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! O exceeding puppet! now will he interpret to her. Enter SILVIA. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows. Speed. O, give you good even!-Here's a million of manners. [A side. 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 But for my duty to your ladyship. [Aside. 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? Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet. [A side. 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. [Gives back the letter. Madam, they are for you. But I will none of them; they are for you: Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. Val. If it please me, madam! what then? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour. And so good morrow, servant. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, [Exit SILVIA As a nose on a man's face, or a weather-cock 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 the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia. Val. To whom? Speed. To yourself: why, she woos 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. perceive her earnest? But did you Val. She gave me none except an angry word. Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. [end. Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an 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, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, 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. SCENE II.-VERONA. A Room in JULIA's House. Enter PROTEUS and JULIA. Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. Jul. I must, where is no remedy. Pro. When possibly I can I will return. Jul. If you turn not you will return the sooner: Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. [Giving a ring. That tide will stay me longer than I should: [Exit JULIA. Ay; so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. Enter PANTHINO. Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for. Pro. Go; I come, I come : Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. SCENE III.-The same. A Street. Enter LAUNCE leading a dog. [Exeunt. I think Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: this shoe is my father;-no, this left shoe is my father;-no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on't! there 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand; this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog:-no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, So. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing;—now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on:-now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood woman; -well, I kiss her: why there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. Enter PANTHINO. Pan. Launce, away, away aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter! why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever man tied. Pan. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man; I mean thou'lt lose the flood: and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in losing thy master, lose thy service and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth? Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose my tongue? Laun. In thy tale. Pan. In thy tail? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Pan. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-MILAN. An Apartment in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant Val. Mistress? Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress, then. Speed. 'Twere good you knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I that I am not? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly? Val. I quote it in your jerkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Thu. How? Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam: he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. shot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: |