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and sometimes loose hanging sleeves of their own, which could either be worn over the others, or thrown behind, at pleasure.

Nicholas Hoghenberg, in his curious series of prints exhibiting the triumphal processions and other ceremonies attending the entry of Charles V. into Bologna, in 1530, affords us some fine specimens of the costume at that period, worn by the German and Italian nobles in the train of the emperor. Some are in the cassocks described by Vecellio, others in doublets with slashed hose; confined both above and below the knee by garters of silk or gold. The turban head-dress is worn by the principal herald; but the nobles generally have caps or bonnets of cloth or velvet placed on the side of the head, sometimes over a caul of gold, and ornamented with feathers, in some instances profusely. These are most probably the Milan caps or bonnets of which we hear so much in wardrobe accounts, and other records of the time. They were sometimes slashed and puffed round the edges, and adorned with 'points' or 'aglets,' i. e. tags or aiguillettes. The feathers in them, also, were occasionally ornamented with drops or spangles of gold, and jewelled up the quills.

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Milan was likewise celebrated for its silk hose. In the inventory of the wardrobe of Henry VIII., Harleian MSS., Nos. 1419 and 1420, mention is made of a pair of hose of purple silk and Venice gold, woven like unto a caul, lined with blue silver sarcenet, edged with a passemain of purple silk and gold, wrought at Milan, and one pair of hose of white silk and gold knits, bought of Christopher Millener.' Our readers need scarcely be told that the present term milliner is derived from Milan, in consequence of the reputation of that city for its fabrication as well of weeds of peace' as of 'harness for war;' but it may be necessary to inform them that by hose, at this period, is invariably meant breeches, or upper-stocks,-the stockings, or nether-stocks, beginning now to form a separate portion of male attire.

The ladies (we learn from Vecellio) wore the same sort of turbaned head-dress as the men, resplendent with various colours, and embroidered with gold and silk in the form of rose-leaves and other devices. Their neckchains and girdles were of gold, and of great value. To the latter were attached fans of feathers, with richly ornamented gold handles. Instead of a veil, they wore a sort of collar or neckerchief (Bavaro) of lawn or cambric, pinched or plaited. The skirts of their gowns were usually of damask, either crimson or purple, with a border-lace or trimming round the bottom a quarter of a yard in depth. The sleeves were of velvet, or other stuff, large and slashed, so as to show the lining or under garment, terminating with a small band or ruffle like that round the edge of the collar. The body of the dress was of gold stuff or embroidery. Some of the dresses were made with trains, which were either held up by the hand when walking, or attached to the girdle. The head-dress of gold brocade was not unlike the beretta of the Doge of Venice; and caps, very similar in form and material, are still worn in the neighbourhood of Linz in Upper Austria.

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The Milan bonnet was also worn by ladies, as well as men, at this period. Hall, the chronicler, speaks of some who wore Myllain bonnets of crymosyne satin drawn through (i. e. slashed and puffed) with cloth of gold;' and in the roll of provisions for the marriage of the daughters of Sir John Nevil, tempore Henry VIII., the price of 'a Milan bonnet, dressed with agletts,' is marked as 118.-KNIGHT.

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SCENE I.-An Open Place in Verona.


Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus : Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, adieu. Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:

Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beads-man, Valentine.

Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That's on some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love, For he was more than over shoes in love.

Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. 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 scorn is bought with groans;

Coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth,

With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won:
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Pro. So, by your circumstance you call me fool.
Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll


Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not love.

Val. Love is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so yoked by a fool,

Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.

Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

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,
Losing 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 desire?
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 Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.

To 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, farewell [Exit

Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends to dignify them more; I leave myself, 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 sick with thought.

Enter SPEED.

Speed. Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master?

Pro. But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.

Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipp'd already,

And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be awhile away.

Speed. You conclude, that my master is a shepherd, then, and I a sheep?

Pro. I do.

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

Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 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 follow the shepherd,

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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 sheep. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry "baa."

Pro. But, dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter to Julia?

Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.

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

Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.

Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you.

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

Pro. You mistake: I mean the pound, the pinfold.

Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and

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Pro. Nod, I? why that's noddy. Speed. You mistook, sir: I say she did nod, and you ask me, if she did nod? and I



Pro. And that set together, is noddy. Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.

Pro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.

Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.

Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word noddy for my pains.

Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow


Pro. Come, come; open the matter in brief: what said she?

Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter, may be both at once delivered.

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?

Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much from her?

Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter; and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steel.

Pro. What! said she nothing?

Speed. No, not so much as "take this for thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I'll commend you to my master.

Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,

Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore.-
I must go send some better messenger:
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post.


SCENE II.-The Same. JULIA'S Garden.

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love? Luc. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully.

Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show 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, so, so. Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? Luc. Lord, lord! to see 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 censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? Luc. Then thus,-of many good I think him best. Jul. Your reason?

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

I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?

Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov'd


Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Luc. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all. Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.

Luc. O they love least, that let men know their love.

Jul. I would I knew his mind.
Peruse this paper, madam.
Jul. "To Julia." Say, from whom?

That the contents will show.
Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think,

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