Verona. A Room in JULIA'S House. |
| |
| Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. |
| Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: |
| And e'en in kind love I do conjure thee, |
| Who art the table wherein all my thoughts |
| Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, |
| To lesson me and tell me some good mean |
| How, with my honour, I may undertake |
| A journey to my loving Proteus. |
| Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. |
| Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary |
| To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; |
| Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, |
| And when the flight is made to one so dear, |
| Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. |
| Luc. Better forbear till Proteus make return. |
| Jul. O! know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food? |
| Pity the dearth that I have pined in, |
| By longing for that food so long a time. |
| Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, |
| Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow |
| As seek to quench the fire of love with words. |
| Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, |
| But qualify the fire's extreme rage, |
| Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. |
| Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. |
| The current that with gentle murmur glides, |
| Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; |
| But when his fair course is not hindered, |
| He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, |
| Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge |
| He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; |
| And so by many winding nooks he strays |
| With willing sport, to the wild ocean. |
| Then let me go and hinder not my course: |
| I'll be as patient as a gentle stream |
| And make a pastime of each weary step, |
| Till the last step have brought me to my love; |
| And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil |
| A blessed soul doth in Elysium. |
| Luc. But in what habit will you go along? |
| Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent |
| The loose encounters of lascivious men. |
| Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds |
| As may beseem some well-reputed page. |
| Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. |
| Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings |
| With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots: |
| To be fantastic may become a youth |
| Of greater time than I shall show to be. |
| Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? |
| Jul. That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord, |
| What compass will you wear your farthingale?' |
| Why, even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. |
| Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, madam. |
| Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. |
| Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, |
| Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. |
| Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have |
| What thou think'st meet and is most mannerly. |
| But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me |
| For undertaking so unstaid a journey? |
| I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. |
| Luc. If you think so, then stay at home and go not. |
| Jul. Nay, that I will not. |
| Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. |
| If Proteus like your journey when you come, |
| No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone. |
| I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. |
| Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: |
| A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, |
| And instances of infinite of love |
| Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. |
| Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. |
| Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect; |
| But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth: |
| His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, |
| His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, |
| His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, |
| His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. |
| Luc. Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him! |
| Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong |
| To bear a hard opinion of his truth: |
| Only deserve my love by loving him, |
| And presently go with me to my chamber, |
| To take a note of what I stand in need of |
| To furnish me upon my longing journey. |
| All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, |
| My goods, my lands, my reputation; |
| Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. |
| Come, answer not, but to it presently! |
| I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. |
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