The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Уильям Шекспир

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       Since maids, in modesty, say ‘No’ to that

       Which they would have the profferer construe ‘Ay.’

       Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,

       That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,

       And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!

       How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,

       When willingly I would have had her here:

       How angerly I taught my brow to frown,

       When inward joy enforc’d my heart to smile.

       My penance is, to call Lucetta back

       And ask remission for my folly past.

       What ho! Lucetta!

       [Re-enter LUCETTA.]

       LUCETTA.

       What would your ladyship?

       JULIA.

       Is it near dinner time?

       LUCETTA.

       I would it were;

       That you might kill your stomach on your meat

       And not upon your maid.

       JULIA.

       What is’t that you took up so gingerly?

       LUCETTA.

       Nothing.

       JULIA.

       Why didst thou stoop, then?

       LUCETTA.

       To take a paper up

       That I let fall.

       JULIA.

       And is that paper nothing?

       LUCETTA.

       Nothing concerning me.

       JULIA.

       Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

       LUCETTA.

       Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,

       Unless it have a false interpreter.

       JULIA.

       Some love of yours hath writ to you in rime.

       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. [Taking the letter.]

       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 pleas’d

       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 throughly 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

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