VALENTINE.
Ay, boy, it’s for love.
SPEED.
Not of you.
VALENTINE.
Of my mistress, then.
SPEED.
’Twere good you knocked him.
SILVIA.
Servant, you are sad.
VALENTINE.
Indeed, madam, I seem so.
THURIO.
Seem you that you are not?
VALENTINE.
Haply I do.
THURIO.
So do counterfeits.
VALENTINE.
So do you.