Here is a coil with
protestation!
Shakespeare
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA. You do not!
LUCETTA. No, madam; 'tis too sharp.
JULIA. You, minion, are too saucy.
LUCETTA. Nay, now you are too flat
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant;
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
JULIA. The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA. 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 fing'ring them, to anger me.
LUCETTA. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd
To be so ang'red with another letter. Exit
JULIA. Nay, would I were so ang'red 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 heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
