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Were't not affection chains thy tender days
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To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
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I rather would entreat thy company
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To see the wonders of the world abroad,
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Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
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Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
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But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
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Even as I would when I to love begin.
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Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!
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Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest
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Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
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Wish me partaker in thy happiness
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When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
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If ever danger do environ thee,
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Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
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For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.
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And on a love-book pray for my success?
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Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.
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That's on some shallow story of deep love:
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How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
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That's a deep story of a deeper love:
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For he was more than over shoes in love.
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'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
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And yet you never swum the Hellespont.
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Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.
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No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
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To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans;
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Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth
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With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
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If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
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If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
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However, but a folly bought with wit,
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Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
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So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.
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'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love.
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Love is your master, for he masters you:
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And he that is so yoked by a fool,
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Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
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Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
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The eating canker dwells, so eating love
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Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
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And writers say, as the most forward bud
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Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
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Even so by love the young and tender wit
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Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
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Losing his verdure even in the prime
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And all the fair effects of future hopes.
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But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
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That art a votary to fond desire?
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Once more adieu! my father at the road
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Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
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And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
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Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
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To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
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Of thy success in love, and what news else
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Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
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And likewise will visit thee with mine.
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All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
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As much to you at home! and so, farewell.
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He after honour hunts, I after love:
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He leaves his friends to dignify them more,
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I leave myself, my friends and all, for love.
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Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me,
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Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
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War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
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Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
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Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master?
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But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.
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Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already,
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And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
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Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,
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An if the shepherd be a while away.
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You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then,
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Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
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A silly answer and fitting well a sheep.
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This proves me still a sheep.
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True; and thy master a shepherd.
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Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
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It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another.
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The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the
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shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks
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not me: therefore I am no sheep.
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The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the
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shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for
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wages followest thy master; thy master for wages
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follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.
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Such another proof will make me cry 'baa.'
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But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia?
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Ay sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her,
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a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a
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lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
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Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
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If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
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Nay: in that you are astray, 'twere best pound you.
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Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for
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carrying your letter.
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You mistake; I mean the pound,—a pinfold.
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From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,
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'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to
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Nod—Ay—why, that's noddy.
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You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask
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me if she did nod; and I say, 'Ay.'
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And that set together is noddy.
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Now you have taken the pains to set it together,
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take it for your pains.
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No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.
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Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
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Why sir, how do you bear with me?
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Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing
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but the word 'noddy' for my pains.
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Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
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And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
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Come come, open the matter in brief: what said she?
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Open your purse, that the money and the matter may
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be both at once delivered.
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Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
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Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
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Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
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Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no,
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not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter:
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and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I
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fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your
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mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as
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What said she? nothing?
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No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To
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testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned
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me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your
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letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.
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Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
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Which cannot perish having thee aboard,
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Being destined to a drier death on shore.
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I must go send some better messenger:
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I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
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Receiving them from such a worthless post.
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The same. Garden of JULIA’s house.
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[Enter JULlA and LUCETTA]
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But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
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Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
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Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
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Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
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That every day with parle encounter me,
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In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
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Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind
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According to my shallow simple skill.
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What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
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As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine;
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But, were I you, he never should be mine.
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What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
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Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.
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What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
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Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
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How now! what means this passion at his name?
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Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame
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That I, unworthy body as I am,
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Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
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Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
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Then thus: of many good I think him best.
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I have no other, but a woman's reason;
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I think him so because I think him so.
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And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
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Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
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Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me.
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Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
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His little speaking shows his love but small.
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Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
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They do not love that do not show their love.
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O, they love least that let men know their love.
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I would I knew his mind.
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Peruse this paper, madam.
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'To Julia.' Say, from whom?
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That the contents will show.
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Say, say, who gave it thee?
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Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.
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He would have given it you; but I, being in the way,
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Did in your name receive it: pardon the
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Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
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Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
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To whisper and conspire against my youth?
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Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth
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And you an officer fit for the place.
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Or else return no more into my sight.
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To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
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That you may ruminate.
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And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter:
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It were a shame to call her back again
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And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
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What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
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And would not force the letter to my view!
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Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that
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Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.'
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Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
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That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
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And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
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How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
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When willingly I would have had her here!
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How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
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When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
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My penance is to call Lucetta back
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And ask remission for my folly past.
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What would your ladyship?
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Is't near dinner-time?
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That you might kill your stomach on your meat
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And not upon your maid.
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What is't that you took up so gingerly?
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Why didst thou stoop, then?
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To take a paper up that I let fall.
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And is that paper nothing?
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Nothing concerning me.
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Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
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Madam, it will not lie where it concerns
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Unless it have a false interpeter.
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Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
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That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
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Give me a note: your ladyship can set.
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As little by such toys as may be possible.
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Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'
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It is too heavy for so light a tune.
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Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?
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Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
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I cannot reach so high.
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Let's see your song. How now, minion!
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Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
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And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
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No, madam; it is too sharp.
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You, minion, are too saucy.
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Nay, now you are too flat
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And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:
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There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
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The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass.
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Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
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This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
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Here is a coil with protestation!
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Go get you gone, and let the papers lie:
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You would be fingering them, to anger me.
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She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased
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To be so anger'd with another letter.
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Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
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O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
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Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
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And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
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I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
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Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
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As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
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I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
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Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
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And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
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Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
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Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
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And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
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But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
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Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
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Till I have found each letter in the letter,
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Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
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Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
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And throw it thence into the raging sea!
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Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
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'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
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To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
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And yet I will not, sith so prettily
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He couples it to his complaining names.
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Thus will I fold them one on another:
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Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
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Dinner is ready, and your father stays.
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What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
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If you respect them, best to take them up.
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Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
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Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
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I see you have a month's mind to them.
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Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
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I see things too, although you judge I wink.
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Come, come; will't please you go?
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The same. ANTONIO’s house.
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[Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO]
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Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that
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Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
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'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
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He wonder'd that your lordship
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Would suffer him to spend his youth at home,
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While other men, of slender reputation,
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Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
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Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
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Some to discover islands far away;
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Some to the studious universities.
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For any or for all these exercises,
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He said that Proteus your son was meet,
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And did request me to importune you
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To let him spend his time no more at home,
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Which would be great impeachment to his age,
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In having known no travel in his youth.
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Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
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Whereon this month I have been hammering.
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I have consider'd well his loss of time
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And how he cannot be a perfect man,
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Not being tried and tutor'd in the world:
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Experience is by industry achieved
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And perfected by the swift course of time.
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Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?
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I think your lordship is not ignorant
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How his companion, youthful Valentine,
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Attends the emperor in his royal court.
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'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither:
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There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,
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Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen.
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And be in eye of every exercise
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Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.
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I like thy counsel; well hast thou advised:
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And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it,
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The execution of it shall make known.
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Even with the speediest expedition
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I will dispatch him to the emperor's court.
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To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
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With other gentlemen of good esteem,
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Are journeying to salute the emperor
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And to commend their service to his will.
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Good company; with them shall Proteus go:
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And, in good time! now will we break with him.
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Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life!
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Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
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Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
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O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
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To seal our happiness with their consents!
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How now! what letter are you reading there?
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May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two
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Of commendations sent from Valentine,
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Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.
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Lend me the letter; let me see what news.
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There is no news, my lord, but that he writes
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How happily he lives, how well beloved
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And daily graced by the emperor;
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Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
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And how stand you affected to his wish?
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As one relying on your lordship's will
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And not depending on his friendly wish.
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My will is something sorted with his wish.
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Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed;
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For what I will, I will, and there an end.
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I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time
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With Valentinus in the emperor's court:
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What maintenance he from his friends receives,
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Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
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To-morrow be in readiness to go:
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Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
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My lord, I cannot be so soon provided:
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Please you, deliberate a day or two.
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Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee:
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No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go.
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Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd
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To hasten on his expedition.
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[Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO]
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Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning,
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And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
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I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
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Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
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And with the vantage of mine own excuse
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Hath he excepted most against my love.
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O, how this spring of love resembleth
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The uncertain glory of an April day,
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Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
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And by and by a cloud takes all away!
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Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
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He is in haste; therefore, I pray you to go.
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Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto,
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And yet a thousand times it answers 'no.'
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