The Same. A Room in ANTONIO'S House. |
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Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO. |
Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that |
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? |
Pant. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. |
Ant. Why, what of him? |
Pant. He wonder'd 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? |
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 shall he practise 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. |
Pant. 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! |
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 seal our happiness with their consents! |
O heavenly Julia! |
Ant. How now! what letter are you reading there? |
Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two |
Of commendations sent from Valentine, |
Deliver'd 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; |
For what I will, I will, and there an end. |
I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time |
With Valentinus in the emperor's court: |
What maintenance he from his friends receives, |
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. |
To-morrow be in readiness to go: |
Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. |
Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided: |
Please you, deliberate a day or two. |
Ant. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee: |
No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go. |
Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd |
To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO. |
Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, |
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. |
I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, |
Lest he should take exceptions to my love; |
And with the vantage of mine own excuse |
Hath he expected most against my love. |
O! how this spring of love resembleth |
The uncertain glory of an April day, |
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, |
And by and by a cloud takes all away! |
|
Re-enter PANTHINO. |
Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: |
He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go. |
Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, |
And yet a thousand times it answers, 'no.' [Exeunt. |
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