JULIA
They do not love that do not show their love.
LUCETTA
O, they love least that let men know their love.
JULIA
I would I knew his mind.
LUCETTA (giving Proteus’ letter)
Peruse this paper, madam.
JULIA
‘To Julia’—say, from whom?
LUCETTA
That the contents will show.
JULIA
Say, say—who gave it thee?
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.
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.
She gives Lucetta the letter
See it be returned,
Or else return no more into my sight.
LUCETTA
To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
JULIA
Will ye be gone?
LUCETTA
That you may ruminate.
Exit
JULIA
And yet I would I had o‘erlooked 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 enforced my heart to smile.
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!
Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA
What would your ladyship?
JULIA
Is’t near dinner-time?
LUCETTA
I would it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat
And not upon your maid.
⌈She drops and picks up the letter⌉
JULIA
What is’t that you
Took up so gingerly?
LUCETTA Nothing.
JULIA
Why didst thou stoop then?
LUCETTA
To take a paper up that I let fall.
JULIA
And is that paper nothing?
LUCETTA
Nothing concerning me.
JULIA
Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
LUCETTA
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
JULIA
Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
LUCETTA
That I might sing it, madam, to a tune,
Give me a note. Your ladyship can set.
JULIA
As little by such toys as may be possible.
Best sing it to the tune of ‘Light o’ love’.
LUCETTA
It is too heavy for so light a tune.
JULIA
Heavy? Belike it hath some burden, then?
LUCETTA
Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
JULIA
And why not you?
LUCETTA
I cannot reach so high.
JULIA
Let’s see your song.
⌈She tries to take the letters⌉
How now, minion!
LUCETTA
Keep tune there still. So you will sing it out.
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA You do not?
LUCETTA
No, madam, ‘tis too sharp.
JULIA
You, minion, are too saucy.
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.
JULIA
The mean is drowned with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA
Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA
This bauble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation.
She tears the letter and drops the pieces
Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie.
You would be fing’ring them to anger me.
LUCETTA (aside)
She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased
To be so angered with another letter.
Exit
JULIA
Nay, would I were so angered 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.
She picks up some of the pieces of paper
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 healed;
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.
Enter Lucetta
LUCETTA
Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.
JULIA Well, let us go.
LUCETTA
What, shall these papers lie like telltales here?
JULIA
If you respect them, best to take them up.