Act I, Scene ii: 2. THe same. The garden Of JULIA'S house.
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| | JULIA: | |
| | But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, | |
| | Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Of all the fair resort of gentlemen | |
| | That every day with parle encounter me, | |
| | In thy opinion which is worthiest love? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Please you, repeat their names; I'll show my mind | |
| | According to my shallow simple skill. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine; | |
| | But, were I you, he never should be mine. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us! | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | How now! what means this passion at his name? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame | |
| | That I, unworthy body as I am, | |
| | Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Then thus,—of many good I think him best. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | I have no other but a woman's reason: | |
| | I think him so, because I think him so. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Why, he, of all the rest, hath never moved me. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | His little speaking shows his love but small. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Fire that's closest kept burns most of all. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | They do not love that do not show their love. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | O! they love least that let men know their love. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | I would I knew his mind. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Peruse this paper, madam.[Gives a letter.] | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | 'To Julia'—Say, from whom? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | That the contents will show. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Say, say, who gave it thee? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | That you may ruminate. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | 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! | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | What would your ladyship? | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Is it near dinner time? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | I would it were; | |
| | That you might kill your stomach on your meat | |
| | And not upon your maid. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | What is't that you took up so gingerly? | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Why didst thou stoop, then? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | To take a paper up | |
| | That I let fall. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | And is that paper nothing? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Nothing concerning me. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Then let it lie for those that it concerns. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, | |
| | Unless it have a false interpreter. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Some love of yours hath writ to you in rime. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | That I might sing it, madam, to a tune: | |
| | Give me a note: your ladyship can set. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | As little by such toys as may be possible; | |
| | Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' Love.' | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | It is too heavy for so light a tune. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Heavy! belike it hath some burden then? | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | I cannot reach so high. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Let's see your song.[Taking the letter.] | |
| | How now, minion! | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: | |
| | And yet methinks, I do not like this tune. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | No, madam; it is too sharp. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | You, minion, are too saucy. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Nay, now you are too flat | |
| | And mar the concord with too harsh a descant; | |
| | There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd | |
| | To be so anger'd with another letter. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Madam, | |
| | Dinner is ready, and your father stays. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | What! shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | If you respect them, best to take them up. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Nay, I was taken up for laying them down; | |
| | Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | I see you have a month's mind to them. | |
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| | LUCETTA: | |
| | Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; | |
| | I see things too, although you judge I wink. | |
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| | JULIA: | |
| | Come, come; will't please you go? | |
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