The Same. The Garden of JULIA'S House. |
| |
| Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. |
| 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 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 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 wouldst 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 shows his love but small. |
| Luc. Fire that's 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. [Gives a letter. |
| 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 ye be gone? |
| Luc. 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.' |
| Fie, fie! how wayward 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 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 song. [Taking the letter.] |
| 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 bass. |
| Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. |
| 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! |
| 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. |
| And 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! |
| Lo! here in one line is his name twice writ, |
| 'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, |
| 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, and your father 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 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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