HOST.
You have a quick ear.
JULIA.
Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart.
HOST.
I perceive you delight not in music.
JULIA.
Not a whit, when it jars so.
HOST.
Hark, what fine change is in the music!
JULIA.
Ay, that change is the spite.
HOST.
You would have them always play but one thing?
JULIA.
I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Sir Proteus, that we talk on,
Often resort unto this gentlewoman?
HOST.
I tell you what Lance, his man, told me: he loved her out of all nick.
JULIA.
Where is Lance?