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SILVIA. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. |
SPEED. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it him. |
VALENTINE. 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. |
SILVIA. I thank you, gentle servant. 'Tis very clerkly done. |
VALENTINE. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; |
For, being ignorant to whom it goes, |
I writ at random, very doubtfully. |
SILVIA. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? |
VALENTINE. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, |
Please you command, a thousand times as much; |
And yet- |
SILVIA. 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. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another' yet.' |
VALENTINE. What means your ladyship? Do you not like it? |
SILVIA. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; |
But, since unwillingly, take them again. |
Nay, take them. [Gives hack the letter] |
VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you. |
SILVIA. 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. |
VALENTINE. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. |
SILVIA. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over; |
And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. |
VALENTINE. If it please me, madam, what then? |
SILVIA. 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? |
VALENTINE. How now, sir! What are you reasoning with yourself? |
SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason. |
VALENTINE. To do what? |
SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia? |
VALENTINE. To whom? |
SPEED. To yourself; why, she woos you by a figure. |
VALENTINE. What figure? |
SPEED. By a letter, I should say. |
VALENTINE. 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? |
VALENTINE. No, believe me. |
SPEED. No believing you indeed, sir. But did you perceive her |
earnest? |
VALENTINE. She gave me none except an angry word. |
SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter. |
VALENTINE. That's the letter I writ to her friend. |
SPEED. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end. |
VALENTINE. 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, |
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. |
VALENTINE. I have din'd. |
SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon 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 |
SCENE II. |
Verona. JULIA'S house |
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA |
PROTEUS. Have patience, gentle Julia. |
JULIA. I must, where is no remedy. |
PROTEUS. When possibly I can, I will return. |
JULIA. If you turn not, you will return the sooner. |
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. |
[Giving a ring] |
PROTEUS. Why, then, we'll make exchange. Here, take you this. |
JULIA. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. |
PROTEUS. Here is my hand for my true constancy; |
And when that hour o'erslips 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 thy tide of tears: |
That tide will stay me longer than I should. |
Julia, farewell! Exit JULIA |
What, gone without a word? |
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; |
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. |
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