---

Скачать книгу

---

be fing’ring them, to anger me.

       Luc.

      She makes it strange, but she would be best pleas’d

      To be so ang’red with another letter.

       [Exit.]

       Jul.

      Nay, would I were so ang’red with the same.

      O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!

      Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey,

      And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!

      I’ll kiss each several paper for amends.

      Look, here is writ “kind Julia.” Unkind Julia,

      As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

      I throw thy name against the bruising stones,

      Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.

      And here is writ “love-wounded Proteus.”

      Poor wounded name: my bosom as a bed

      Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal’d;

      And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.

      But twice, or thrice, was “Proteus” written down:

      Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away

      Till I have found each letter in the letter,

      Except mine own name; that, some whirlwind bear

      Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,

      And throw it thence into the raging sea.

      Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,

      “Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus:

      To the sweet Julia”—that I’ll tear away—

      And yet I will not, sith so prettily

      He couples it to his complaining names.

      Thus will I fold them one upon another;

      Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

       [Enter Lucetta.]

       Luc.

      Madam,

      Dinner is 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

       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 wond’red 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,

      And how he cannot be a perfect man,

      Not being tried and tutor’d in the world:

      Experience is by industry achiev’d,

      And perfected by the swift course of time.

      Then tell me, whither were I best to send him?

       Pan.

      I think your lordship is not ignorant

      How his companion, youthful Valentine,

      Attends the Emperor in his royal court.

       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,

      And be in eye of every exercise

      Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

       Ant.

      I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis’d;

      And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it,

      The execution of it shall make known:

      Even with the speediest expedition

      I will dispatch 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—

       [Enter] Proteus.

      And in good time! now will we break with him.

       Pro.

---

Скачать книгу