and now you are metamorphos'd with a mistress; that when I look on you I can hardly think you my master. Val. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for without you were fo fimple, none else would: but you are fo without these follies, that these follies are within you, and fhine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye that sees you, but is a phyfician to comment on your malady. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. Why, fir, I know her not. Val. Doft thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'ft her not? Speed. Is fhe not hard-favour'd, fir? Val. Not fo fair, boy, as well-favour'd. Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. Val. What doft thou know? Speed. That she is not fo fair, as of you well favour'd. 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, fir, fo painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. Val. How efteem'ft thou me? I account of her beauty. Val. How long hath fhe been deform'd? Speed. Ever fince you lov'd her. Vat. I have lov'd her ever fince I faw her, And ftill I fee her beautiful, Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Speed. Speed. Becaufe love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes, or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at fir Protheus for going ungarter'd! Val. What fhould I fee then? Speed. Your own prefent folly, and her paffing deformity : for ĥe, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot fee to put on your hose. Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not fee to wipe my fhoes. you, Speed. True, fir, I was in love with my bed; I thank you fwing'd me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. Val. In conclufion, I ftand affected to her. Speed. I would, you were fet, fo your affection would cease. Val. Laft night the enjoin'd me to write fome lines to one he 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 fhe comes. Enter Silvia. Speed. O excellent motion! o exceeding puppet ! Now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows! Speed. O, 'give ye good ev'n! here's a million of manners. Sil. Sir Valentine and fervant, to you two thousand! Speed. He fhould give her intereft; and fhe gives it him. Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter, Unto the fecret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, gentle fervant; 'tis very clerkly done. For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. Sil. Sil. Perchance, you think too much of so much pains? Sil. A pretty period! well, I guess the sequel; And yet And yet take this again; and yet I thank you; Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet. Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, fir, 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. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour; [afide. [Exit. Speed. O jeft unseen, infcrutable, invifible, as a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My mafter fues to her, and she hath taught her fuitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor : O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my mafter, being the scribe, to himself should write the letter? Val. How now, fir? what are you reasoning with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a fpokes-man from madam Silvia. Val. To whom? Speed. To yourfelf; why, fhe wooes you by a figure. Speed. Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, the hath not writ to me? When she hath made you write to yourself? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you indeed, fir: but did you perceive her earnest? Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, the hath given you a letter. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there's an end. Val. I would, it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: For often have you writ to her, and she in modesty, Or fearing else fome meffenger that might her mind discover, Why muse you, fir? 'tis dinner-time. Val. I have din'd. Speed. Ay, but hearken, fir; though the Cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would fain have meat: o, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. Pro. HA SCENE II. Changes to Verona. Enter Protheus and Julia. TAVE patience, gentle Julia. VOL. I. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the fooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's fake. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why, then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true conftancy : And when that hour o'erflips me in the day, Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake, The next enfuing hour fome foul mischance Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; anfwer not: The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should: Julia, farewel! what! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. Enter Panthion. Pant. Sir Protheus, you are ftay'd for. Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting ftrikes poor lovers dumb. SCENE III. Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. [Exit Julia. [Exeunt. Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious fon, and am going with fir Protheus to the imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourestnatur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruelhearted cur shed one tear! he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a few would have wept to have feen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll fhow you the manner of it: this fhoe is my father; no, this left fhoe is my father; |