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. 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; Duke. Befhrew me, fir, but if he make this good, As meet to be an emperor's counsellor : Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. Val. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship 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. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. That you are worthless. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. When you have done, we look to hear from you. SCENE VII. [Exe. Sil. and Thu. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? Pro. |