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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 labor;

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; ’tis you that have the reason.

Val. To do what?