JULIA	Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

LUCETTA	Madam, it will not lie where it concerns
	Unless it have a false interpeter.

JULIA	Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

LUCETTA	That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
	Give me a note: your ladyship can set.

JULIA	As little by such toys as may be possible.
	Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'

LUCETTA	It is too heavy for so light a tune.

JULIA	Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?

LUCETTA	Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.

JULIA	And why not you?

LUCETTA	                  I cannot reach so high.

JULIA	Let's see your song. 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 drown'd with your unruly bass.

LUCETTA	Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.

JULIA	This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
	Here is a coil with protestation!

	[Tears the letter]

	Go get you gone, and let the papers lie:
	You would be fingering them, to anger me.

LUCETTA	She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased
	To be so anger'd with another letter.

	[Exit]

JULIA	 Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same!
	O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
	Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
	And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
	I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
	Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
	As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
	I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
	Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
	And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
	Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
	Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
	And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
	But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
	Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
	Till I have found each letter in the letter,
	Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
	Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
	And throw it thence into the raging sea!
	Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
	'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
	To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
	And yet I will not, sith so prettily
	He couples it to his complaining names.
	Thus will I fold them one on another:
	Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

	[Re-enter LUCETTA]

LUCETTA	Madam,
	Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

JULIA	Well, let us go.

LUCETTA	What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?

JULIA	If you respect them, best to take them up.

LUCETTA	Nay, I was taken up for laying them down:
	Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.

JULIA	I see you have a month's mind to them.

LUCETTA	Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
	I see things too, although you judge I wink.