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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.
"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.
- 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 11s.-Knight.
SCENE I.-An Open Place in Verona.
Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS. Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus : Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Wert 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,
Val. And on a love-book pray for my success.
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,
Pro. Over the boots ? nay, give me not the boots.
Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought with
groans; Coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading mo
Pro. So, by your circumstance you call me fool.
Val. Love is your master, for he masters you;
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.
Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.
Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be awhile away. Speed. You conclude, that my master is a shep
herd, then, and I a sheep?
ther I wake or sleep.
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,
the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou SCENE II.-The Same. Julia's Garden. for wages followest thy master, thy master for wa
Enter Julia, and LUCETTA. ges follows not thee: therefore, thou art a sheep.
Speed. Such another proof will make me cry Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, * baa."
Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love ? Pro. But, dost thou hear ? gav'st thou my letter Luc. Ay, madam ; so you stumble not unheedto Julia ? Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your
letter Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, That every day with parle encounter me, gave me, a lost mutton, nothmg for my labour. In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such store Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show of muttons.
Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were According to my shallow simple skill. best stick her.
Jul. What think'st thou of the fair sir Eglamour ? Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine; pound you.
But, were I you, he never should be mine. Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? for carrying your letter.
Luc. Well, of his wealth ; but of himself, so, so. Pro. You mistake: I mean the pound, the pin Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus ? fold.
Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us ! Speed. From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and Jul. How now! what means this passion at his
name? 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your Luc. Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame, lover.
That I, unworthy body as I am, Pro. But what said she ? did she nod ?
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. Speed. I.
Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? Pro. Nod, I? why that's noddy.
Luc. Then thus,--of many good I think him best. Speed. You mistook, sir: I say she did nod, and
Jul. Your reason ! you ask me, if she did nod? and I
Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason: Pro. And that set together, is noddy.
I think him so, because I think him so. Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on together, take it for your pains.
him ? Pro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. letter.
Jul. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov'd Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear
Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me?
Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having Luc. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all. nothing but the word noddy for my pains.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
love. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow Luc. O! they love least, that let men know their purse.
Jove. Pro. Come, come ; open the matter in brief: Jul. I would I knew his mind. what said she ?
Peruse this paper, madam. Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and Jul. “To Julia.” Say, from whom? the matter, may be both at once delivered.
That the contents will show. Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee? said she ?
Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
from Proteus. Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, from her!
Did in your name receive it: pardon the fault, I Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from
pray: her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! letter; and being so hard to me that brought your Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines ? mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling To whisper and conspire against my youth ? your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, as hard as steel.
And you an officer fit for the place. Pro. What! said she nothing ?
There, take the paper: see it be return’d, Speed. No, not so much as—" take this for thy | Or else return no more into my sight. pains.” To testify your bounty. I thank you, you Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than have testern'd me; in requital whereof, henceforth
hate. carry your letters yourself. And so, sir, I'll com Jul. Will you be gone ? mend you to my master.
That you may ruminate. [Erit. Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. wreck,
It were a shame to call her back again, Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. Being destin d to a drier death on shore.
What fool is she, that knows I am a maid, I must go send some better messenger:
And would not force the letter to my view, I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Since maids, in modesty, say "No," to that Receiving them from such a worthless post. Which they would have the profferer construe,