Enter Anthonio and Panthion.

Ant. Tell me, Panthion, what fad Talk was that
Wherewith my Brother held you in the Cloyster?
Pant. 'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your Son.
Ant. Why, what of him?

Pant. He wonder'd that your Lordship
Would fuffer him to spend his Youth at home,
While other Men of flender Reputation
Put forth their Sons to feek Preferment out:
Some to the Wars, to try their Fortune there;
Some to discover Islands far away;
Some to the ftudious Universities,
For any, or for all thefe Exercises,

He faid, that Protheus, 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'ft thou much importune me to that
Whereon this Month I have been hammering.
I have confider'd well his lofs of Time;
And how he cannot be a perfect Man,
Not being try'd, nor tutor❜d in the World:
Experience is by Industry atchiev'd,

And perfected by the swift Course of time;
Then tell me, whither were I beft to fend him?
Pant. I think your Lordship is not ignorant,
How his Companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the Emperor in his Royal Court.
Ant. I know it well.

Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your Lordship sent him thither; There fhall he practife Tilts and Turnaments; Hear fweet Difcourfe, converse with Noblemen,

And be in Eye of every Exercise

Worthy his Youth, and Nobleness of Birth.

Ant. I like thy Counfel; well haft thou advis'd:

And that thou may'ft perceive how well I like it,
The Execution of it fhall make known;

Even with the speedieft Expedition

I will dispatch him to the Emperor's Court.
Pant. To Morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonfo,
With other Gentlemen of good Efteem,

Are journeying to falute the Emperor,

And to commend their Service to his Will.

Ant. Good Company: With them fhall Protheus go.
And in good time, now will we break with him.
Enter Protheus.

Pro. Sweet Love, fweet Lines, fweet Life;
Here is her Hand, the Agent of her Heart;
Here is her Oath for Love, her Honour's Pawn.
O that our Fathers would applaud our Loves,
To feal our Happiness with their Confents.
Oh heav'nly Julia!

Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there? Pro. May't please your Lordship, 'tis a Word or two Of Commendation fent from Valentine;

Deliver'd by a Friend that came from him.

Ant. Lend me the Letter; let me fee 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 ftand you affected to his Wish? Pro. As one relying on your Lordship's Will, And not depending on his friendly With.

Ant. My Will is fomething forted with his Wish:
Mufe not that I thus fuddenly proceed;

For what I will, I will; and there's an End. I
I am refolv'd that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentino in the Emp'ror's Court:

What Maintenance he from his Friends receives,
Like Exhibition thou fhalt have from me:
To Morrow be in readiness to go.

Excufe it not, for I am peremptory.

Pro. My Lord, I cannot be fo foon provided;

Please you deliberate a Day or two.

Ant. Look what thou want'ft fhall be fent after thee:

No more of Stay; to Morrow thou must

go.

Come on, Panthion; you fhall be imploy'd

Το

To haften on his Expedition.

[Exe. Ant. and Pant. Pro. Thus have I fhunn'd the Fire for fear of burning, And drench'd me in the Sea, where I am drown'd:

I fear'd to fhew my Father Julia's Letter,
Left he should take Exceptions to my Love;
And with the vantage of mine own Excuse,
Hath he excepted most against my Love.
Oh, how this Spring of Love resembleth
The uncertain Glory of an April Day,
Which now fhews all the Beauty of the Sun,
And by and by a Cloud takes all away.
Enter Panthion,

Pant. Sir Protheus, your Father calls for you;
He is in hafte, therefore I pray you go.

Pro. Why this it is: My Heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it anfwers no.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Valentine and Speed.

Speed. SIR, your Glove.

Val. Not mine; my Gloves are on.

[Exeunt.

Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but one, Val. Ha? let me fee: Ay, give it me, it's mine:

Sweet Ornament that decks a Thing divine.

Ah Silvia, Silvia!

Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!
Val. How now Sirrah?

Speed. She is not within hearing, Sir.

Val. Why Sir, who bad you call her?
Speed. Your Worship, Sir, or else I mistook.

Val. Well, you'll ftill be too forward.

Speed. And yet I was laft chidden for being too flow, Val. Go to Sir, tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? Speed. She that your Worship loves?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in Love?

Speed. Marry, by thefe fpecial Marks: Firft, you have learn'd, like Sir Protheus, to wreath your Arms like a Malecontent, to relish a Love-Song like a Robin-red-breaft, to

walk

walk alone like one that had the Peftilence, to figh like a School-boy that had loft his A, B, C, to weep like a young Wench that had loft her Grandam, to faft like one that takes Diet, to watch like one that fears robbing, to speak puling like a Beggar at Hollowmafs: You were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a Cock; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the Lions; when you fafted, it was prefently after Dinner; when you look'd fadly, it was for want of Mony: And now you are metamorphos'd with a Mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my Master.

Val. Are all these things perceiv'd in me?
Speed. They are all perceiv'd without ye.
Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for without you were fo fimple, none elfe would: But you are fo without thefe Follies, that thefe Follies are within you, and shine through you like the Water in an Urinal; that not an Eye that fees you, but is a Physician to comment on your Malady.

Val. But tell me, doft thou know my Lady Silvia?
Speed. She that you gaze on fo as the fits at Supper?
Val. Haft thou obferv'd that? Even the I mean.
Speed. Why, Sir, I know her not.

Val. Doft thou know her by gazing on her, and yet know'ft her not?

Speed. Is the not hard-favour'd, Sir?

Val. Not so fair, Boy, as well favour'd.

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough,

Val. What doft thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair, as of you well favour'd. Val. I mean that her Beauty is exquifite,

But her Favour infinite.

Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all Count.

Val. How painted? and how out of Count?

Speed. Marry Sir, fo painted to make her fair, that no Man counts of her Beauty.

Val. How efteem'ft thou me? I account of her Beauty. Speed. You never faw her fince fhe was deform'd.

Val. How long hath the been deform'd?

Speed.

Speed. Ever fince you lov'd her.

Val. I have lov'd her ever fince I faw her,

And ftill I fee her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot fee her.
Val. Why?

Speed. Because Love is blind. O that you had mine Eyes, or your own Eyes had the Lights they were wont to have, when you chid at Sir Protheus for going ungarter'd.

Val. What fhould I fee then?

Speed. Your own prefent Folly, and her paffing Deformity: For he, being in Love, could not fee to garter his Hofe; and you, being in Love, cannot fee to put on your

Hofe.

Val. Belike, Boy, then you are in Love; for laft Morning you could not fee to wipe my Shoes.

Speed. True, Sir, I was in Love with my Bed; I thank you, you fwing'd me for my Love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In Conclufion, I ftand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were fet, fo your Affection would

ceafe.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ?

Val. No, Boy, but as well as I can do them: Peace, here fhe comes.

Enter Silvia.

Speed. Oh excellent Motion! Oh exceeding Puppet! Now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam and Miftrefs, a thoufand Good-morrows. Speed. Oh! 'give ye Good-ev'n; here's a million of Manners. Sil. Sir Valentine, and Servant, to you two thousand. Speed. He fhould give her Intereft; and the gives it him. Val. As you have injoin'd me, I have writ your Letter Unto the fecret, nameless Friend of yours;

Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my Duty to your Ladyfhip.

Sil. I thank you, gentle Servant,, 'tis very Clerkly done.
Val. Now truft me, Madam, it came hardly off:

For