SPEED. She that your worship loves?
VAL. Why, how know you that I am in love?
SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: First,

you
have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your
arms like a malcontent; to relish a love-song,
like a robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one
that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy
that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young
wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like
one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears
robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at
Hallowmas.(1) You were wont, when you laughed,
to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk
like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was
presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it
was for want of money: and now you are
metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look
on you, I can hardly think you my master.

VAL. Are all these things perceived in me ?
SPEED. They are all perceived without ye.

"Sound one into the drowsy race of night."

b Like one that takes diet;] One under regimen for the restoration of health.

VAL. Without me?" they cannot.

b

SPEED. Without you? nay, that's certain, for without you were so simple, none else would ; but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an urinal; that not an eye that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady.

VAL. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia ?

SPEED. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?

VAL. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean.
SPEED. Why, sir, I know her not.

VAL. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not?

SPEED. Is she not hard favoured, sir?
VAL. Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough.
VAL. What dost thou know?

SPEED. That she is not so fair as (of you) well favoured.

VAL. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite.

SPEED. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count.

VAL. How painted? and how out of count? SPEED. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.

VAL. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.

SPEED. You never saw her since she was deformed.

VAL. How long hath she been deformed?
SPEED. Ever since you loved her.

VAL. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.

SPEED. If you love her, you cannot see her.
VAL. Why?

SPEED. Because 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 Proteus for going ungartered!

VAL. What should I see then?

a Without me?] The equivoque consists in Speed's using the word without to signify his master's exterior, personal demeanour, &c., and Valentine taking it in the sense of non-existence, absence, &c., as, how could these peculiarities be seen in me unless I myself am present? In the next passage, Speed uses the word in its meaning of unless.

b None else would;] "None else would be so simple," says Johnson; and this appears to be what is implied.

e I account of her beauty.] i. e. I value, estimate, appreciate. "There dwelled sometime in the citie of Rome a baker named Astatio, who for his honest behaviour was well accounted of amongst his neighbours."-TARLTON'S Newes out of Purgatorie. d For going ungartered!] Negligence of dress, time out of mind, has been considered symptomatical of love, and going ungartered, an infallible and characteristic mark of Cupid's sworn liegemen.

e Cannot see to put on your hose.] The allusion, whatever it was, which gave point here, has evaporated, or a word on which to hang a quibble been misprinted.

f O excellent motion! O'exceeding puppet!] Motion, the commentators say, meant a puppet-show, which is true; but assuredly it was also often used to signify one of the figures in

SPEED. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose."

VAL. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. SPEED. True, sir; I was in love with my bed:

I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.

VAL. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. SPEED. I would you were set; so your affection would cease.

VAL. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she 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 she comes.

Enter SILVIA.

SPEED. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet ! f

Now will he interpret to her.

VAL. Madam and mistress, a thousand good

morrows.

SPEED. O, give ye good ev'n! here's a million of manners. [Aside. SIL. Sir Valentine and servant, (2) 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: 't is 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?

it. Thus in "Measure for Measure," Act III. Sc. 2, Lucio, speaking of Angelo, calls him "a motion generative." So, too, in" Pericles," Act. V. Sc. 1:—

"Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?
No motion?"

In the present case, Speed terms Silvia a motion and a puppet, because of her diminutive appearance. In "A MidsummerNight's Dream," Act III. Sc. 2. Helena terms Hermia a puppet, whereupon the latter exclaims

"Puppet! why so? Ay, that way goes the game,
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures."

So too in Massinger's play, "The Duke of Milan," Act II. Sc. 1, the tall Marcelia taunts the dwarfish Mariana-"For you, puppet-" which the latter retorts with "What of me, pinetree?"

g Interpret to her.] A motion or puppet-show was not complete without the interpreter, who probably sat behind the scenes and furnished the dialogue.

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; 't is you that have the reason.

VAL. To do what?

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 delivered, and there an end.

VAL. I would it were no worse.

SPEED. I'll warrant you 't is 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? 't is dinner-time.

VAL. I have dined.

take you this.

JUL. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. (3) PRO. 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: [Exit JULIA. Julia, farewell.-What! gone without a word?

c The cameleon Love can feed on the air.] "Oh Palmerin, Palmerin, how cheaply dost thou furnish out thy table of love! Canst feed upon a thought! live upon hopes! feast upon a look! fatten upon a smile! and surfeit and die upon a kiss! What a Cameleon lover is a Platonick!"-The World in the Moon, 1697. d If you turn not,-] If you remain constant to your love.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a Dog.

LAUN. Nay, 't will 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 prodigious 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 't is 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, (0, that shoe could speak now, like a wood woman ;)—well, I kiss her;-why, there 't is ; 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.

a Like a wood woman;] The folio, 1623, reads "like a would woman." Theobald suggested the reading in the text. Wood means mad, crazed, wild.

The alteration of she to shoe in the same line was proposed by Blackstone, and after "now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping," seems a legitimate correction.

b Up and down;] An expression of the time, implying exactly, as we say "for all the world," or "all the world over." It occurs

Enter PANTHINO.

PAN. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer.

LAUN. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever man tied. PAN. What's the unkindest tide?

LAUN. Why, he that 's tied here; Crab, my dog.

PAN. Tut, man, I mean thou 'It lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service,-Why dost thou stop my mouth?

LAUN. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.
PAN. Where should I lose my tongue?
LAUN. In thy tale.

PAN. In thy tail?

LAUN. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied! 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.

PAN. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.

LAUN. Sir, call me what thou darest.
PAN. Wilt thou go?
LAUN. Well, I will go.

SCENE IV.-Milan.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the Duke's Palace.

THU. What instance of the contrary?

VAL. Your folly.

a

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 cameleon.

THU. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.

VAL. You have said, sir.

THU. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. VAL. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin.

SIL. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

VAL. "T is indeed, madam; we thank the giver. SIL. Who is that, servant?

VAL. Yourself, 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 DUKE.

DUKE. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.

Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends,
Of much good news?

VAL.
My lord, I will be thankful
To any happy messenger from thence.

DUKE. Know you don Antonio, your countryman?

VAL. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed.

DUKE. Hath he not a son?

VAL. Ay, my good lord; a son that well de

serves

The honour and regard of such a father.

DUKE. You know him well?

a I quote it in your jerkin.] A quibble springing from quote and coat; the former being pronounced and often spelt cote, in the time of our author.

b He is complete in feature and in mind,

With all good grace, to grace a gentleman.] Feature of old expressed both beauty of countenance and comeliness of person. Thus Spenser:

"Which the fair feature of her limbs did hide."

營

VAL. I know him, as myself; for from our infancy

We have convers'd and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath sir Proteus, for that 's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature and in mind,
With all good grace, to grace a gentleman.
DUKE. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this
good,

He is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time awhile:
I think 't is no unwelcome news to you.

VAL. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had
been he.

DUKE. Welcome him then according to his
worth ;

Silvia, I speak to you: and you, sir Thurio:—
For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it:
I will send him hither to you presently.

[Exit DUKE

VAL. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. SIL. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them,

Upon some other pawn for fealty. VAL. Nay, sure I think prisoners still.

she holds them

SIL. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,

How could he see his way to seek out you?

VAL. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. THU. They say that love hath not an eye at all— VAL. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink.