father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be fo neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole; this fhoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, fir, this staff is my fifter; for, look you, she 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, fo, fo; now come I to my father; father, your bleffing! now fhould not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now fhould I kiss my father; well, he weeps on: now come I to my mother; o, that the fhoe 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 fhe 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 poft after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? away, ass; you will lofe the tide if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the tide were loft, for it is the unkindeft tide that ever any man ty'd.

Pant. What's the unkindeft tide?

Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here; Crab, my dog.

Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lofe the flood; and, in lofing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in lofing thy voyage, lose thy master; and, in lofing thy mafter, lofe thy fervice; and, in lofing thy service, why doft thou ftop my mouth ?

Laun. For fear thou fhould'ft lofe thy tongue.

Pant. Where should I lofe my tongue?

Laun. In thy tale.

Pant. In my tail?

Laun. Lofe the flood, and the voyage, and the mafter, and the fervice, 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 fighs.

X 2

Pant.

Pant. Come, come away, man; I was fent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.

Pant. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

Sil.

SCENE IV.

Changes to Milan.

Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.

Thu. 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 in your air.

Val.

Val. You have faid, fir.

Thu. Ay, fir, and done too, for this time.

Val. I know it well, fir; 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, fervant?

Val. Yourself, fweet lady, for you gave the fire: fir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyfhip's looks, and spends, what he borrows, kindly in your company.

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I fhall 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.

SCENE V.

Enter the Duke.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard befet. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health:

What fay you to a letter from your friends

Of much good news?

Val. My lord, I will be thankful

To any meffenger from thence.

Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your countryman?

Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy eftimation,

And not without defert fo well reputed.

Duke. Hath he not a fon?

Val. Ay, my good lord, a fon that well deferves The honour and regard of fuch a father.

Duke. You know him well?

Val. I know him as myfelf; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and fpent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant,

Omit

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. Befhrew me, fir, but if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an emprefs' 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 wish'd a thing, it had been he.
Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth:
Silvia, I fpeak to you; and you, fir Thurio;
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it:
I'll fend him hither to you presently.

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 fhe hath enfranchis'd them Upon fome other pawn for fealty.

[Exit Duke.

Val. Nay, fure, I think, fhe holds them pris'ners still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and being blind, How could he fee his way to feek out you?

Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To fee fuch lovers, Thurio, as yourself: Upon a homely object love can wink.

SCENE

SCENE VI.

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: fweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-fervant to your ladyfhip.

Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Pro. Not fo, fweet lady; but too mean a fervant
To have a look of fuch a worthy mistress.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability:
Sweet lady, entertain him for your fervant.
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 fo 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;

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

SCENE VII.

[Exe. Sil. and Thu.

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.