Pant. In my tail ?

father ; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser fole; this shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on’t! there 'tis : now, sir, this staff is my líster; for, look you, The is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand; this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himself, and I am me: ay,

the dog is the dog, and I am myself; ay, so, so; now come I to my father; father, your blessing! now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on: now come I to my mother; o, that the shoe could speak now like an ould woman! well, I kiss her; why, there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but see, how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipp’d, and thou art to post after with oars : what's the matter ? why weep’ft thou, man? away, ass; you will lose the tide if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the unkindest tide 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, — why dost thou stop my mouth?

Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
Pant. Where should I lose my tongue ?
Laun. In thy tale.

Laun. Lose the food, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and 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.

X 2

Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'ft.
Pant. Wilt thou go?
Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Milan.
Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.
Sil. YERVANT.

Val. Mistress.
Speed. Mafter, fir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.
Dal. Of my mistress then.

.
Speed. 'Twere good you knock’d him.
Sil. Servant, you are sad.
Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not?
Val. Haply I do.
Thu. So do counterfeits.
Val. So do you.
Thu. What seem I that I am not?
Val. Wise.
Thu. What instance of the contrary?
Val. Your folly.
Thu. And how quote you my folly?
Val. I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.
Val. Well then, I'll double your folly.
Tb. How?
Sil. What, angry, fir 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

Val.

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 Ihot off.
Val. 'Tis, indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, servant?

Val. Yourself, sweet lady, for you gave the fire: fir 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, fir; 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.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health :
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news ?

Val. My lord, I will be thankful
To any messenger from thence.
Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your countryman?

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 fon?
Val

. Ay, my good lord, a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well ?

Val. I know 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;
Yet hath fir Protheus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days ;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow)
He is compleat in feature and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor :
Well, fir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a while.
I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

Val. Should I have wilh'd a thing, it had been he.

Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth :
Silvia, I speak to you; and you, fir Thurio;
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:
I'll send him hither to you presently.

[Exit Duke.
Val. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her chrystal looks.

Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis’d them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Val. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them pris’ners still

. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you?

Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all.

Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself:
Upon a homely object love can wink.

SCENE

Enter Protheus.
Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.

Val. Welcome, dear Protheus ! mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm this welcome with some special favour.

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.

Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.

Pro. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Val. Leave off discourse of disability: Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.

Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed:
Servant, you're welcome to a worthless mistress.

Pro. I'll die on him that says so but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome?
Pro. That you are worthless.

Enter Servant.
Ser. Madam, my

lord
your

father would speak with you.
Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. Come, fir Thurio,
Go with me. Once more, my new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs;

have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.

[Exe. Sil. and Thu. SCENE VII. 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.

When

you