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Sil. I thank you, gentle fervant: 'tis very clerkly done.

Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off ;
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully.

Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains ?

Val. No, madam, so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much:

And yet

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Sil. A pretty period ! well, I guess the sequel ; And yet I will not name it:

and yet I care not ; And yet take this again ;---and yet I thank you; Meaning henceforth

to trouble you no more. Speed. And yet you will; and yet, another yet.

[Afide. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?

Sil. Yes, yes ! the lines are very quaintly writ;
But since unwillingly, take them again ;
Nay, take them.

Val. Madam, they are for you.

Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, Sir, at my request;
But I will none of them; they are for you:
I would have had them writ more movingly.

Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.

Sil. And when it's writ, for my fake read it over : And if it please you, fo: if not, why, fo.

Val. If it please me, madam, what then?

Sil. Why if it please you, take it for And so good-morrow, servant.

[Exit. Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a

steeple ! My master fues to her; and the hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my master, being the scribe, to himself should write the letter?

your labour :

Val. How now, Sir, what are you s reasoning with yourself?

Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; '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 made you write to

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 deliver'd, and there an end.

Val. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well : For often you have writ to ber; and se in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; Or fearing else some messenger, that might ber mind dif

cover, Herself bath taught ber love bimself 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 din'd.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, Sir: tho' the cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourish'd

reasoning with yourself?] That is, discourfing, talking. An Italianism. JOHNSON.


by my victuals, and would fain have meat: Oh be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt.

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Enter Protheus 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 fooner : 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;
And when that hour o'er-Nips me in the day,
Wherein. I sigh not, Julia, for thy fake;
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 :

[Exit Julia.
Julia, farewell. -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. i
Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for.

Pro. Go; I come, I come :-
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers'dumb. (Exeunt.

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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 fourest 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 worfer fole: 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, 2 I am the dog :-oh, the dog is me,

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I am the dog, &c.] A similar thought occurs in a play of elder date than this. See A Chriftian turn’d Turk, 1612.

you shall stand for the lady, you for her dog, and “ I the page; you and the dog looking one upon “ another : the page presents himself.” Steevens.

I am the dog, &c.] This pasiage is much confused, and of confution the prelent reading makes no end. Sir T. Hanmer reads, I am the dog, no, the dog is himself and I am me, the dog is the dog, and I am myself. This certainly is more reasonable, but I know not how much reason the author intended to bestow on Launce's foliloquy. JOHNSON. Vol. I.



and I am myself; ay, so, fo. 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!-3 like a wood' woman! well, I kiss her ;-why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down : now come I to my fifter: mark the noan she makes : now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but fee how I lay the dust with my tears.

Enter Pan bino. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is Thipp’d, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? why weep'ít thou, man? Away, ass; you

will lose the tide if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were loft; 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, 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 should ft lose thy tongue.
Pan. Where should I lose my tongue ?
Laun. In thy tale.
Pan. In thy tail ?
Laun. 4 Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the


like a wood woman!-] The forft folios agree in would-woman; for which, because it was a mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted ould woman. But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood woman, i. e. Crazy, frantic with grief; or distracted, from any other cause. The word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and sometimes writ wood, fometimes wode. THEOBALD.

* Lose the tide, -] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read the flood. STEVENS,


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