Mount not the rose so soon! He must not see it
A month hence. 'Tis loves flower, which once she wears,
The maid is all his own.

Julia. Go to!

Helen. Be sure
He comes to woo thee! He will bear thee hence;
He'll make thee change the country for the town.

Julia. I'm constancy. Name he the town to me,
I'll tell what I think on't!

Helen. Then you guess
He comes a wooing?

Julia. I guess nought.

Helen. You do!
At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile,
And show them to be traitors. Hie to him.

Julia. Hie thee to soberness.

[Goes out.]

Helen. Ay, will I, when,
Thy bridemaid, I shall hie to church with thee.
Well, Fathom, who is come?