That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter?

Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning 150 with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.

Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia.

Val. To whom?

Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a

figure.

Val. What figure?

Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Val. Why, she hath not writ to me?

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. Why, she hath given you a letter.

Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and
there an end.

Val. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well:

160

170

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, for in print I found it. Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time.

Val. I have dined.

Speed. Aye, but hearken, sir; though the chame

180

leon 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. Julia's house.

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.

Pro. When possibly I can, I will return.
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.

179. "for in print I found it." Probably these lines are quoted from some old ballad or play, though their source has not yet been found. One cannot help thinking that Shakespeare is quoting from some play of the Two Italian Gentlemen type; the reprinted extracts contain passages strongly reminding one of these lines.-I. G.

10

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

it.

Enter Panthino.

Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.

Pro. Go; I come, I come.

Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

20

[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 sourestnatured 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 10
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 either: yes, it is so, it is so, it 20 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; aye, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, our blessing: now should not the shoe speak a word 30 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! Well, kiss her, why, there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the

34. "a wood woman"; the Folios read "a would woman"; Theobald first changed "would” into “wood" (i. e. mad); others "an ould (i. e. old) woman."—I. G.

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, abroad! thy master 40 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 tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.

Pan. What's the unkindest tide?

Launce. 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?

Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy
tongue.

Pan. Where should I lose my tongue?
Launce. In thy tale.

Pan. In thy tail!

50

Launce. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the 60 master, and the service, and the tied! 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.