JULIA.
And why not you?
LUCETTA.
I cannot reach so high.
JULIA.
Let’s see your song. [Taking the letter.]
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, it is 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.