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 ev'ry 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 a lovely gentleman.

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 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 ye.

Jul.
His little speaking shews his love but small.

Luc.
The fire that's closest kept burns most of all.

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

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

Jul.
I would I knew his mind.

Luc.
Peruse this 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 giv'n it you, but I being by
Did in your name receive it; pardon me.

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 ye be gone?

Luc.
That you may ruminate. [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 proff'rer construe ay.
Fie, fie; how way-ward is this foolish love,
That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,
And presently all humbled 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't 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 lye for those that it concerns.

Luc.
Madam, it will not lye 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.

Luc.
It is too heavy for so light a tune.

Jul.
Heavy? belike it hath some burthen 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 song:
How now minion?

Luc.
Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out:
And yet methinks I do not like the tune.

Jul.
You do not?

Luc.
No, madam, 'tis too sharp.

Jul.
You, minion, are too sawcy.

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 base.

Luc.
Indeed I bid the base for Protheus.

Jul.
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears it.
Go, get your gone; and let the papers lye:
You would be fingring 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!
Oh 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:
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.
Look 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 sov'raign 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 whirl-wind 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. Enter Lucetta.

Luc.
Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.

Jul.
Well let us go.

Luc.
What, shall these papers lye like tell-tales here?

Jul.
If thou 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.

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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