Val. To do what? Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure. Val. What figure ? say. Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest ? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you indeed, sir: but did you perceive her earnest ? Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.1 Val. I would it were no worse. Speed. I 'll warrant you, 'tis as well: For often have you writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.All this I speak in print ; 2 for in print I found it, 1 There is the conclusion of the matter. 2 With exactness. Why muse you, sir ? 'tis dinner-time. Val. I have dined. Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir : though the cameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved.) [Exeunt. SCENE II. Verona. A room in Julia's house. Enter PROTEUS and JULIA. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner : Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. [giving a ring. 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; · Have compassion on me, though your mistress has none on you. That tide will stay me longer than I should : [Exit Julia. Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Enter PANTHINO. Pro. Go; I come, I come :- [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A street. Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog. Launce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping ; all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received 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-natured 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 cruelhearted 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, 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,—0, 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, (0, that she could speak now !) like a wood 1 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 PANTHINO. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weepest thou, man ? Away, ass ; you 'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer. Launce. 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 ? 1 Wild, distracted. Launce. Why, he that 's ty'd 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? Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. Launce. 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. Pan. Come, come, away, man ; I was sent to call thee. Launce. Sir, call me what thou darest. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Milan. A room in the Duke's palace. |