Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why? Could'st 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 her mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as hard as steel. Pro. What, said she nothing? 6 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, I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines, SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia's house. Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love? Luc. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheed fully. 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 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, 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 would'st 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 me. Lac. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Luc. Fire, that is 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. Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. That the contents will shew. Jul. To Julia,-Say, from whom? Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee? Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, There, take the paper, see it be return'd; Or else return no more into my sight. Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. Jul. Will you be gone? Luc. That you may ruminate. [Erit. Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. It were a shame, to call her back again, And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, And ask remission for my folly past: That you might kill your stomach on your meat, And not upon your maid. Nothing concerning me. Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. Jul. And is that paper nothing? Luc. Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhime. Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune: Give me a note: your ladyship can set. Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love 1o. Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Jul. Heavy? belike, it hath some burden then. Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. Jul. And why not you? Jul. Let's see your song:-How now, minion? Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. Jul. You do not? Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp. Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant": Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation!- [Tears the letter. Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me. Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! |