[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.]