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Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.


Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for.

Pro. Go; I come, I come :Alas ! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb, 196



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 very fault: I have receiv'd my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Protheus 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 howl. ing, 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 pebblestone, 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 ;--10, 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, is 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-oh, the dog is me, 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;oh, that she could speak now like a wood woman! well, I kiss her ;-why there 'tis; here's my mother's breath

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.



Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.

Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost; for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.

Pan. What's the unkindest tide?
Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog.

Pan. Tut, mran, 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 ser-
vice-Why dost thou stop my mouth?

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

Laun. Lose the tide, 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.

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

Laun. Sir, call me what thou dar'st.
Pan. Wilt thou go?
Laun. Well, I will go.




Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter



Sil. Servant
Val. Mistress ?
Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.
Velo 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.
Thu. How ?

Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio ? do you change colour ?

281 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.

291 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.

299 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 the Duke..

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

310 To any happy 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 son ?

Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well?

320 Val. I knew him, as myself; for, from our infancy


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