Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, 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 yet.

[Aside.

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 SILVIA.

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 wooes 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 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 preceive 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. 8

Val. I would, it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: For often you have 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,

Herself 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 haye dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved.

SCENE II.

Verona. A Room in Julia's House.

Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.

[Exeunt.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.
Pro. When possibly I can, I will return.
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner :

Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.

[Giving a ring.

There's the conclusion.

Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take

you this.

Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears;
That tide will stay me longer than I should;

[Exit JULIA.

Julia, farewell. -What! gone without a word?
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come :-

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The same. A street.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the pro digious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-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 herself 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 so; it hath the worser 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 lily, and as small, as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog : -no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog,-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on:--now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood' woman; -well, I kiss her; -why there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

Crazy, distracted.