Jul.
But say, Lucetta, (now we are ^note alone)
Would'st 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 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 Protheus?

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 Protheus, 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 ^note 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.

Luc.
Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves you.

Jul.
His little speaking shews his love but small.

Luc.
Fire, that is ^note closest kept, burns most of all.

Jul.
They do not love, that do not shew their love.

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

Jul.
I would, I knew his mind.

Luc.
Peruse this &dagger2; paper, madam.

Jul.
To Julia,—Say, from whom?

Luc.
That the contents will shew.

Jul.
Say, say; who gave it thee?

Luc.
Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Protheus:
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 &dagger2; 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?

&clquo;Luc.
&clquo;that ^note you may ruminate.&crquo; [Exit.

Jul.
And yet I would I had o'er-look'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.
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love;
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbl'd, kiss the rod!
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past:—
What ho! Lucetta! Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc.
What would your ladyship?

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, that you
Took up so gingerly?

Luc.
Nothing.

Jul.
Why didst thou stoop then?

Luc.
To take a paper up, that I let fall.

Jul.
And is that paper nothing?

Luc.
Nothing concerning me.

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 rime.

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.

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?

Luc.
I cannot reach so high.

Jul.
Let's see your &dagger2; song: Why, 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:
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Jul.
The mean is drown'd with your unruly ^note base.

Luc.
Indeed, I bid the base for Protheus.14Q0032

Jul.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.—
Here is a coil with protestation!— [looking over the Letter; tears, and throws it away.
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fing'ring 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!
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. [picking up the Pieces.

Look, 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.
And here is writ—love-wounded Protheus:—
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 Protheus 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.
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,—
Poor forlorn Protheus, passionate Protheus,
To the sweet Julia;—that I'll tear away;
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names:
Thus † will I fold them one upon another;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc.
Madam,
Dinner is ready, ^note and your father stays.

Jul.
Well, let us go.

Luc.
What, shall these papers lye 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 lye, for catching cold.

Jul.
I see, you have a month's mind to them. ^note

Luc.
Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.

Jul.
Come, come, will't please you go? [Exeunt.

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