Iul. I would I knew his minde
Lu. Peruse this paper Madam
Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom?
Lu. That the Contents will shew
Iul. Say, say: who gaue it thee?
Lu. Sir Valentines page: & sent I think from Protheus;
He would haue giuen it you, but I being in the way,
Did in your name receiue it: pardon the fault I pray
Iul. 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 return'd,
Or else returne no more into my sight
Lu. To plead for loue, deserues more fee, then hate
Iul. Will ye be gon?
Lu. That you may ruminate.
Enter.
Iul. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter;
It were a shame to call her backe againe,
And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.
What 'foole is she, that knowes I am a Maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since Maides, in modesty, say no, to that,
Which they would haue the profferer construe, I.
Fie, fie: how way-ward is this foolish loue;
That (like a testie Babe) will scratch the Nurse,
And presently, all humbled kisse the Rod?
How churlishly, I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly, I would haue had her here?
How angerly I taught my brow to frowne,
When inward ioy enforc'd my heart to smile?
My pennance is, to call Lucetta backe
And aske remission, for my folly past.
What hoe: Lucetta
Lu. What would your Ladiship?
Iul. Is't neere dinner time?
Lu. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomacke on your meat,
And not vpon your Maid