LITMIR.BIZ

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it’s mine;

       Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!

       Ah, Silvia! Silvia!

       SPEED.

       [Calling.] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!

       VALENTINE.

       How now, sirrah?

       SPEED.

       She is not within hearing, sir.

       VALENTINE.

       Why, sir, who bade you call her?

       SPEED.

       Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.

       VALENTINE.

       Well, you’ll still be too forward.

       SPEED.

       And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.

       VALENTINE.

       Go to, sir. tell me, do you know Madam Silvia?

       SPEED.

       She that your worship loves?

       VALENTINE.

       Why, how know you that I am in love?

       SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a malcontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A B C; to 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. 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.

       VALENTINE.

       Are all these things perceived in me?

       SPEED.

       They are all perceived without ye.

       VALENTINE.

       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.

       VALENTINE.

       But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?

       SPEED.

       She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?

       VALENTINE.

       Hast thou observed that? Even she, I mean.

       SPEED.

       Why, sir, I know her not.

       VALENTINE. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know’st her not?

       SPEED.

       Is she not hard-favoured, sir?

       VALENTINE.

       Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.

       SPEED.

       Sir, I know that well enough.

       VALENTINE.

       What dost thou know?

       SPEED.

       That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured.

       VALENTINE. 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.

       VALENTINE.

       How painted? and how out of count?

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

       VALENTINE.

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

       SPEED.

       You never saw her since she was deformed.

       VALENTINE.

       How long hath she been deformed?

       SPEED.

       Ever since you loved her.

       VALENTINE.

       I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still

       I see her beautiful.

       SPEED.

       If you love her, you cannot see her.

       VALENTINE.

       Why?

       SPEED.

       Because 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

       Proteus for going ungartered!

       VALENTINE.

       What should I see then?

       SPEED. Your own present folly and her passing deformity; for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

       VALENTINE. 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.

       VALENTINE.

       In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

       SPEED.

       I would you were set, so your affection would cease.

       VALENTINE. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves.

       SPEED.

       And have you?

       VALENTINE.

       I have.

       SPEED.

       Are they not lamely writ?

       VALENTINE.

       No, boy, but as well as I can do them.

       Peace! here she comes.

       [Enter SILVIA.]

       SPEED.

       [Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!

       Now will he interpret to her.

       VALENTINE.

       Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows.

       SPEED.

       [Aside] O, give ye good even: here’s a million of manners.

       SILVIA.

       Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.

       SPEED. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it him.

       VALENTINE.

       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,

       But for my duty to your ladyship.

       [Gives a letter.]

       SILVIA.

       I thank you, gentle servant. ‘Tis very clerkly done.

       VALENTINE.

       Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;

       For, being ignorant to whom it goes,

       I writ at random, very doubtfully.

       SILVIA.

       Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

       VALENTINE.

       No, madam; so it stead you, I will write,

       Please you command, a thousand times as much;

       And yet—

       SILVIA.

       A pretty

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