What fool is she, that knows I am a maid
And would not force the letter to my view!
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?