William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...). William Shakespeare

I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore I am no sheep.

      Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep.

      Speed. Such another proof will make me cry “baa.”

      Pro. But dost thou hear? gav’st thou my letter to Julia?

      Speed. Ay, sir; I (a lost mutton) gave your letter to her (a lac’d mutton), and she (a lac’d mutton) gave me (a lost mutton) nothing for my labor.

      Pro. Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.

      Speed. If the ground be overcharg’d, you were best stick her.

      Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; ’twere best pound you.

      Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.

      Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound—a pinfold.

       Speed.

      From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,

      ’Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

      Pro. But what said she?

       [Speed nods, and Proteus looks at him questioningly.]

      Speed. Ay.

      Pro. Nod-ay—why, that’s ‘noddy.’

      Speed. You mistook, sir: I say, she did nod; and you ask me if she did nod, and I say, “Ay.”

      Pro. And that set together is ‘noddy.’

      Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.

      Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.

      Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.

      Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me?

      Speed. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly, having nothing but the word ‘noddy’ for my pains.

      Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.

      Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

      Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said she?

      Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once deliver’d.

      Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?

      Speed. Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her.

      Pro. Why? couldst thou perceive so much from her?

      Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she’s as hard as steel.

      Pro. What said she? nothing?

      Speed. No, not so much as “Take this for thy pains.” To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have [testern’d] me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I’ll commend you to my master.

       Pro.

      Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wrack,

      Which cannot perish having thee aboard,

      Being destin’d to a drier death on shore.

       [Exit Speed.]

      I must go send some better messenger:

      I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,

      Receiving them from such a worthless post.

       Exit

       ¶

Scene II

       Enter Julia and Lucetta.

       Jul.

      But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,

      Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?

       Luc.

      Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.

       Jul.

      Of all the fair resort of gentlemen

      That every day with parle encounter me,

      In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

       Luc.

      Please you repeat their names, I’ll show my mind

      According to my shallow simple skill.

       Jul.

      What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?

       Luc.

      As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;

      But were I you, he never should be mine.

       Jul.

      What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio?

       Luc.

      Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.

       Jul.

      What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus?

       Luc.

      Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!

       Jul.

      How now? what means this passion at his name?

       Luc.

      Pardon, dear madam, ’tis a passing shame

      That I (unworthy body as I am)

      Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

       Jul.

      Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?

       Luc.

      Then thus: of many good I think him best.

       Jul.

      Your reason?

       Luc.

      I have no other but a woman’s reason:

      I think him so, because I think him so.

       Jul.

      And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?

       Luc.

      Ay—if you thought your love not cast away.

       Jul.

      Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov’d me.

       Luc.

      Yet he, of all the rest, I think best loves ye.

       Jul.

      His little speaking shows his love but small.

       Luc.

      Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.

       Jul.

      They