Speed3 note.
Speed.
Sir, your glove.
Val.
Not mine; my gloves are on.
Speed.
Why then this may be yours, for this is but one4 note
.
Val.
Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine.—
Sweet ornament, that decks a thing divine!
Ah Silvia! Silvia!
Speed.
Madam Silvia! madam Silvia!
Val.
How now, sirrah?
Speed.
She is not within hearing, sir.
Val.
Why, sir, who bade you call her?
Speed.
Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.
Val.
Well, you'll still be too forward.
Speed.
And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
Val.
Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know madam Silvia?
Speed.
She that your worship loves?
Val.
Why, how know you that I am in love?
Speed.
Marry, by these special marks. First, you
have learn'd, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like
a mal-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast;
to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence;
-- 106 --
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 diet5 note; to watch, like one
that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at
Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laugh'd, to
crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to walk 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 metamorphosed with a mistress,
that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you
my master. 11Q0040
Val.
Are all these things perceived in me?
Speed.
They are all perceived without ye.
Val.
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.
Val.
But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?
Speed.
She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
Val.
Hast thou observed that? even she I mean.
Speed.
Why, sir, I know her not.
Val.
Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know'st her not?
Speed.
Is she not hard-favour'd, sir?
Val.
Not so fair, boy, as well favour'd.
Speed.
Sir, I know that well enough.
Val.
What dost thou know?
Speed.
That she is not so fair, as (of you) well-favour'd.
Val.
I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her
favour infinite.
-- 107 --
Speed.
That's because the one is painted, and the
other out of all count.
Val.
How painted? and how out of count?
Speed.
Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, that
no man 'counts of her beauty.
Val.
How esteem'st thou me? I account of her
beauty.
Speed.
You never saw her since she was deform'd.
Val.
How long hath she been deform'd?
Speed.
Ever since you loved her.
Val.
I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still
I see her beautiful.
Speed.
If you love her, you cannot see her.
Val.
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!
Val.
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.
Val.
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.
Val.
In conclusion, I stand affected to her.
Speed.
I would you were set, so your affection would
cease.
Val.
Last night she enjoin'd me to write some lines
to one she loves.
Speed.
And have you?
Val.
I have.
Speed.
Are they not lamely writ?
-- 108 --
Val.
No, boy, but as well as I can do them.—
Peace! here she comes.
Enter Silvia.
Speed.
O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet6 note!
Now will he interpret to her.
Val.
Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows.
Speed.
O! 'give ye good even: here's a million of
manners.
Sil.
Sir Valentine and servant7 note, 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
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your ladyship.
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?
Val.
No, madam: so it stead 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 yet take this again;—and yet I thank you,
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed.
And yet you will; and yet, another yet8 note.
-- 109 --
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.
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 ladyship another.
Sil.
And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over;
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, servant.
[Exit.
Speed.
O jest! unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock 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?
-- 110 --
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: but did you
perceive her earnest?
Val.
She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed.
Why, she hath given you a letter.
Val.
That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Speed.
And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there
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 she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover,
Her self hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.—
All this I speak in print9 note, for in print I found it.—
Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner time.
Val.
I have dined.
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. O! be not like
your mistress: be moved, be moved.
[Exeunt.
-- 111 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
