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, fo 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, and yet I care not, And take this again, and yet I thank you;

yet

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 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 please me, Madam, what then?
Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for
And fo Good-morrow, Servant.

your Labour;

Speed. Oh Jeft unseen, inscrutible, invisible,

[Exit.

As a Nofe on a Man's Face, or a Weathercock on a Steeple; My Mafter fues to her, and fhe hath taught her Sutor,

He being her Pupil, to become her Tutor:

Oh excellent Device! was there ever heard a better?

That my Mafter being Scribe,

To himself fhould write the Letter?

Val. How now, Sir?

What are you reasoning with

your felf?

Speed. Nay, I was riming; 'tis you that have the Reason. Val. To do what?

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

Val. To whom?

Speed. To your felf; why, the woos you by a Figure.
Val. What Figure?

Speed.

Speed. By a Letter, I fhould fay.

Val. Why, the hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need the,

When the 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 Earneft ?

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 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 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 himself 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; though 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 Miftrefs; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt

Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have Patience, gentle Julia.

Fal. 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 this.

Jul. And feal this Bargain with a holy Kifs. Pro. Here is my Hand for my true Conftancy: And when that Hour o'er-flips me in the Day, Wherein I figh not, Jalia, for thy fake,

The

The next enfuing Hour fome foul Mifchance'
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 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.

Pan. Sir Protheus, you are ftaid for.

Pro. Go; I come, I come;

Alas! this Parting ftrikes poor Lovers dumb..

Exeunt.

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this Hour e'er I have done weeping; all the Kind of the Launces have this very Fault : 'I have receiv'd my Proportion, like the prodigious Son, 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 Sifter crying, our Maid howling, our Cat wringing her Hands, and all our House in great Perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted Cur fhed one Tear: He is a Stone, a very Pibble-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 her felf 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 fo neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer 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 Sifter; 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 the Dog: Oh, the Dog is me, and I am my felf; ay, fo, fo: Now come I to my Father; Father, your Bleffing: Now should not the Shoe speak a Word for weeping; now fhould I kifs my Father; well, he weeps on: Now come I to my Mother; oh that fhe could fpeak now like a Would-woman; well, I kifs her;

why

why there 'tis; here's my Mother's Breath up and down: Now come I to my Sifter; mark what Moan she makes: Now the Dog all this while fheds not a Tear, nor speaks a Word; but fee how I lay the Duft with my

Tears.

Enter Panthion.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy Mafter is fhipp'd and thou art to poft after with Oars: What's the Matter? why weep'ft thou, Man? away Afs, you will lofe the Tide if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the Tide were loft, for it is the unkindest Tide that ever any Man ty❜d.

Pant. What's the unkindeft Tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my Dog.

Pant. But, Man, I mean, thou'lt lofe the Flood; and in lofing the Flood, lofe thy Voyage; and in lofing thy Voy age, lofe thy Mafter; and in lofing thy Mafter, lofe thy Service; and in lofing thy Service,Why doft thou ftop my Mouth?

Lann. For fear thou fhould'st lofe thy Tongue.
Pant. Where fhould I lofe my Tongue?
Laun. In thy Tale.

Pant. In thy Tail.

Laun. Lofe the Tide, and the Voyage, and the Mafter, and the Service, and 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.

Pant. Come, come away, Man; I was fent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.

Speed. Mafter, Sir Thurio frowns on you.

Val. Ay Boy, it's for Love.

Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my Mistress then.

VOL. I.

[Exeunt

Speed.

Speed. 'Twere good you knockt him.
Sil. Servant, you are fad.

Val. Indeed, Madam, I feem fo.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply I do.

Thu. So do Counterfeits.

Val. So do

you.

Thu. What feem I that I am not?
Val. Wife.

Thu. What Inftance 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 Camelion. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your Blood, than live in your Air.

Val. You have faid, Sir.

Thu. Ay Sir, and done too, for this time.

Val, I know it well, Sir; you always end e'er you begin. Sil. A fine Volly of Words, Gentlemen, and quickly fhot off.

Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam; we thank the Giver.
Sil. Who is that, Servant?

Val. Your felf, fweet Lady, for you gave the Fire: Sir Thurio borrows his Wit from your Ladyfhip's Looks, And spends what he borrows kindly in your Company.

Thu. Sir, if you spend Word for Word with me, I fhall 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 the Duke:

Duke. Now, Daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your Father is in good Health:

What