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Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows.

Speed [Aside.] O, give ye good ev’n! here’s a million of manners.

Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.

Speed [Aside.] 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—’tis 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?

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 [Aside.]

And yet you will; and yet another ‘yet.’

Val.

What means your ladyship? Do you not like it?