The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Уильям Шекспир

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          But, since unwillingly, take them again.

          Nay, take them. [Gives hack the letter]

        VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you.

        SILVIA. 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.

        VALENTINE. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.

        SILVIA. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over;

          And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.

        VALENTINE. If it please me, madam, what then?

        SILVIA. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour.

          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?

        VALENTINE. How now, sir! What are you reasoning with yourself?

        SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.

        VALENTINE. To do what?

        SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia?

        VALENTINE. To whom?

        SPEED. To yourself; why, she woos you by a figure.

        VALENTINE. What figure?

        SPEED. By a letter, I should say.

        VALENTINE. Why, she hath not writ to me.

        SPEED. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself?

          Why, do you not perceive the jest?

        VALENTINE. No, believe me.

        SPEED. No believing you indeed, sir. But did you perceive her

          earnest?

        VALENTINE. She gave me none except an angry word.

        SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter.

        VALENTINE. That's the letter I writ to her friend.

        SPEED. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end.

        VALENTINE. I would it were no worse.

        SPEED. I'll warrant you 'tis as well.

          'For often have you writ to her; and she, in modesty,

          Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply;

          Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover,

          Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her

      lover.'

          All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse

      you,

          sir? 'Tis dinner time.

        VALENTINE. I have din'd.

        SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed

      on

          the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals, and would

          fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress! Be moved, be

      moved.

      SCENE II. Verona. JULIA'S house

      Enter PROTEUS and JULIA