walk alone like one that had the peftilence, to figh like a fchool-boy that had loft his ABC, to weep like a young wench that had loft her grandam, to faft like one that takes diet, to watch like one that fears robbing, to speak puling like a beggar at Hallowmafs. You were wont, 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 matamorphos'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. They are all perceiv'd without ye.

Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for without you were fo fimple, none elfe would: But you are so without thefe follies, that these follies are within you, and fhine 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 the 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 the not hard-favour'd, Sir?

Val. Not fo fair, boy, as well-favour'd.
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.

Val. What doft thou know?

Speed. That fhe is not fo fair, as of you well favour'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 efteem'ft thou me? I account of her beauty.
Speed. You never faw her fince she was deform'd,
Fal. How long hath the been deform'd ?

Speed,

Speed. Ever fince you lov'd her.

Val. I have lov'd her eyer fince I saw her,
And ftill I fee her beautiful.

Speed. If you love her, you cannot fee her.
Val. Why?

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 Sir Protheus for going ungarter'd!

Val. What fhould I fee then?

Speed. Your own prefent 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 cease.

Val. Laft night fhe enjoin'd me to write fome 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 fhe comes.

Enter Silvia.

Speed. Oh excellent motion! oh exceeding puppet!
Now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.
Speed. Oh! 'give you 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 injoin'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.

N 2

Val.

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 so much pains? Val. No, Madam, so it fteed 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; yet

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. [Afide, Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; But fince 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 fake read it over;
And if it please you, fo; if not, why fo.
Val. If it please me, Madam, what then?

Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour;
And fo good-morrow, fervant.

[Exit. Speed. Oh jeft unseen, infcrutable, invifible, as a nofe

on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple !
My mafter fues to her, and the hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor :

Oh excellent device! was there ever heard a better?
That my mafter, being the scribe, to himself fhould write
the letter?

Val. How now, Sir? what are you reafoning with yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reafon. Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a fpokes-man from Madam Silvia.

Val. To whom?

Speed. To your felf; why, the wooes you by a figure. Val. What figure?

Speed

Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Val. Why, the hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need fhe,

When she hath made you write to your felf?

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, the hath given you a letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

[end.

Speed. And that letter hath the deliver'd, and there's an
Val. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often have you writ to her, and fhe in modefty,
Or elfe for want of idle time, could not again reply;

Or fearing elfe fome meffenger that might her mind difcover,
Her felf hath taught her love himfelf to write unto her lover.
All this I fpeak in print; for in print I found it.
Why mufe you, Sir; 'tis dinner-time.

Val. I have din'd.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, Sir; tho' the Cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would fain have meat: oh, be not like your mifirefs; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to Verona.
Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.

Jul. I muft, where is no remedy.

Pro. When poffibly I can, I will return.

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 the Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kifs. 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 mifchance Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness! My father ftays my coming; anfwer not :

The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of tears;
That tide will flay me longer than I fhould: [Exit Julia,
Julia, farewel. What! gone without a word?
Ay, fo true love fhould do; it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
Enter Panthion.

Pant. Sir Protheus, you are ftaid for.
Pro. Go; I come.

[Exeunt.

Alas! this parting ftrikes poor lovers dumb. SCENE III. Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. 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 Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab my dog be the fowreft-natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our houfe in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur fhed one tear! he is a ftone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a few would have wept to have seen our parting why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept her felf blind at my parting. Nay, I'll fhow you the manner of it: this fhce is my father; no, this left fhoe is my father; no, no, this left fhoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be fo neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole; this fhoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't, there 'tis: now, Sir, this ftaff is my fifter; for, look you, fhe is as white as a lilly, and as fmall as a wand; this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himself, and I am me: ay, the dog is the dog, and I am myfelf; ay, fo, fo; now come I to my father; father, your blefling! now fhould not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now fhould I kiss my father; well, he weeps on: now come. I to my mother; oh that the fhoe could fpeak now like an old woman! well, I kifs her; why, there 'tis here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my fifter; mark the moan the makes: now the dog all this while fheds not a tear, no. fpeaks a word; but fee, how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter