of our love, by all the strange sights we have seen in our days, (ay, or nights either), to come to me to Florence this day. Go to, you shall come, and let your Muses go spin for once. If thou wilt not, 's hart, what's your god's name? Apollo? Ay, Apollo. If this melancholy rogue (Lorenzo here) do not come, grant, that he do turn Fool presently, and never hereafter be able to make a good jest, or a blank verse, but live in more penury of wit and invention, than either the Hall-Beadle, or Poet Nuntius." Well, it is the strangest letter that ever I read. Is this the man, my son so oft hath praised To be the happiest, and most precious wit That ever was familiar with Art? Now, by our Lady's blessed son, I swear, I rather think him most unfortunate In the possession of such holy gifts, Being the master of so loose a spirit. Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ With so profane a pen unto his friend? The modest paper e'en looks pale for grief, To feel her virgin-cheek defiled and stained With such a black and criminal inscription. Well, I had thought my son could not have strayed So far from judgment as to mart himself Thus cheaply in the open trade of scorn To jeering folly and fantastic humour. But now I see opinion is a fool, And hath abused my senses. -- Musco. [ENTER MUSCO.] MUS. Sir. LOR. SE. What, is the fellow gone that brought this letter? MUS. Yes sir, a pretty while since. LOR. SE. And where's Lorenzo? MUS. In his chamber, sir. LOR. SE. He spake not with the fellow, did he? MUS. No, sir, he saw him not. LOR. SE. Then, Musco, take this letter, and deliver it unto Lorenzo: but, sirrah, on your life take you no knowledge I have opened it. MUS. O Lord, sir, that were a jest indeed. [EXIT MUS.] LOR. SE. I am resolv'd I will not cross his journey, Nor will I practise any violent means To stay the hot and lusty course of youth. For youth restrained straight grows impatient, And, in condition, like an eager dog, Who, ne'er so little from his game withheld, Turns head and leaps up at his master's throat. Therefore I'll study, by some milder drift, To call my son unto a happier shrift. [EXIT.] ACT I. SCENE II. ENTER LORENZO JUNIOR, WITH MUSCO. MUS. Yes, sir, on my word he opened it, and read the contents. LOR. JU. It scarce contents me that he did so. But, Musco, didst thou observe his countenance in the reading of it, whether he were angry or pleased? MUS. Why, sir, I saw him not read it. LOR. JU. No? how knowest thou then that he opened it? MUS. Marry, sir, because he charg'd me on my life to tell nobody that he opened it, which, unless he had done, he would never fear to have it revealed.