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 deformed.
VALENTINE.
How long hath she been deformed?
SPEED.
Ever since you loved her.
VALENTINE.
I have loved 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 ungartered!