PROTEUS.
But dost thou hear? Gav’st thou my letter to Julia?
SPEED.
Ay, sir. I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour.
PROTEUS.
Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
SPEED.
If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.
PROTEUS.
Nay, in that you are astray; ’twere best pound you.
SPEED.
Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter.
PROTEUS.
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.
PROTEUS.
But what said she?
SPEED.
[Nods his head.] Ay.