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Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia!
Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam
Speed. She that your worship loves?
Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A. B. C.; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.2 You were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my
Val. Are all these things perceived in me?
Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in a urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? (2) Allhallowmas.
(1) Under a regimen.
Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
Val. Hast thou observ'd that? even she I mean.
Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not?
Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir?
Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well favoured.
Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.
Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.
Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.
Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.
Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.
Val. How long hath she been deformed?
Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still I see her beautiful.
Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.
Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus for ing ungartered!
Val. What should I see then?
Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.
Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.
Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.
Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease.
Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.
Speed. And have you?
Val. I have.
Speed. Are they not lamely writ?
Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :Peace, here she comes.
Speed. O excellent motion !2 O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her.
Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good
Speed. O, 'give you good even! here's a million of manners. [Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
Speed. He should give her interest; and she gives it him.
Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter, Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly3 done.
Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully.
Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
(2) A puppet-show.
(3) Like a scholar.
Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet,
Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it :--and yet I care not;And yet take this again;-and yet I thank you; Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet.
[Aside. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not
Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ: But since unwillingly, take them again; Nay, take them.
Val. Madam, they are for you.
Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request: But I will none of them; they are for you: I would have had them writ more movingly.
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over: And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour; And so good-morrow, servant. [Exit Silvia. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?
Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?
Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have
Val. To do what?
Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia,
Speed. To yourself: why, she woos you by a
Val. What figure?
Speed. By a letter, I should say.
Val. Why, she hath not writ to me.
Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest?
Val. No, believe me.
Speed. No believing you indeed, sir: but did you perceive her earnest?
Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.
Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.1
Val. I would, it were no worse.
Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well.
For often you have writ to her; and she, in
Or else for want of idle time, could not again
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover,
Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.
All this I speak in print; for in print I found it.— Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time.
Val. I have dined.
Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the cameleon, Love, can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt.
(1) There's the conclusion.