Act 2
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Enter VALENTINE and SPEED
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VALENTINE and SPEED enter.
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SPEED Sir, your glove.
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SPEED Sir, here is your glove.
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He offers a glove.
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He offers a glove.
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VALENTINE Not mine. My gloves are on.
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VALENTINE That isn’t mine. I’m already wearing my gloves.
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SPEED Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
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SPEED Well, then, this may be your glove, because it’s all by itself.
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VALENTINE Ha! let me see. Ay, give it me, it’s mine.
5Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Sylvia, Sylvia!
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VALENTINE Ha! Let me see it. Yes, give it to me. It’s mine. Sweet accessory that Sylvia’s divine hand wears. Ah Sylvia, Sylvia!
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SPEED [Calling] Madam Sylvia! Madam Sylvia!
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SPEED (calling) Madame Sylvia! Madama Sylvia!
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VALENTINE How now, sirrah?
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VALENTINE |
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SPEED She is not within hearing, sir.
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SPEED She’s too far away to hear me, sir.
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VALENTINE
10Why, sir, who bade you call her?
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VALENTINE But, sir, who asked you to call out for her?
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SPEED Your worship, sir, or else I mistook.
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SPEED You did, sir, or else I misunderstood you.
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VALENTINE Well, you’ll still be too forward.
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VALENTINE Well, you’re always too presumptuous.
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SPEED And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.
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SPEED Even though last time I was scolded for being too slow.
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VALENTINE Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Sylvia?
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VALENTINE Enough, sir. Tell me, do you know Madame Sylvia?
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SPEED
15She that your worship loves?
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SPEED The Madame Sylvia you love, your worship?
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VALENTINE Why, how know you that I am in love?
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VALENTINE Why, how do you know that I am in love?
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SPEED Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, 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 schoolboy 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 walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money. And now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.
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SPEED Because of all the right signs, of course: First, like Sir Proteus, you have started to fold your arms like you’re unhappy about something. You go around singing love songs like a redbreasted robin. You walk alone, like one who has the plague. You sigh like a schoolboy who has lost his textbook. You weep, like a young girl who has just buried her grandmother. You don’t eat, like one who’s on a diet. You can’t sleep, like one who fears being robbed. You whine,
like a beggar on HallowmasHallowmas, or All Saint’s Day, took place on November 1, and it was customary on that day to give charity to beggars. like a beggar on Hallowmas It used to be that when you laughed, you crowed like a rooster. When you walked, you walked like a lion. When you didn’t eat, it was because you’d just finished lunch. When you looked sad, it was because you were out of money. And now a mistress has changed you. When I look at you, I can hardly recognize you as my master. |
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VALENTINE Are all these things perceived in me?
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VALENTINE Can you see all these things in me?
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SPEED They are all perceived without ye.
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SPEED They are all outside of you, in your outward appearance.
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VALENTINE
20Without me? They cannot.
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VALENTINE Outside of me? They cannot be outside of me.
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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.
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SPEED Outside of you? No, I’m sure, because if you weren’t so obvious no one would see them. But your appearance is so marked by these foolish traits that they must be inside you, and they shine through you as if you were water in a jar. Everyone that sees you is like a physician who knows why you’re sick.
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