JULIA

But say Lucetta (now we are alone) Wouldst thou then counsel me to fallen in love? Of all the fair rest of Gentlemen, That every day with pared encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love? Your reason? And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me. His little speaking, shows his love but small. They do not love, that do not show their love. I would I knew his mind. To Julia : say, from whom? Say, say: who gave it thee? Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker: Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper, and conspire against my youth? Now trust me, it's and office of great worth, And you and officer fit for the place: There: take the paper: see it be returned, Or else return no more into my sighed. Will you be gone? And yet I would I had ore-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 'foole is she, that know 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, I. 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 angrily 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 passed. What hoe: Lucetta. Is't near dinner time? And is that paper nothing? Then let it lie, for those that it concerns. Some love of yours, hath writ to you in Rhyme. As little by such toys, as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light Oh, Love. I must where is no remedy. If you turn not: you will return the sooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Counsel, Lucetta, gentle girl assist me, And even in kind love, I do conjure thee, Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly Charactered, and engraved, To lesson me, and tell me some good mean How with my honour I may undertake A journey to my loving Protheus. A true-devoted Pilgrim is not weary To measure Kingdoms with his feeble steps, Much less shall she that hath Loves wings to fly, And when the flight is made to one so deer, Of such divine perfection as Sir Protheus. O, knowest y u not, his looks are my souls 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. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns: The Current that with gentle murmur glides (Thou knowest) being stopped, impatiently does rage: But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enameled 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 does in Elizium. Not Like a woman, for I would prevent The lose encounters of lascivious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well reputed Page. No girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings, With twenty od-conceited truelove knots: To be fantastic, may become a youth Of greater time then I shall show to be. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord) What compass will you wear your Farthingale? Why even what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.) Out, out, (Lucetta) that will be illfauourd. Lucetta, as thou lovest me let me have What thou thinkest 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 scandalized. Nay, that I will not. That is the least (Lucetta) of my fear: A thousand oaths, and Ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of Love, Warrant me welcome to my Protheus. Base men, that use them to so base effect; But truer stars did govern Protheus 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. Now, as thou lovest 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 needs 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. He herd not that. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceive it, And make it but a shadow, as I am. Host, will you go? Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus? Not so: but it hath been the longest night That ere I watched, and the most heaviest. It seems you loved not her, not leave her token: She is dead belike? Alas. I cannot choose but pity her. Because, me thinks that she loved you as well As you do love your Lady Silvia : She dreams on him, that has forgotten her love, You dote on her, that cares not for your love. It's pity Love, should be so contrary: And thinking on it, makes me cry alas. How many women would do such a message? Alas poor Protheus, thou hast entertained A Fox, to be the Shepherd of thy Lambs; Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him That with his very heart despises me? Because he loves her, he despises me, Because I love him, I must pity him. This Ring I gave him, when he parted from me, To bind him to remember my good will: And now am I (unhappy Messenger) To plead for that, which I would not obtain; To carry that, which I would have refused; To praise his faith, which I would have dispraised. I am my Master's true confirmed Love, But cannot be true servant to my Master, Unless I prove false traitor to my self. Yet will I woe for him but yet so coldly, As (heaven it knows) I would not have him speed. Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam. I, Madam. Madam, please you peruse this Letter; Pardon me (Madam) I have unadvised Delivered you a paper that I should not; This is the Letter to your Ladyship. It may not be: good Madam pardon me. Madam, he sends your Ladyship this Ring. She thanks you. I thank you Madam, that you tender her: Poor Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much. Almost as well as I do know my self. To think upon her woes, I do protest That I have wept a hundred several times. I think she does: and that's her cause of sorrow She hath been fairer (Madam) then she is, When she did think my Master loved her well; She, in my judgement, was as fair as you. But since she did neglect her lookingglass, And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away, The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks, And pinched the lilly-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I. About my stature: for at Pentecost, When all our Pageants of delight were played, Our youth God me to play the woman's partly, And I was trimmed in Madam Julius gown, Which served me as fit, by all men's judgements, As if the garment had been made for me: Therefore I know she is about my height, And at that time I made her weep a good. For I did play a lamentable partly. (Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning For Thesus perjury, and unjust flight; Which I so lively acted with my tears: That my poor Mistress moved therewithal, Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow. And she shall thank you for't, if ere you know her. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. I hope my Master's suit will be but cold, Since she respects my Mistress love so much. Alas, how love can trisle with it self: Here is her Picture: let me see, I think If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine Were full as lovely, as is this of hers; And yet the Painter flattered her a little, Unless I flatter with my self too much. Her hair is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow ; If that be all the difference in his love, I'll get me such a coloured Perrywig: Her eyes are gray as glass, and so are mine: I, but her forehead's low, and mine as high: What should it be that he respects in her, But I can make respective in my self? If this found Love, were not a blinded God. Come shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For it's thy rival: Oh thou senseless form. Thou shalt be worshipped, kissed, loved, and adored; And were there sense in his Idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I'll use thee kindly, for thy Mistress sake That used me so: or else by Jove, I vow, I should have scratched out your unseeing eyes, To make my Master out of love with thee. But better indeed, when you hold you peace. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. True: from a Gentleman, to a fool. That such and Ass should owe them. Here comes the Duke. And I will follow, more to cross that love Then hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. And me, when he approaches to your presence O me unhappy. Oh good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia : w c (out of my neglect) was never done. Here it's this is it. O, cry you mercy sir, I have mistook: This is the ring you sent to Silvia. And Julia her self did give it me, And Julia her self hath brought it hither. Behold her, that gave aim to all thy oaths, And entertained they deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root? O Protheus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me, Such and immodest raiment; if shame live In a disguise of love? It is the lesser blot modesty finds, Women to change their shapes, then men their minds. And I mine. What thinkest thou of the fair sir Eglamoure ? What thinkest thou of the rich Mercatio? What thinkest thou of the gentle Protheus ? How now? what means this passion at his name? Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest? What is't that you Took up so gingerly? Why didst thou stoop then? Heavy? belike it hath some burden then? And why not you? Let's see your Song: How now Minion? You do not? You (Minion) are too saucy. The mean is drowned with you unruly base. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me; Here is a coil with protestation: Go, get you gone: and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me. 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: Look, here is writ, kind Julia : unkind Julia, As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. And here is writ, Love wounded Protheus. Poor wounded name: my bosom, as a bed, Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly healed; And thus I search it with a sovereign 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 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 Protheus, passionate Protheus : To the sweet Julia: that isle 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. Well, let us go. If you respect them; best to take them up. I see you have a months mind to them. Come, come, wilt please you go. Marry (mine Host ) because I cannot be merry. But shall I hear him speak. That will be Music. Is he among these? You mistake: the Musician likes me not. He plays false (father.) Not so: but yet So false that he grieves my very heartstrings. I, I would I were deaf: it makes me have a slow heart. Not a whit, when it jars so. I: that change is the spite. I would always have one play but one thing. But Host, does this Sir Protheus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this Gentlewoman? Where is Lance ? Peace, stand aside, the company parts. 'Twere false, if I should speak it; For I am sure she is not buried. In what you please, isle do what I can.