VALENTINE   I would it were no worse.

SPEED 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.

VALENTINE I have dined.

SPEED 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!

Exeunt             (2.1.138-149)

Valentine’s still baffled and gloomy; he doesn’t seem to believe Speed’s explanation of what’s happened: I would it were no worse. I wish! I’ll warrant you, ’tis as well: it’s all for the best, believe me! For often have you writ to her—all those letters you’ve sent her! and she’s always made excuses, prevaricated: she in modesty or else for want of idle time could not again reply. It wouldn’t be decorous for her to write back—or she was too busy! Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover—if she entrusted a letter to a go-between, they might make it public, let everyone know about her feelings!—so she’s been clever: herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. So she came up with this cunning plan, getting you to write a love letter as if from her, to you! Genius! Speed’s couplets, in fourteeners rather than iambic pentameter, really labour the point: SURELY Valentine will twig? After all, he should be pleased! All this I speak in print—like a cheap ballad, perhaps, and also entirely accurately, for in print I found it, as plain as anything. Such a cliché! Why muse you, sir? What are you dreaming about now? (Has the penny finally dropped? Has Valentine finally copped on?) No time for that—’tis dinner time! I have dined, says Valentine, dreamily—either he actually has had his dinner, or else this realisation that Silvia apparently Feels The Same Way is sustenance enough, and he’s lost in reverie. No food needed! Lovers don’t need to eat, they have hopes and dreams! All very well for you to say, retorts Speed, ay, but hearken, sir, listen to me. (One imagines him clicking his fingers in Valentine’s face: snap out of it!) Though the chameleon love can feed on the air—chameleons were believed not to need to eat but rather to live simply by breathing—I am one that is nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. I need my food! Right now! HUNGRY! O, be not like your mistress—be moved, be moved! Silvia has apparently been unmoved by Valentine in their last encounter—but Valentine needs to listen, and to get a move on so that Speed can get his dinner.

And perhaps, as the scene ends, Valentine is, incredulously, starting to believe that Silvia might love him back…