Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare: A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares, And instances of infinite of Loue, Warrant me welcome to my Protheus
Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men
Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect; But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth, His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles, His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart, His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth
Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him
Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong, To beare a hard opinion of his truth: Onely deserue my loue, by louing him, And presently goe with me to my chamber To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me vpon my longing iourney: All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose, My goods, my Lands, my reputation, Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence: Come; answere not: but to it presently, I am impatient of my tarriance.