SPEED. Sir, your glove. VALENTINE. Not mine: my gloves are on. SPEED. Why, then, this may be yours; for this is but one. VALENTINE. Ha! let me see; ay, give it me, it's mine; Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia! Silvia! SPEED. [Calling] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! VALENTINE. How now, sirrah? SPEED. She is not within hearing, sir. VALENTINE. Why, sir, who bade you call her? SPEED. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. VALENTINE. Well, you'll still be too forward. SPEED. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. VALENTINE. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? SPEED. She that your worship loves? VALENTINE. Why, how know you that I am in love? SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learn'd, 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 school-boy 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. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money. And now you are metamorphis'd with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. VALENTINE. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? SPEED. They are all perceiv'd without ye. VALENTINE. Without me? They cannot. 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. VALENTINE. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? SPEED. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? VALENTINE. Hast thou observ'd that? Even she, I mean. SPEED. Why, sir, I know her not. VALENTINE. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? SPEED. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir? VALENTINE. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd. SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough. VALENTINE. What dost thou know? SPEED. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favour'd. VALENTINE. 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. VALENTINE. How painted? and how out of count? SPEED. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty. VALENTINE. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty. SPEED. You never saw her since she was deform'd. VALENTINE. How long hath she been deform'd? SPEED. Ever since you lov'd her. VALENTINE.