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-

r

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, 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 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 unseen, 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 Reason. 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 say.
Val. Why, she hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need she,

When she hath made you write to your self?
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 discover,
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 Victuals; and would fain have Meat: Oh be not like your Mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt.

Enter Protheus and Julia.

Pro. Have Patience, gentle Julia.

Fal. I must, 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 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,

The

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: (Exit Julia.

Julia, farewel. 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 Panthion.

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 self 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 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 as 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, 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; oh that she could speak now like a Would-woman; well, I kiss her; why

fo, it

.

why there 'tis; here's my Mother's Breath up and down: Now come I to my Sifter; mark what 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.

Enter Panthion.

Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy Master is shipp'd and thou art to post after with Oars: What's the Matter? why weep'st thou, Man? away Ass, you will lose the Tide if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the Tide were lost, for it is the unkindest Tide that ever any Man ty'd.

Pant. What's the unkindest Tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my Dog. Pant. But, Man, I mean, thou'lt lose the Flood; and in lofing the Flood, lose thy Voyage; and in losing thy Voy age, lose thy Master; and in losing thy Master, lose thy Service; and in lofing thy Service, Why doft thou stop my Mouth?

Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy Tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my Tongue?

Laun. In thy Tale.

Pant. In thy Tail.

Laun. Lose the Tide, and the Voyage, and the Master, and the Service, and the Tide; why, Man, if the River were dry, I am able to fill it with my Tears; if the Wind were

down, I could drive the Boat with my Sighs.

Pant. Come, come away, Man; I was sent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.

Pant. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

SCENE

IV.

Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio and Speed.

Sil. Servant.

Val. Mistress.

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.

Val. Ay Boy, it's for Love.

Speed. Not of you.

Val. Of my Mistress then.

VOL. I.

4

[Exeunt

Speed.

Val. Your Folly.

Thu. And how quote you my Folly?

Val. I quote it in your Jerkin.

Thu. My Jerkin is a Doublet.

Val. Well then, I'll double your Folly.

Thu. How?

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change Colour? Val. Give him leave, Madam; he is a kind of Camelion. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your Blood, than

live in your Air.

Val. You have faid, Sir.

Thu. Ay Sir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, Sir; you always end e'er you begin. Sil. A fine Volly of Words, Gentlemen, and quickly

shot off.

Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam; we thank the Giver.
Sil. Who is that, Servant?

Val. Your felf, sweet Lady, for you gave the Fire:
Sir Thurio borrows his Wit from your Ladyship's Looks,
And spends what he borrows kindly in your Company.
Thu. Sir, if you spend Word for Word with me, I shall
make your Wit bankrupt.

Val. I know it well, Sir, you have an Exchequer of Words, And, I think, no other Treasure to give your Followers: For it appears, by their bare Liveries,

That they live by your bare Words.

Sil. No more, Gentlemen, no more:

Here comes my Father.

Enter the Duke:

Duke. Now, Daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.

Sir Valentine, your Father is in good Health:

What