please you, so; if not, why, so. If it please me, madam, what then? Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: And so, good morrow, servant. 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? How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself? Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason. To do what? To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia. To whom? To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure. What figure? By a letter, I should say. Why, she hath not writ to me? What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? No, believe me. No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive her earnest? She gave me none, except an angry word. Why, she hath given you a letter. That's the letter I writ to her friend. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. I would it were no worse. 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. I have dined. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. Have patience, gentle Julia. I must, where is no remedy. When possibly I can, I will return. If you turn not, you will return the sooner. Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. Why then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; answer not; The tide