bolder to chide you, for yours.
In conclusion, I stand affected to her.
I would you were set, so your affection would
Last night she enioyn’d me,
To write some lines to one she loues.
And haue you?
Are they not lamely writt?
No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
Peace, here she comes.
Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:
Now will he interpret to her.
Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows.
Oh,’giue ye-good-ev’n: heer’s a million of
Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand.
He should giue her interest: & she giues it him.
As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter
Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours:
Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your Ladiship.
I thanke you (gentle Seruant)’tis very Clerklydone.
Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off:
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at randome, very doubtfully.
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 —
A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell;
And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not.
And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you:
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
And yet you will: and yet, another yet.
What meanes your Ladiship?
Doe you not like it?
Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ,
But (since vnwillingly) take them againe.
Nay, take them.
Madam, they are for you.
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:
Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another.
And when it’s writ: for my sake read it ouer,
And if it please you, so: if not: why so:
If it please me, (Madam? ) what then?
Why if it please you, take it for your labour;
your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.
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?
How now Sir?
What are you reasoning with your selfe?
Nay: I was riming:’tis you ў haue the reason.
To doe what?
To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia.
To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure.
By a Letter, I should say.
Why she hath not writ to me?
What need she,
When shee hath made you write to your selfe?
Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?
No, beleeue me.
No beleeuing you indeed sir:
But did you perceiue her earnest?
She gaue me none, except an angry word.
Why she hath giuen you a Letter.
That’s the Letter I writ to her friend.
And ў letter hath she deliuer’d, & there an end
I would it were no worse.
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 messēger, 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.
I haue dyn’d
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
Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.
Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.
Haue patience, gentle Iulia:
I must where is no remedy.
When possibly I can, I will returne.
If you turne not: you will return the sooner:
Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake
Why then wee’ll make exchange;
Here, take you this.
And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse.
Here is my hand, for my true constancie:
And when that howre ore-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake,
The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance
Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse:
My father staies my comming: answere not:
The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
That tide will stay me longer then I should,
Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?
I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake,
For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it.
Sir Protheus: you are staid for
Goe: I come, I come:
Enter Launce, Panthion.
Nay,’twill bee this howre ere I haue done
weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very
fault: I haue receiu’d my proportion, like the prodigious