Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet

Val. What meanes your Ladiship? 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 Ladiship 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 Wethercocke 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.


William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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