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Pro.

Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wrack,

Which cannot perish having thee aboard,

Being destin’d to a drier death on shore.

[Exit Speed.]

I must go send some better messenger:

I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,

Receiving them from such a worthless post.

Exit

¶

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul.

But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,

Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?

Luc.

Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.

Jul.

Of all the fair resort of gentlemen

That every day with parle encounter me,

In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Luc.

Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind

According to my shallow simple skill.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?

Luc.

As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;

But were I you, he never should be mine.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?

Luc.

Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.

Jul.

What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?

Luc.

Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!