The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Уильям Шекспир

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        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. I have lov'd her ever since I saw her, and still

          I see her beautiful.

        SPEED. If you love her, you cannot see her.

        VALENTINE. Why?

        SPEED. Because Love is blind. O that you had mine eyes; or your

      own

          eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at

      Sir

          Proteus for going ungarter'd!

        VALENTINE. What should I see then?

        SPEED. Your own present folly and her passing deformity; for

      he,

          being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you,

      being

          in love, cannot see to put on your hose.

        VALENTINE. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning

      you

          could not see to wipe my shoes.

        SPEED. True, sir; I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you

          swing'd me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide

      you

          for yours.

        VALENTINE. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

        SPEED. I would you were set, so your affection would cease.

        VALENTINE. Last night she enjoin'd me to write some lines to

      one

          she loves.

        SPEED. And have you?

        VALENTINE. I have.

        SPEED. Are they not lamely writ?

        VALENTINE. No, boy, but as well as I can do them.

      Enter SILVIA