Val. And writers say, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker, ere it blow;
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud;
Lofing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond defire?
Once more, adieu: my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
Val Sweet Protheus, no: now let us take our leave.

At Milan, let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love; and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend :
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.

Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
Val. As much to you at home; and so, farewel! [Exit.
Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love;
He leaves his friends to dignify them more;
I leave my self, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me;
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
Made wit with musing weak; heart fick with thought.

Enter Speed.

Speed. Sir Protheus, save you; saw you my master? Pro. But now he parted hence, t'imbark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already,

And I have play'd the sheep in lofing him.

Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray,

An if the shepherd be awhile away.

Speed. You conclude that my mafter is a shepherd

then, and I a fheep?

Pro. I do.

Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or fleep.

Pro. A filly answer, and fitting well a sheep.

Speed. This proves me still a sheep.

Pro.

Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me; therefore I am no sheep.

Pro. The sheep for fodder follows the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee; therefore thou art a fheep.

Speed. Such another proof will make me cry Bad. Pro. But doft thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia ?

Speed. Ay, Sir, I, a loft mutton, gave your letter to her, a lac'd mutton (23); and she, a lac'd mutton, gave me, a loft mutton, nothing for my labour.

Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such store of mut

tons.

Speed. If the ground be over-charg'd, you were best stick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are a stray (4); 'twere best pound you. Speed.

(3) I, a loft Mutton, gave your Letter to her, a lac'd Mutton;] Launce calls himself a loft Mutton, because he had lost his Master, and because Proteus had been proving him a Sheep. But why does he call the Lady a lac'd Mutton? Your notable Wenchers are to this day call'd Muttonmongers: and consequently the Object of their Passion must, by the Metaphor, be the Mutton. And Cotgrave, in his English-French Dictionary, explains Lac'd Mutton, Une Garse, putain, fille de foye. And Mr. Motteux has render'd this Passage of Rabelais, in the Prologue of his fourth Book, Cailles coiphées mignonnement chantans, in this manner; Coated Quails and laced Mutton waggishly finging. So that lac'd Mutton has been a fort of standard Phrase for Girls of Pleasure. (I shall explain Cailles coiphées in its proper Place, upon a Passage of Troilus and Creffida.) That lac'd Mutton was a Term in Vogue before our Author appear'd in Writing, I find from an old Play, printed in Black Letter in the Year 1578, call'd Promos and Cafsandra: in which a Courtezan's Servant thus speaks to her;

Prying abroad for Playefellowes, and fuch,

For you, Mistreffe, I hearde of one Phallax,

A Man esteemde of Promos verie much :

Of whose Nature I was so bolde to axe,

And I fmealte, he lov'd lase mutton well.

(4) Nay, in that you are astray.] For the Reason Proteus gives, Dr. Thirlby

In requital whereof, henceforth carry your letter your felf: and fo, Sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wrack, Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. I must go fend some better messenger: I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless poft.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE changes to JULIA's chamber.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. B

UT say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in

love?

Luc. Ay, madam, fo you stumble not unheedfully.

Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,

That ev'ry day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you, repeat their names

ames; I'll shew my

mind,

According to my shallow simple skill.
Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour ?
Luc. As of a Knight well spoken, neat and fine;

But were I you, he never should be mine.

Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, fo, fo.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?
Luc. Lord, lord! to fee what folly reigns in us!
Jul. How now? what means this passion at his name?
Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame,

That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should cenfure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?
Luc. Then thus; of many good, I think him beft.
Jul. Your reafon?

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason;

I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on him?

Luc.