Lucetta

Julia 
A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;
Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings to fly,
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
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Julia
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid a journey?
I fear me it will make me scandalized.
Lucetta
If you think so, then stay at home and go not.
Julia
Nay, that I will not.
Lucetta
Then never dream on infamy,
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