ACT II. SCENE I. Changes to Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Valentine and Speed. IR, your glove SIR SPEED. Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is but one. Val. Ha! let me fee: ay, give it me, it's mine: Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! Speed. She is not within hearing, Sir. Speed. And yet I was laft chidden for being too flow. 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 learn'd, like Sir Protheus, to wreath your arms like a male-content; to relish a love-fong, like a Robin-red-breaft; to walk alone, like one that had the peftilence; to figh, like a fchool-boy that had loft 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 Hallowmafs. You were wont, when when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock ; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fafted, it was presently after dinner; when you look'd fadly, it was for want of money; and now you are metamorphos'd with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my mafter. Val. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? Speed. They are all perceiv'd without Val. Without me? they cannot. ye. Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for without you were so fimple, none elfe would; But you are fo without these Follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye that fees you, but is a phyfician to comment on your malady. Val. But tell me, doft thou know my lady Silvia? Speed. She, that you gaze on fo as fhe fits at fupper? Val. Haft thou obferv'd that? ev'n fhe I mean. Speed. Why, Sir, 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, Sir? Val. Not fo fair, boy, as well-favour'd. Speed. That fhe is not fo fair, as of you well-fayour'd. Val. I mean that her beauty is exquifite, 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, fo painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. Val. How efleem'ft thou me? I account of her beauty. Speed. You never faw her fince fhe was deform'd. Val. How long has fhe been deform'd ? Speed. Speed. Ever fince you lov'd her. Val. I have lov'd her, ever since I saw her; Speed. If you love her, you cannot fee her. had Speed. Becaufe love is blind. O, that you mine eyes, or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have, when you chid at Sir Protheus for going ungarter'd! Val. What fhould I fee then? Speed. Your own present folly, and her paffing deformity: For he, being in love, could not fee to garter his hofe; and you, being in love, cannot fee to put on your hofe. Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love for last morning you could not fee to wipe my fhoes. Speed. True, Sir, I was in love with my bed; I thank you, 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 ceafe. Val. Laft night fhe injoin'd me to write fome lines to one fhe 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. Oh excellent motion! Oh exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good mor rows. Speed. Oh! give ye good ev'n; here's a million of manners. Sil. Sir Valentine and fervant, to you two thousand. Speed. Speed. He fhould give her intereft; and fhe gives it him. Val. As you injoin'd me, I have writ your letter, Unto the fecret, nameless, friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, Sil. I thank you, gentle fervant; 'tis very clerkly done. Val. Now truft 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 fo much pains ? Val. No, madam, so it fteed you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much. And yetSil. A pretty period; well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it; and I yet care not; And yet take this again, and I thank you; Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet. yet [Afide. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it ? Sil. Yes, yes, the lines are very quaintly writ; 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 ladyfhip another. Sil. And when it's writ, for my fake read it over; And if it please you, fo; if not, why fo. Val. If it pleafe me, madam, what then? Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour; And fo good morrow, servant. Speed, O jeft unseen, infcrutable, invisible, [Exit. As As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a fteeple ! 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 fcribe, to himself should write the letter? Val. How now, Sir, 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 spokesman from madam Silvia. Speed. To yourfelf; why, fhe wooes you by a figure. Val. What figure? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, he hath not writ to me? Speed. What need fhe, When the hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jeft? 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, fhe hath given you a letter. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath fhe 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 modefty, cover, Herfelf hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. All this I fpeak in print; for in print I found it. Why |