LUCETTA. As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine; But, were I you, he never should be mine. JULIA. What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio? LUCETTA. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so-so. JULIA. What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus? LUCETTA. Lord, Lord, to see what folly reigns in us! JULIA. How now? What means this passion at his name? LUCETTA. Pardon, dear madam, ’tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. JULIA. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? LUCETTA. Then thus: of many good I think him best. JULIA. Your reason? LUCETTA. I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so because I think him so. JULIA. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? LUCETTA. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. JULIA. Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me. LUCETTA. Yet he of all the rest I think best loves ye. JULIA. His little speaking shows his love but small. LUCETTA. Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all. 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. Peruse this paper, madam. [_Gives her a letter._] 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; 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. [_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.