Lu. Please you repeat their names, ile shew my minde, According to my shallow simple skill

Iu. What thinkst thou of the faire sir Eglamoure? Lu. As of a Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine; But were I you, he neuer should be mine

Iu. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Lu. Well of his wealth; but of himselfe, so, so

Iu. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus? Lu. Lord, Lord: to see what folly raignes in vs

Iu. How now? what meanes this passion at his name? Lu. Pardon deare Madam, 'tis a passing shame, That I (vnworthy body as I am) Should censure thus on louely Gentlemen

Iu. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest? Lu. Then thus: of many good, I thinke him best

Iul. Your reason? Lu. I haue no other but a womans reason: I thinke him so, because I thinke him so

Iul. And would'st thou haue me cast my loue on him? Lu. I: if you thought your loue not cast away

Iul. Why he, of all the rest, hath neuer mou'd me

Lu. Yet he, of all the rest, I thinke best loues ye

Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small

Lu. Fire that's closest kept, burnes most of all

Iul. They doe not loue, that doe not shew their loue

Lu. Oh, they loue least, that let men know their loue

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

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