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.6 You were wont, when you laughed, 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 master. Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived, without you. Val. Without me? they cannot. 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 an 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? Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? Val. Hast thou observed that?- -even she I mean. Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not? 5 takes diet;] To take diet was the phrase for being under regimen for a disease, mentioned in Timon of Athens: 6 66 - bring down the rose-cheek'd youth "To the tub-fast and the diet." Steevens. Hallowmas.] This is about the feast of All-Saints, when winter begins, and the life of a vagrant becomes less comfortable. Johnson. It is worth remarking, that on All-Saints-Day, the poor people in Staffordshire, and, perhaps, in other country places, go from parish to parish, a souling, as they call it; i. e. begging and puling (or singing small, as Bailey's Dict. explains Puling,) for soulcakes, or any good thing to make them merry. This custom is mentioned by Peck, and seems a remnant of Popish superstition, to pray for departed souls, particularly those of friends. The souler's song, in Staffordshire, is different from that, which Mr. Peck mentions, and is by no means worthy publication. Tollet. 7 to walk like one of the lions;] If our author had not been thinking of the lions in the Tower, he would have written—“ to walk like a lion." Ritson. none else would:] None else would be so simple. Johnson. Speed. Is she not hard favoured, 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? Speed. Ever since you loved her. 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 going ungartered!' Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing defor mity: 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;1 so, your affection would cease. 9 -for going ungartered!] This is enumerated by Rosalind, in As you like it, Act III. sc. ii. as one of the undoubted marks of love: "Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded," &c. Malone. 1 I would you were set;] Set for seated, in opposition to stand in the foregoing line. M. Mason. 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. Enter SILVIA. Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her.2 Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows. Speed. O, 'give you good even! here's a million of manners. [Aside, Sil. Sir Valentine and servant,3 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, 2 O excellent motion! &c.] Motion, in Shakspeare's time, signified puppet. In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, it is frequently used in that sense, or rather, perhaps, to signify a puppet-show; the master whereof may properly be said to be an interpreter, as being the explainer of the inarticulate language of the actors. The speech of the servant is an allusion to that practice; and he means to say, that Silvia is a puppet, and that Valentine is to interpret to, or rather for, her. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in The City Match, 1639, by Jasper Maine: 66 his mother came, "Who follows strange sights out of town, and went 3 Sir Valentine and servant,] Here Silvia calls her lover servant, and again below, her gentle servant. This was the language of ladies to their lovers, at the time when Shakspeare wrote. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in Marston's What you will, 1607: my servant Monsieur Laverdure. faith upon "Mel. Troth, well for a servant; but for a husband!" Again, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour : "Every man was not born with my servant Brisk's fea tures." Steevens. But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly 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! 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 like it? 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 SIL. 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? 4- 'tis very clerkly done.] i. e. like a scholar. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: 5 "Thou art clerkly, sir John, clerkly." Steevens. it came hardly off;] A similar phrase occurs in Timon of Athens, Act I. sc. i: "This comes off well and excellent." Steevens. Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself?6 Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. Val. To whom? Speed. To yourself; why, she wooes you by a figure. 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. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end." 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 modesty, 6 reasoning with yourself?] That is discoursing, talking. An Italianism. Johnson. So, in the Merchant of Venice: 7 I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday." Steevens. and there an end.] i. e. there's the conclusion of the matter. So, in Macbeth: "That when the brains were out, the man would die, Steevens. All this I speak in print;] In print, means with exactness. So, in the comedy of All Fooles, 1605: not a hair "About his bulk, but it stands in print." Again, in The Portraiture of Hypocrisie, bl. 1. 1589: “— - others lash out to maintaine their porte, which must needes bee in print.” |