Pro. Then let her alone.

Val. Not for the World: Why, Man, fhe is mine own, And I as rich in having fuch a Jewel,

As twenty Seas, if all their Sand were Pearl,
The Water Nectar, and the Rock pure Gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou feeft me doat upon my Love.
My foolish Rival, that her Father likes,
Only for his Poffeffions are fo huge,

Is gone with her along, and I must after;
For Love, thou know'ft, is full of Jealoufie.
Pro. But fhe loves you?

1

Val. Ay,and weare betrothed; nay more, our Marriage Hour, With all the cunning manner of our Flight,

Determin'd of; how I must climb her Window,

The Ladder made of Cords, and all the Means
Plotted and 'greed on for my Happiness.
Good Protheus go with me to my Chamber,
In thefe Affairs to aid me with thy Counsel."
Pro. Go on before; I fhall enquire you forth,
I muft unto the Road, to difembark

Some Neceffaries that I needs muft ufe;
And then I'll presently atend you.

Val. Will you make hafte?

Pro. I will.

Even as one Heat another Heat expels,

Or as one Nail by Strength drives out another;
So the Remembrance of my former Love
Is by a newer Object quite forgotten:
Is it mine then, or Valentino's Praife?
Her true Perfection, or my falfe Tranfgreffion,
That makes me reafonlefs, to reafon thus?
She is fair; and fo is Julia, that I love;
That I did love; for now my Love is thaw'd,
Which, like a waxen Image 'gainst a Fire,
Bears no Impreffion of the thing it was:
Methinks my Zeal to Valentine is cold,
And that I love him not as I was wont.
O! but I love his Lady too too much;
And that's the Reafon I love him fo little.
How shall I doat on her with more Advice,

[Exit Val.

That

That thus without Advice begin to love her?
'Tis but her Picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazled fo my Reafon's Light:
But when I look on her Perfections,
There is no Reafon but I fhall be blind.
If I can check my erring Love, I will;
If not, to compafs her I'll ufe my Skill.

SCENE V.

Enter Speed and Launce.

[Exit.

Speed. Launce, by mine Honefty welcome to Padua. Laun. Forfwear not thy felf, fweet Youth; for I am not welcome: I reckon this always, that a Man is never undone 'till he is hang'd, nor never welcome a to Place 'till fome certain Shot be paid, and the Hoftefs fay Welcome.

Speed. Come on, you Mad-cap; I'll to the Ale-house with you prefently, where, for one Shot of five pence, thou halt have five thousand Welcomes. But, Sirrah, how did thy Mafter part with Madam Julia?

Laun. Marry, after they clos'd in earneft, they parted very fairly in Jeft.

Speed. But the fhall marry him?

Laun. No.

Speed. How then? Shall he marry her?

Laun. No, neither.

Speed. What, are they broken?

Laun. No, they are both as whole as a Fish.

Speed. Why then, how ftands the Matter with them Laun. Marry thus; when it ftands well with him, it

ftands well with her.

Speed. What an Afs art thou? I understand thee not. Laun. What aBlock art thou, that thou canst not? My Staff understands me.

and

Speed. What thou fay'ft?

Laun. Ay, and what I do too: Look thee, I'll but lean, my Staff underftands me.

Speed. It ftands under thee indeed.

Laun. Why, stand-under, and understand is all one.

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a Match?

Laun. Ask my Dog: If he fay ay, it will; if he fay no, it will; if he shake his Tail, and fay nothing, it will. Speed. The Conclufion is then, that it will.

Laun. Thou shalt never get such a Secret from me, but by a Parable.

Speed. 'Tis well that I get it fo: But, Launce, how fay'st thou, that my Mafter is become a notable Lover? Laun. I never knew him otherwise.

Speed. Than how?

Laun. A notable Lubber, as thou reporteft him to be. Speed. Why, thou whorefon Afs, thou mistak'ft me. Laun. Why Fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy Mafter.

Speed. I tell thee, my Mafter is become a hot Lover.

Launt. Why, I tell thee, I care not tho' he burn himself, in Love: If thou wilt go with me to the Alehoufe, fo; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the Name of a Chriftian.

Speed. Why?

Laun. Becaufe thou haft not fo much Charity in thee as to go to the Ale-house with a Chriftian: Wilt thou go? Speed. At thy Service.

SCENE VI.

Enter Protheus folus.

Pro. To leave my Julia; fhall I be forfworn? To love fair Silvia; fhall I be forfworn?

[Exeunt.

To wrong my Friend, I fhall be much forfworn:'
And ev'n that Pow'r which gave me first my Oath,
Provokes me to this threefold Perjury.

Love bad me fwear, and Love bids me forfwear:
O fweet fuggefting Love, if thou haft finn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted Subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling Star,
But now I worship a celeftial Sun:
Undeedful Vows may heedfully be broken;
And he wants Wit that wants refolv'd Will,
To learn his Wit t'exchange the bad for better:
Fie, fie, unreverend Tongue, to call her bad,
Whofe Sov'raignty fo oft thou haft preferr'd,

With twenty thousand Soul-confirming Oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do:

But there I leave to love where I fhould love:
Julia I lofe, and Valentine I lofe :

If I keep them, I needs muft lofe my felf:
If I lofe them, thus find I but their Loss,
For Valentine, my felf, for Julia, Silvia:
felf am dearer than a Friend;

I to my

For Love is ftill moft precious in it felf:
And Silvia, witness Heav'n that made her Fair,
Shews Julia but a fwarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive,
Remembring that my Love to her is dead:
And Valentine I'll hold an Enemy,
Aiming at Silvia as a fweeter Friend:
I cannot now prove conftant to my felf,
Without fome Treachery us'd to Valentine:
This Night he meaneth, with a corded Ladder,
To climb celeftial Silvia's Chamber Window,
My felf in Council his Competitor:

Now prefently I'll give her Father notice
Of their difguifing, and pretended Flight;
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine;
For Thurio he intends fhall wed his Daughter.
But Valentine being gone, I'll quickly crofs,
By fome fly Trick, blunt Thurio's dull Proceeding.
Love lend me Wings, to make my purpose swift,
As thou haft lent me Wit to plot his Drift.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. Counfel, Lucetta; gentle Girl, affift me,
And even in kind Love I do conjure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my Thoughts
Are vifibly Character'd and Engrav'd,
To leffon me, and tell me fome good Mean,
How with my Honour I may undertake
A Journey to my loving Protheus.

Luc. Alas, the Way is wearifome and long.
Jul. A true devoted Pilgrim is not weary

[Exit.

Το

To measure Kingdoms with his feeble Steps,
Much lefs fhall me, that hath Love's Wings to fly;
And when the Flight is made to one fo dear,
Of fuch divine Perfection as Sir Protheus.

Luc. Better forbear 'till Protheus make Return.
Fal. Oh, know'st thou not, his Looks are my Soul's Food?
Pity the Dearth that I have pined in,

By longing for that Food fo long a time:

Didft thou but know the inly Touch of Love,
Thou would'ft as foon go kindle Fire with Snow,
As feek to quench the Fire of Love with Words.

Lnc. I do not feek to quench your Love's hot Fire,
But qualifie the Fire's extream Rage,

Left it should burn above the Bounds of Reason.

Jul. The more thou dam'ft it up, the more it burns:
The Current that with gentle Murmur glides,
Thou know'ft, being ftopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair Courfe is not hindered,

He makes fweet Mufick with th' ennamel'd Stones,
Giving a gentle Kifs to every Sedge

He overtaketh in his Pilgrimage:

And fo by many winding Nooks he ftrays,
With willing Sport, to the wild Ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my Course;
I'll be as patient as a gentle Stream,
And make a Paftime of each weary Step,
'Till the laft Step have brought me to my Love;
And there I'll reft, as, after much Turmoil,
A bleffed Soul doth in Elizium.

prevent

Luc. But in what Habit will you go along?
Jul. Not like a Woman; for I would
The loose Encounters of lafcivious Men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with fuch Weeds
As may befeem fome well-reputed Page.

Luc. Why then your Ladyfhip muft cut your Hair.
Jul. No, Girl, I'll knit it up in filken Strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love Knots:

To be fantastick, may become a Youth

Of greater time than I fhall fhow to be.

Luc. What Fashion, Madam, shall I make your Breeches? Jul. That fits as well, as tell me, good my Lord,

What