Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. Pant. What's the unkindest tide? Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog. Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service, Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service? The tide! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pant. Wilt thou go? Laun. Well, I will go. SCENE IV. [Exeunt. Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, SYLVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Sil. Servant Val. Mistress. Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad.6 Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that Val. Haply, I do. you are not? Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. 6 Serious. Thu. What seem I that I am not? Thu. What instance of the contrary? Thu. And how quote 7 you my folly? Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam, he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant? Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire; sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, and, I think no other treasure to give your followers: for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father. Enter DUKE. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset, 7 Note, observe. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country man? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a son? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well de serves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time, To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; He is as worthy for an empress' love, Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Silvia, I speak to you; and you, sir Thurio: Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty. Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Enter PROTeus. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the seech you, Mistress, I be Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. 8 Incite. Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. Pro. No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Go with me:- - Once more, new servant, welcome: When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. [Exeunt SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. Val. And how do yours? Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady? and how thrives your love? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now : I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; Nor to his service, no such joy on earth! |