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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 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 reigas iu us ! Jul. How now! what means this passion at his
Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I thivk him so. Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me. Luc. 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 niost 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.
madam, Jul. To Julia, -Say, from whom? Luc.
That the contents will show. Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee? Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from
Proteus : He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I
pray. Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker*! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth? Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. 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
That you may ruminate.
[Exit. 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. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid, And would not force the letter to my view? Since maids, in modesty, say No, to that Which they would have the profferer construe, Ay. Tie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
Re-enter Lucetta. Luc.
What would your ladyslip? Jul. Is it near dinner-time? Luc.
I would it were ; That you might kill your stomach* on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul.
What is't you took
up So gingerly? Luc.
Why did'st thou stoop then ?
Nothing concerning me.
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 rhyme.
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:
Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune.
I cannot reach so high. Jul. Let's see your song :-How now, minion?
• Passion or obstinacy.
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. Nay, now you are too flat,
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 bę 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 ! Injurious wasps ! to feed on such sweet honey, And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings ! I'll kiss each several paper for amends. And here is writ-kind Julia ;-unkind Julia ! As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruising stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. Look, here is writ-love-wounded Proteus : Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed, Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd; And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down? Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away, Till I have found each letter in the letter, Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, And throw it thence into the raging sea !
• A term in music,
+ The tenor in music. # Bustle, stir.
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,-
-that I'll tear away;
stays. Jul. Well, let us go. Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales
here? Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up.
Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down : Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
Jul. I see, you have a mouth's mind to them.
The same. A room in Antonio's house.
Enter Antonio and Panthipo.
Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sadt talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you
in the cloister: Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan.
He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputationi, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
| Little consequence.