The SON G. Now until the break of day, Shall upon their children be. And the owner of it bleft. Trip away, make no ftay; Meet me all by break of day. Puck. If we fhadows have offended, If we have unearned luck Now to 'fcape the ferpent's tongue, So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends; [Exeunt omne Dramatis Perfonæ. DUKE of Milan, Father to Silvia. Valentine, } the two Gentlemen. Anthonio, Father to Protheus. Thurio, a foolish Rival to Valentine. Out-laws. Speed, a clownish Servant to Valentine. Panthion, Servant to Anthonio. Julia, a Lady of Verona, beloved of Protheus. Silvia, the Duke of Milan's Daughter, beloved of Valentine. Lucetta, Waiting-woman to Julia. Servants, Muficians. The SCENE, fometimes in Verona; fometimes in Milan; and on the Frontiers of Mantua. THE THE TWO GENTLEMEN C O F VERON A. A C T I. SCENE I. An open Place in Verona. Enter Valentine and Protheus. VALENTIN ALENTINE. EASE to perfuade, my loving Protheus; Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits; Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days To the fweet glances of thy honour'd love, I rather would intreat thy company, To fee the wonders of the world abroad; Than (living dully fluggardiz'd at home) Wear out thy youth with fhapeless idleness. But fince thou lov'ft, love ftill, and thrive therein; Ev'n as I would, when I to love begin. Pro. Wilt thou be gone? fweet Valentine, adieu; Think on thy Protheus, when thou, haply, feest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: Wish me partaker in thy happinefs, When thou doft meet good hap; and in thy danger, If ever danger do environ thee, H 3 Commend Commend thy Grievance to my holy prayer; Val. And on a love-book pray for my fuccefs. Pro. Upon fome book I love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That's on fome fhallow ftory of deep love, How young Leander crofs'd the Hellefpont. Pro. That's a deep ftory of a deeper love; For he was more than over fhoes in love. Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never fwom the Hellefpont. Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots. Val. No, I will not: for it boots thee not. Pro. What? Val. To be in love, where fcorn is bought with groans; Coy looks, with heart-fore fighs; one fading moment's mirth, With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights. Pro. So, by your circumftance, you call me fool. Methinks, fhould not be chronicled for wife. Val. And writers fay, as the most forward bud Even fo by love the young and tender wit That |