LUCETTA.
I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire,
But qualify the fire’s extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
JULIA.
The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with th’ enamelled 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 doth in Elysium.
LUCETTA.
But in what habit will you go along?
JULIA.
Not like a woman, for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men.
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
LUCETTA.
Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair.
JULIA.
No, girl, I’ll knit it up in silken strings
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
LUCETTA.
What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
JULIA.
That fits as well as “Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?”
Why e’en what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta.
LUCETTA.
You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
JULIA.
Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favoured.