Pro. Why, then we'll make exchange: here, take

you this.

Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.' Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming: answer not. The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears; That tide will stay me longer than I should.

Julia, farewell.

[Exit JULIA. What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

Enter PANTHINO.

Pant. Sir Proteus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go; I come, I come: —

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. A Street.

Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.

Laun. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping all the kind of the Launces have this

1 The ceremonial of betrothing, for which a ritual was formerly provided, is thus set down by the Priest in Twelfth Night, Act v. sc. 1:

"A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of
your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,

Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony."

Such a contract" was held sacred by the Church.

H.

2

very fault. I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting: why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: This shoe is my father;-no, this left shoe is my 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 sole: This shoe, with the hole in it, my mother; and this my father. A vengeance on't! there 'tis : now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I am the dog; —no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog;-O! the dog is me, and I am myself: Ay, so, so.3 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 she could speak now like a wood woman!)^

is

;

2 This shows that in the Poet's time each foot had its several shoe; which fashion, once laid aside, has grown into general use again within our recollection.

H.

3 Launce here gets entangled with his own ingenuity, and the Poet probably did not mean to extricate him. Of course commentators have taken care to see him well out of his perplexity.

H.

4 The original here reads, like a would-woman; an evident corruption, which Pope altered to old woman, and Theobald to wood woman, the latter of which has been adopted by most editors

- 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 PANTHINO.

Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man ? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pan. What's the unkindest tide?

Laun. Why, he that's tied here; Crab, my dog. Pan. 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 shouldst lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose my tongue ?

Laun. In thy tale.

Pan. In thy tail?

Laun. Lose the tied, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tide!

Why, man,

since; wood being the old word for frantic or mad: so that the speaker means that his mother was frantic with grief at parting with so hopeful a son. The original copy is without the parenthesis; nor will there appear much need of it, if we but bear in mind that Launce has reference to the shoe which he has made representative of his mother and perhaps the sense would be clearer, if we read, "O, that the shoe could speak now," &c. H. 5 The first, tied, evidently refers to the dog; the last, tide, to the river this is plain from what follows, "Why, man, if the river were dry," &c. In the original tied and tide are both spelt the same way; which renders the quibble more obvious. H.

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.

Pan. Come, come; away, man: I was sent to call thee.

Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest.

Pan. Wilt thou go?

Laun. Well, I will go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Milan. A Room in the DUKE's Palace.

Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, 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 knock'd him.

Sil. Servant, you are sad.1

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.

3 To quote is to mark, to observe. It was formerly pronounced and sometimes written coate, from the French: hence the quibble here upon the words quote and coat.

H.

Val. I coat it in your jerkin.

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.*

Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Thu. How?

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.

4 This is much the same as saying, in the wardrobe dialect of our day, My coat is a vest. The jerkin, or jacket, was generally worn over the doublet; but sometimes the latter was worn alone, and so confounded with the former. Sometimes both had sleeves, sometimes neither, and in the latter case sleeves were separate articles of dress.

H.