Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Published according to the true originall copies.

Scoena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia.

Speed.

Sir, your Gloue.

Valen.

Not mine: my Gloues are on.

Sp.

Why then this may be yours: for this is but one.

Ʋal.

Ha? Let me see: I, giue it me, it's mine: Sweet Ornament, that deckes a thing diuine, Ah Siluia, Siluia.

Speed.

Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia.

Val.

How now Sirha?

Speed.

Shee is not within hearing Sir.

Val.

Why sir, who had you call her?

Speed.

Your worship s••, or else I mistooke.

Val.

Well: you'll still be too forward.

Speed.

And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.

Val.

Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia?

Speed.

Shee that your worship loues?

Val.

Why, how know you that I am in loue?

Speed.

Marry by these speciall markes: first, you haue learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a Robin-red-breast: to walke alone like one that had the pestilence: to sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A. B. C. to weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam: to fast, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar at Hal∣low-Masse: You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the Lions: when you fasted, it was presently after dinner: when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: And now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that when I looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master.

Val.

Are all these things perceiu'd in me?

Speed.

They are all perceiu'd without ye.

Val.

Without me? they cannot.

Speed.

Without you? nay, that's certaine: for with∣out 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 Vrinall: that not an eye that sees you, but is a Physician to comment on your Malady.

Val.

But tell me: do'st thou know my Lady Siluia?

Speed.

Shee that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?

Val.

Hast thou obseru'd that? euen she I meane.

Speed.

Why sir, I know her not.

Val.

Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not?

Speed.

Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir?

Val.

Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd.

Speed.

Sir, I know that well enough.

Ʋal.

What dost thou know?

Speed.

That shee is not so faire, as (of you) well-fa∣uourd?

Val.

I meane that her beauty is exquisite, But her fauour infinite.

Speed.

That's because the one is painted, and the o∣ther out of all count.

Val.

How painted? and how out of count?

Speed.

Marry sir, so painted to make her faire, that no man counts of her beauty.

Val.

How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty.

Speed.

You neuer saw her since she was deform'd.

Ʋal.

How long hath she beene deform'd?

Speed.

Euer since you lou'd her.

Val.

I haue lou'd her euer since I saw her, And still I see her beautifull.

Speed.

If you loue her, you cannot see her.

Ʋal.

Why?

Speed.

Because Loue is blinde: O that you had mine eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were wont to haue, when you chidde at Sir Protheus, for going vn∣garter'd.

Val.

What should I see then?

Speed.

Your owne present folly, and her passing de∣formitie: for hee beeing in loue, could not see to garter his hose; and you, beeing in loue, cannot see to put on your hose.

Val.

Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for last mor∣ning You could not see to wipe my shooes.

Speed.

True sir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke you, you swing'd me for my loue, which makes mee 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 enioyn'd me, To write some lines to one she loues.

Speed.

And haue you?

Ʋal.

I haue.

Speed.

Are they not lamely writt?

Val.

No (Boy) but as well as I can do them: Peace, here she comes.

Speed.

Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet: Now will he interpret to her.

Val.

Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows.

Speed.

Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of manners.

Sil.

Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand.

Speed.

He should giue her interest: & she giues it him.

Val.

As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours: Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your Ladiship.

Sil.

I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerkly-done.

Val.

Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off: For being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at randome, very doubtfully.

Sil.

Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Val.

No (Madam) so it steed you I will write (Please you command) a thousand times as much: And yet —

Sil.

A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell; And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not. And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you: Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

Speed.

And yet you will: and yet, another yet.

Val.

What meanes your Ladiship? Doe you not like it?

Sil.

Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ, But (since vnwillingly) take them againe. Nay, take them.

Val.

Madam, they are for you.

Silu.

I, I: you writ them Sir, at my request, But I will none of them: they are for you: I would haue had them writ more mouingly:

Val.

Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another.

Sil.

And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer, 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 Seruant.

Exit. Sil.

Speed.

Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible, As a nose on a mans face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple: My Master sues to her: and she hath taught her Sutor, He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor. Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better? That my master being scribe, To himselfe should write the Letter?

Val.

How now Sir? What are you reasoning with your selfe?

Speed.

Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y^t haue the reason.

Val.

To doe what?

Speed.

To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia.

Ʋal.

To whom?

Speed.

To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure.

Val.

What figure?

Speed.

By a Letter, I should say.

Ʋal.

Why she hath not writ to me?

Speed.

What need she, When shee hath made you write to your selfe? Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?

Val.

No, beleeue me.

Speed.

No beleeuing you indeed sir: But did you perceiue her earnest?

Ʋal.

She gaue me none, except an angry word.

Speed.

Why she hath giuen you a Letter.

Val.

That's the Letter I writ to her friend.

Speed.

And y^t letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end.

Val.

I would it were no worse.

Speed.

Ile warrant you, 'tis as well: For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply, Or fearing els some messēger, y^t might her mind discouer Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write vnto her louer. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse you sir, 'tis dinner time.

Ʋal.

I haue dyn'd.

Speed.

I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.

Exeunt.