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Jul.

How now? what means this passion at his name?

Luc.

Pardon, dear madam, ’tis a passing shame

That I (unworthy body as I am)

Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

Jul.

Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?

Luc.

Then thus: of many good I think him best.

Jul.

Your reason?

Luc.

I have no other but a woman’s reason:

I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul.

And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?

Luc.

Ay—if you thought your love not cast away.

Jul.

Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov’d me.

Luc.

Yet he, of all the rest, I think best loves ye.

Jul.

His little speaking shows his love but small.

Luc.

Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.

Jul.

They do not love that do not show their love.

Luc.

O, they love least that let men know their love.

Jul.

I would I knew his mind.

Luc.

Peruse this paper, madam.

Jul.

“To Julia”—say, from whom?

Luc.

That the contents will show.

Jul.

Say, say; who gave it thee?

Luc.

Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.