Julia speaks with passionate conviction and constant self-contradiction — she says one thing and immediately does another, then scolds herself for it. Watch for her habit of performing indifference and then dropping it the moment she's alone.
But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
But tell me, Lucetta, now that we're alone, would you advise me to fall in love?
Lucetta, real talk—now that it's just us, would you tell me to fall for someone?
should i fall in love? what do u think
Lucetta delivers her sharpest opinions in rhyming couplets — she's witty and efficient, saying much in few words, and often letting a single line expose the ridiculousness of Julia's self-deception. Watch for how her brevity does more damage than any long speech.
Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.
Yes, madam, as long as you're not careless in what you say.
Sure, as long as you don't slip up.
yeah just be careful don't say something dumb
Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
Of all the fine gentlemen who visit me daily and talk with me, which one in your opinion is most worthy of my love?
All these well-dressed guys who come talk to me every day—which one do you think I should fall for?
all these guys who come see me which one should i love?
Please you, repeat their names, I’ll show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.
If you'll tell me their names, I'll give you my honest opinion of each.
If you name them, I'll tell you what I think about each one.
list them out and i'll give you my real opinion
What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
What's your opinion of the handsome Sir Eglamour?
Okay, what about Sir Eglamour? The good-looking one?
what about sir eglamour
As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;
But, were I you, he never should be mine.
He's a knight who speaks well, looks elegant, and is refined; but if I were you, I'd never choose him for myself.
He's a guy with good manners, he looks great, he's got style—but honestly, if I were you, he wouldn't be my pick.
he's handsome and smooth but nah i'd pass
What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?
What about the wealthy Mercatio?
What about Mercatio? The rich guy?
what about mercatio
Well of his wealth; but of himself, so-so.
His money is impressive. As for him personally, he's just mediocre.
Rich, yeah. But the guy himself? Meh.
money's good but he's so-so
What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?
What's your opinion of the kind Proteus?
Okay, what about Proteus? The nice one?
what about proteus
Lord, Lord, to see what folly reigns in us!
Oh my goodness, what foolishness rules us!
Wow, look at the foolishness in us.
lord what fools we are
How now? What means this passion at his name?
What's wrong? Why do you react so strongly when I mention his name?
Wait, why are you getting all emotional just hearing his name?
why u getting upset? at his name?
Pardon, dear madam, ’tis a passing shame
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
Forgive me, dear madam, it's truly shameful that someone as unworthy as I am should judge these fine gentlemen.
Forgive me, madam, it's really embarrassing for someone like me to be criticizing these wonderful gentlemen.
sorry it's shameful for me to judge them
Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Why not about Proteus like the others?
What about Proteus? Don't you have an opinion on him too?
what about proteus tho?
Then thus: of many good I think him best.
In that case, among all the good men, I think he's the best.
Of all the decent guys out there, I think he's the best one.
he's the best of them all
Your reason?
Your reason?
Why do you think that?
why tho?
I have no other but a woman’s reason:
I think him so because I think him so.
A woman just knows these things—there's no other reason for it.
Honestly? Women's intuition. No real logic to it.
women's reason no explanation just know
And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
Do you think I should give my love to him?
Are you saying I should fall in love with him?
u want me to love him?
Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
Yes, if you believed your love wouldn't be wasted.
Sure, as long as you think he'd actually appreciate your love.
yeah if ur love isn't wasted
Why, he of all the rest hath never moved me.
Why, of all the men, he's the one who has never stirred my emotions.
The thing is, out of all of them, he's the only one who hasn't really affected me.
he doesn't do anything 2 me like at all
Yet he of all the rest I think best loves ye.
Yet of all of them, I think he loves you most.
But I think out of all those guys, he's the one who loves you the most.
he loves u most of all
His little speaking shows his love but small.
His quiet manner shows that his love is weak or small.
The fact that he doesn't say much just proves he doesn't really love you.
he barely talks so he prob doesn't love u much
Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.
Fire that is kept most tightly contained burns with the greatest intensity.
The fire that's kept hidden the most is actually burning hardest inside.
the fire that's most hidden burns the strongest
They do not love that do not show their love.
Besides, people who don't show their love don't really love at all.
Also, if you're in love, you have to actually show it. That's real love.
and another thing if you love someone you show it that's how we know it's real
O, they love least that let men know their love.
Those who openly show their love to men actually love the least.
The ones who advertise their love the most are usually the ones who care the least.
people who show their love openly love the least
I would I knew his mind.
I wish I knew what he's thinking.
I really want to know what's going on in his head.
wish i knew what he thinks
Peruse this paper, madam.
Look at this paper, madam.
Check out this letter, ma'am.
read this its a letter
Julia's elaborate performance of rejection is not hypocrisy in the modern sense — it's following the social script of her era. A well-bred woman in Elizabethan England was expected to refuse letters, express shock at being courted, and only accept love after appropriate resistance. This performance protected her reputation. Julia even names the rule herself: 'maids in modesty say No to that / Which they would have the profferer construe Ay.' The system required women to say no and men to keep asking. It was designed to protect women from social censure — but it also, as Julia notices, leaves them tearing up letters they desperately wanted to keep. Shakespeare gives Julia enough self-awareness to see the absurdity of the game she's required to play.
_To Julia_—Say, from whom?
It says 'To Julia'—who sent it?
It's addressed to me. Who is it from?
to me?? from who??
That the contents will show.
The letter will tell you.
You'll find out when you read it.
read it & find out
Say, say, who gave it thee?
Tell me, tell me, who gave it to you?
Come on, who delivered this to you?
who gave it to u?
Sir Valentine’s page, and sent, I think, from Proteus.
He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it. Pardon the fault, I pray.
Valentine's servant, and it came, I believe, from Proteus. He wanted to give it to you himself, but since I was there, I accepted it for you. Forgive me for this mistake, I beg you.
It's from Valentine's page—from Proteus, I think. He wanted to hand it to you directly, but I was there so I took it on your behalf. I'm really sorry for overstepping.
valentine's page from proteus maybe i took it for u sorry
Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now trust me, ’tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper; see it be returned,
Or else return no more into my sight.
Now, by my honour, what a fine job! Do you dare keep romantic words hidden, whisper and plot against my innocence? Really, this is an important role, and you're exactly right for it. Here, take the letter and return it to him, or else don't ever show your face to me again.
Well, aren't you doing a great job! You're hiding love letters and trying to turn my head? You know what, you're perfect for this work. Take this and get it back to him, or I don't want to see you anymore.
great job yet you're hiding love letters return this or get out
To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
To advocate for love deserves greater reward than advocating for hate.
Arguing for love should get better treatment than pushing people to hate.
love deserves better than hate
Will ye be gone?
Will you please leave?
Are you going to go now?
go away
That you may ruminate.
So you can think about it.
So you can think things over.
so u can think about it
And yet I would I had o’erlooked the letter.
It were a shame to call her back again
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
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 enforced my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!
And yet I wish I hadn't torn up the letter. It would be shameful to call her back now and scold her for something I actually wanted her to do. What kind of fool doesn't understand that when a young woman like me says no, she really means yes? Oh no, how ridiculous this love is! It's like a cranky baby that scratches the nurse then hugs her. How harsh I was with Lucetta when I actually wanted her to stay! How I forced my face to frown when inside I was happy! Now my punishment is to call her back and ask her to forgive me for my foolishness. Lucetta, come back!
I wish I hadn't torn up that letter. It would be so embarrassing to call her back now and yell at her for something I wanted her to do. What kind of idiot doesn't know that when a girl like me says no, she means yes? This love thing is so stupid—it's like a grumpy baby scratching you then wanting to hug you. I was so mean to Lucetta when I really wanted her to stay. I put on this angry face when really I was smiling. Now I have to call her back and apologize for being such a fool. Lucetta, get back here!
wish i didn't tear it up would be embarrassing i said no but meant yes love is so stupid like a cranky baby was mean to lucetta was smiling inside needs to come back
What would your ladyship?
What do you need, my lady?
What do you want?
what u need?
Is ’t near dinner time?
Is it nearly dinner time?
Is it almost time for dinner?
dinner time soon?
I would it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat
And not upon your maid.
I wish it were, so you could satisfy your hunger with food instead of taking your anger out on your maid.
I wish it was, so you could eat instead of yelling at me.
wish it was so u'd eat not yell at me
What is’t that you took up so gingerly?
What did you just pick up so carefully?
What were you so carefully picking up just now?
what were u picking up tho??
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
nothing
Why didst thou stoop, then?
Then why did you bend down?
Then why were you bending down like that?
so why were u bending??
To take a paper up that I let fall.
To pick up a piece of paper I dropped.
To pick up a paper that I had dropped.
to pick up a paper i dropped
And is that paper nothing?
Does that paper mean nothing?
So that paper means nothing?
that paper's nothing tho??
Nothing concerning me.
Nothing that concerns me.
Nothing about me.
nothing about me
Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
Then let it rest for whoever it concerns.
Then let it be for whoever it's meant for.
leave it for whoever needs it
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
Madam, the letter won't stay in its proper place unless someone twists its meaning.
It won't just sit there—it belongs with the person it's meant for unless someone gets it wrong.
letter won't stay unless someone lies
Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
Some man in love with you has written you a poem.
Some guy who's in love with you wrote you verses.
some guy in love wrote u a poem
That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
Give me a note. Your ladyship can set—
So I could sing it to music, madam. Give me a note. You're skilled at setting the tune—
So I could sing it as a song. Give me a melody to go with. You're good at composing—
so i can sing it give me a tune u can set it
As little by such toys as may be possible.
Best sing it to the tune of “Light o’ Love”.
Value such frivolities as little as possible. Best sing it to the tune of "Light o' Love".
Take love poems about as seriously as you possibly can—which is not much. Go ahead and sing it to that "Light o' Love" tune.
dont care about this stuff sing it to light o love
Torn letters are a recurring motif in early Shakespeare — in this play alone, letters are torn, intercepted, misdelivered, and written anonymously. The torn-letter scene here is comic and touching: Julia destroys the thing she most wants and then picks up the pieces literally. But notice what she does with the fragments: she separates her name from Proteus's name, stamps on her own, and cherishes his. There's something psychologically precise here — she knows she's punishing herself by throwing away the letter, so she punishes only the version of herself that was too cold. The scene prefigures the entire play's drama: people who hurt the ones who love them, often including themselves.
It is too heavy for so light a tune.
It's too serious for such a light song.
That's too heavy for such a light tune.
too serious for that song
Heavy? Belike it hath some burden then?
Heavy? Perhaps it has a refrain or burden then?
Heavy like sad? Maybe it has a repeated chorus?
heavy? so it has a chorus?
Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it.
Yes, and it would sound beautiful if you sang it.
Yes, it would sound lovely coming from you.
would sound nice if u sang it
And why not you?
And why won't you sing it?
Why don't you sing it yourself?
why not u?
I cannot reach so high.
I cannot hit those high notes.
I can't reach those notes.
can't sing that high
Let’s see your song. [_Taking the letter_.]
How now, minion!
Let me see your poem. Wait, what is this here?
Show me what you wrote. Hold on, what's this?
show me the poem what's this?
Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out.
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
Keep that melody steady while you sing through it. But honestly, I don't care for this tune.
Hold that note while you're singing. But I have to say, I don't like the way it sounds.
keep the tune but i don't like it
You do not?
You do not?
you do not?
you do not?
No, madam, it is too sharp.
No, madam, it's too high and sharp.
No, the notes are too high.
it's too sharp
You, minion, are too saucy.
You, impertinent girl, are being too cheeky.
You're being too fresh, young lady.
ur too cheeky
Nay, now you are too flat
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
No, now you're going too flat and ruining the harmony with your harsh voice. All we need is a middle voice to complete the song.
No, you're going flat and messing up everything with your ugly tone. We just need someone singing the middle part to make it work.
ur flat now ruining harmony we need a middle voice
The mean is drowned with your unruly bass.
The middle voice is being overwhelmed by your wild low notes.
The middle part is getting buried under your loud low voice.
middle's buried in ur loud voice
Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
Indeed, I'm singing the bass part for Proteus.
I'm singing the bass line for Proteus.
i'm singing bass for proteus
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.
This chatter won't trouble me anymore. What a fuss over this letter! Go away and leave the papers alone. You'd just keep handling them to upset me more.
This nonsense stops now. What a ridiculous fuss over a love letter! Get out of here and leave those pages on the ground. You'd just keep touching them to make me angrier.
this babble stops now go away stop touching papers
She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased
To be so angered with another letter.
She pretends not to care, but she would actually be happiest if she got another letter to get angry about.
She's acting like she doesn't care, but she'd love nothing more than to get another angry letter to tear up.
she's pretending but she'd love another letter
Nay, would I were so angered 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 healed;
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
Except mine own name. That some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,
And throw it thence into the raging sea.
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ:
_Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia._ That I’ll tear away;
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one upon another.
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Oh, I wish I were this angry about something else! Oh no, why did I tear up such beautiful words? I'm like some harmful insect that eats the sweetest honey and kills the bee that made it! I need to apologize to every piece. It says 'kind Julia'—but I was unkind to Julia! I'll stomp on my own name like I'm furious at myself. It says 'love-struck Proteus.' His poor wounded name! My heart will be a shelter for his name while his wounds heal, and I'll soothe it with a kiss. His name shows up twice on this line. Oh, please, don't blow these words away until I find every single letter—except my name, that can blow away into some terrible cliff and fall into the violent sea. Look, his name appears twice: 'Poor suffering Proteus, passionate Proteus, for the sweet Julia.' I want to tear that away but I won't—because he wrote it so beautifully with his own loving name right before it. Now I'll fold all these pieces together. Now kiss each other, hold each other, fight, do whatever you want.
I wish I could feel this angry about something else! Oh, why did I tear up such beautiful words? I'm like some nasty bug that eats sweet honey and kills the bee that made it! I should apologize to each piece. It says 'dear Julia'—but I was unkind to Julia! I'll stomp on my own name like I hate myself. It says 'love-struck Proteus.' Poor guy! My heart will be his home while he gets over this, and I'll kiss it to make it better. His name shows up twice. Please, please, don't blow any of these words away until I find every letter—except mine, that can blow into some horrible place. Look, his name's written twice: 'Poor suffering Proteus, passionate Proteus, for the sweet Julia.' I want to tear that part away but I won't—because he wrote it so beautifully with his heart right before it. I'm putting all these pieces together now. Let them kiss each other, hold each other, fight, do whatever.
wish i was angry tore up beautiful words i'm like a harmful bug sorry dear julia i was unkind stomping on ur name love-struck proteus his name twice can't tear it away he wrote beautiful put pieces together let them kiss fight whatever
Madam, dinner is ready, and your father stays.
Madam, dinner is prepared and your father is waiting.
Dinner's ready, and your dad's waiting.
dinner ready dad waiting
Well, let us go.
All right, let's go.
Okay, let's go.
ok let's go
What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
Should we leave these papers here like gossips to give us away?
Should we just leave these papers here where they'll give everything away?
leave papers here? they'll tell on us
If you respect them, best to take them up.
If you care about them, you should pick them up.
If they matter to you, you should probably grab them.
u care? pick them up
Nay, I was taken up for laying them down.
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
No, I already got scolded for leaving them here. But I won't leave them lying here to fall apart.
No, I got in trouble for dropping them in the first place. But I'm not going to let them sit here and get destroyed.
got scolded for dropping them won't leave them
I see you have a month’s mind to them.
I see you have a strong longing for them.
I can tell you really want to keep them.
u really want them
Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Yes, madam, you can tell what you observe, and I see things too, even though you think I'm not looking.
You can see what you see, and I can see things too, even if you think I'm not paying attention.
u see things i see things too even if u think i'm blind
Come, come, will’t please you go?
Come now, will you please go?
Come on, let's get moving.
let's go
The Reckoning
Julia's opening question — 'should I fall in love?' — is already rhetorical; she's been in love the whole time. The scene is a brilliant study in self-deception: every time Julia is harshest with Lucetta about Proteus's letter, she moves a step closer to devouring it. By the end, she's kissing torn scraps of paper with her name and his name on them. The audience is left charmed and slightly heartbroken — Julia's love is the most real thing in the play, and she's about to be badly hurt by it.
If this happened today…
You tell your best friend you're definitely not interested in the guy who just slid into your DMs. She shows you his message. You make her delete it off your phone. She leaves the room. You immediately go back through your deleted messages, piece together what you can read, and spend twenty minutes zooming in on the fragments. You are absolutely not interested. You just want to see what he said.