Shakespeare's First Folio Part 22

Val. 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 vngarter'd

Val. What should I see then?

Speed. Your owne present folly, and her pa.s.sing deformitie: 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 morning 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?

Val. 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 Ladis.h.i.+p

Sil. I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerklydone

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 Ladis.h.i.+p?

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 Ladis.h.i.+p 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 Wetherc.o.c.ke 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 haue the reason

Val. To doe what?

Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia

Val. To whom?

Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes 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 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?

Val. 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 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 messe[n]ger, y 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

Val. 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.