Val. What meanes your Ladiship? Doe you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ, But (since vnwillingly) take them againe. Nay, take them Val. Madam, they are for you Silu. 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: Val. Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another Sil. And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer, 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 Seruant. Exit. Sil. Speed. 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? Val. How now Sir? What are you reasoning with your selfe? Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason Val. To doe what? Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia Val. To whom? Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure Val. What figure? Speed. By a Letter, I should say Val. Why she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need she, When shee hath made you write to your selfe? Why, doe you not perceiue the iest? Val. No, beleeue me Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir: But did you perceiue her earnest? Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end Val. I would it were no worse Speed. 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 messe[n]ger, 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 Val. I haue dyn'd Speed. 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 your Mistresse, be moued, be moued. Exeunt. Scoena secunda. Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion. Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia: Iul. I must where is no remedy Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner: Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange; Here, take you this Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse