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walk alone like one that had the Pestilence, to figh like a School-boy that had lost his A, B, C, to weeplike a young Wench that that had loft her Grandam, to faft like one that takes Diet, to watch like one that fears robbing, to speak puling like a Beggar at Hollowmass: 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 fafted, it was prefently after Dinner; when you look'd sadly, it was for want of Mony: And now you are metamorphos'd with a Mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my Master.

Val. Are all these things perceiv'd in me?
Speed. They are all perceiv'd without ye.
Val. Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain; for without you were fo fimple, none else would: But you are so without these Follies, that these Follies are within you, and strine through you like the Water in an Urinal; that not an Eye that fees 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 the fits at Supper?
Val. Haft thou observ'd that? Even she I mean.

Speed. Why, Sir, I know her not.

Val. Doft thou know her by gazing on her, and yet

know'st her not?

Speed. Is the not hard-favour'd, Sir?

Val. Not fo fair, Boy, as well favour'd.

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough,

Val. What doft thou know?

Speed. That she is not so fair, as of you well favour'd.

Val. I mean that her Beauty is exquifite,

But her Favour infinite.

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 fince she was deform'd.

Val. How long hath the been deform'd?

Speed. Speed. Ever since you lov'd her.

Val. I have lov'd her ever fince I faw 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 Protheus for going ungarter'd.

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 fee to put on your Hofe.

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 swing'd me for my Love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In Conclufion, I stand affected to her.

Spoed. I would you were set, so your Affection would ceafe.

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?

Val. No, Boy, but as well as I can do them:

Peace, here she comes.

Enter Silvia.

Speed. Oh excellent Motion! Oh exceeding Puppet! Now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam and Mistress, a thousand Good-morrows.
Speed. Oh!'give ye Good-ev'n; here's a million of Manners.
Sil. Sir Valentine, and Servant, to you two thousand.
Speed. He should give her Interest; and she gives it him.
Val. As you have injoin'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

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 steed 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 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 Ladyship 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 your Labour;

And so good-morrow, Servant.

Speed. Oh Jeft unfeen, infcrutible, invisible,

[Exit.

As a Nose on a Man's Face, or a Weathercock on a Steeple; My Master sues to her, and she hath taught her Sutor,

He being her Pupil, to become her Tutor:

Oh 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 your self?

Speed. Nay, I was riming; 'tis you that have the Reafon. 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 should 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 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'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 she in Modesty,
Or else for want of idle Time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else some Messenger that might her Mind difcover,
Her self hath taught her Love himself to write unto her Lover.
All this I speak in Print; for in Print I found it.
Why muse 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 Viauals; and would fain have Meat: Oh be not like your Mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunte

SCENE II.

Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have Patience, gentle Julia.

Jul. I must, where is no Remedy.

Pro. When poflibly I can, I will return.

Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner:

Keep this Remembrance for thy Julia's fake. [Giving a Rings

Pro. Why then we'll make Exchange;

Here, take you this.

Jul. And seal this Bargain with a holy Kiss.
Pro. Here is my Hand for my true Constancy:

And when that Hour o'er-flips me in the Day,
Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake,

1

The

The next ensuing Hour some foul Mischance
Torment me, for my Love's Forgetfulness.
My Father stays my coming; aniwer not:
The Tide is now; nay, not thy Tide of Tears;
That Tide will stay me longer than I should: [Exit Julia,
Julia, farewel. What! gone without a Word?
Ay, fo true Love should do; it cannot speak;
For Truth hath better Deeds than Words to grace it.
Enter Panthion.

Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come;

Alas! this Parting strikes poor Lovers dumb.

SCENE III.

Enter Launce.

[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 fowrest 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 shed one Tear: He is a Stone, a very Pibble-stone, and has no more Pity in him than a Dog: A Jew would have wept to have seen 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 so neither; yes, it is so, 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 Sister; for look you, she is as white as a Lilly, and as small aş 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 self; ay, fo, so; Now come I to my Father; Father, your Bleffing: now should not the Shoe speak fp a Word for weeping; now should I kiss my Father; well, he weeps on; Now come I to my Mother; oh that the could speak now like a Would-woman; well, I kiss her; why

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