Puslapio vaizdai

walk alone like one that had the Peftilence, to figh like a School-boy that had loft his A, B, C, to weep like 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 Hollowmafs: 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 fadly, it was for want of Mony: And now you are metamorphos'd with a Miftrefs, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my Mafter.

Val. Are all thefe 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 elfe would: But you are fo without thefe Follies, that thefe Follies are within you, and fine through you like the Water in an Urinal; that not an Eye that fees you, but is a Phyfician to comment on your Malady.

Val. But tell me, deft thou know my Lady Silvia?
Speed. She that you gaze on fo as the fits at Supper?
Val. Haft thou obferv'd that? Even the I mean.
Speed. Why, Sir, I know her not.

Val. Doft thou know her by gazing on her, and yet know'ft 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 he is not fo fair, as of you well favour'd.
Val. I mean that her Beauty is exquifite,

But her Favour infinite.

Speed. That's becaufe the one is painted, and the other out of all Count.

Val How painted? and how out of Count?

Speed. Marry Sir, fo painted to make her fair, that no Man counts of her Beauty.

Val. How efteem'ft thou me? I account of her Beauty.
Speed. You never faw her fince fhe was deform'd.
Val. How long hath the been deform'd?


[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Speed. Ever fince you lov'd her.
Val. I have lov'd her ever fince I faw her,
And ftill I fee her beautiful.


Speed. If you love her, you cannot fee her.

Val. Why?

Speed. Becaufe 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 fhould I fee then?

Speed. Your own present Folly, and her paffing Deformity: For he being in Love, could not fee to garter his Hofe; and you, being in Love, cannot fee to put on your Hofe.

Val. Belike, Boy, then you are in Love; for laft Morning you could not fee to wipe my Shoes.

Speed. True, Sir, I was in Love with my Bed; I thank you, you fwing'd me for my Love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

Val. In Conclufion, I ftand affected to her.

Spoed. I would you were fet, so your Affection would


Val. Laft Night she enjoin'd me

To write fome Lines to one fhe 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 fhe 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 fhould give her Intereft; and the gives it him.
Val. As you have injoin'd me, I have writ your Letter
Unto the fecret, 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 truft 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 fo much Pains?
Val. No, Madam, fo it fteed 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
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed. And yet you will; and
Val. What means your Lady ship?
Do you not like it?

yet, another

yet. [Afide.

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 Requeft;
But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.

Val. Pleafe you, I'll write your Ladyfhip 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 fo good-morrow, Servant.


Speed. Oh Jeft unfeen, infcrutible, invisible,
As a Nofe on a Man's Face, or a Weathercock on a Steeple;
My Mafter fues to her, and the hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupil, to become her Tutor:

Oh excellent Device! was there ever heard a better?
That my Mafter being Scribe,

To himfelf fhould write the Letter?

Val. How now, Sir?

What are you reasoning with your felf?

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. Fal. What Figure?


Speed. By a Letter, I fhould 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 Earneft ?

Val. She gave me none, except an angry Word.
Speed. Why, the hath given you a Letter.

Val. That's the Letter I writ to her Friend.

Speed. And that Letter hath the 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 fhe in Modefty,
Or elfe for want of idle Time, could not again reply;
Or fearing else fome Meffenger that might her Mind difcover,
Her felf hath taught her Love himself to write unto her Lover.
All this I fpeak in Print; for in Print I found it.
Why mufe 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 nourifh'd by my Vi&uals; and would fain have Meat: Oh be not like your Miftrefs; be moved, be moved.



Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have Patience, gentle Julia.

Jul. I muft, where is no Remedy.

Pro. When poffibly I can, I will return.
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the fooner:

Keep this Remembrance for thy Julia's fake. [Giving a Ring
Pro. Why then we'll make Exchange;

Here, take you this.

Jul. And feal this Bargain with a holy Kifs.
Pro. Here is my Hand for my true Conftancy:
And when that Hour o'er-flips me in the Day,
Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake,

[merged small][ocr errors]

The next enfuing Hour fome foul Mifchance
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 fhould: [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 Prothens, you are ftaid for.

Pro. Go; I come, I come;

Alas! this Parting ftrikes poor Lovers dumb.



Enter Launce.

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 fowreft 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 fhed one Tear: He is a Stone, a very Pibble-ftone, and has no more Pity in him than a Dog: A few would have wept to have feen 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 fo neither; yes, it is fo, 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 Sifter; for look you, fhe is as white as a Lilly, and as fmall 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 felf; ay, fo, fo; Now come I to my Fa ther; Father, your Bleffing: now fhould not the Shoe fpeak a Word for weeping; now fhould I kifs my Father; well, he weeps on; Now come I to my Mother; oh that The sould fpeak now like a Would-woman; well, I kifs her;


« AnkstesnisTęsti »