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Verona. 169 Sil. And when it's writ, for my fake read it over ; And if it please you, so; if not, why so.
Val. If it please me, Madam, what then ?
Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour ; And so good morrow, servant.
[Exit, Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invis-ible, As à nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a
steeple! My master sues to her, and she 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 himselfshould write
the letter ? Val. How now, Sir? what are you reasoning with
? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming ; 'tis you that have the reason.
Val. To do what?
Speed. What need she,
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.
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 modefty, “ Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply ;
" Or fearing elfe some messenger, that might her mind
66 discover, « Her self hath taught her love himself to write unto
a 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 by my victuals; and would fain have meat: oh, be not like your mistress ; be moved, be moved.
[Exeunt. SCENE changes to Julia's house at Verona.
Enter Protheus and Julia. Pro. AVE 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 fake.
[Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here, tako
Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my truc constancy; And when that hour o'erslips 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 ride of tears; Tbat tide will stay me longer, than I should : (Exit Julia. Yulia, farewel. — 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 Panchion. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. (Exeunt.
SCENE changes to a Street,
Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. Laun.
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 sowreft-natur'd dog that lives : my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howlling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur fhed one tear! he is a stone, a very pebble-ftone, and has no more picy 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 ac 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 can not be so neither ; yes, it is fo, 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 'cis : now, Sir, this staff is my sister; 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 the dog: oh, the dog is me, and I am my self; 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 (9) like a wood woman! well,
(9). Like an ould Woman! ] Thefe mere poetical Editors can do No. thing towards an Emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to their hands. The first Folio's agree in would-woman ; for which, because it was a Mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly fubftitated ould Woman. But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood Woman, i, e. crazy, frantick with Grief; or, diftracted, from any other Cause. The Word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and fometimes writ, wood; fomotimes, wode.
- why doft
I kiss her; why, there 'tis ? here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my fister; mark the moan The 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 post after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'st thou, man? away, ass, you will lose the tide if you carry any longer.
Laun. It is no matter if the tyd were lost, for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd.
Pant. What's the unkindest ride?
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the food; 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, thou stop my mouth?
Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue.
What should he study, or make himself wood ?
They told ev'ry Man that he was wode,
He was aghaflé fo of Noë's flode. In his Miller's Tale. And he likewise uses Wodeness, for Madness. Vid. Spelman's Saxon Glofary in the Word Wod. As to the Reading in the old Editions, Would-woman, perhaps, this may be a design's Corruption, to make Launce purposely blunder in the Word; as he a little before very humourously calls the Prodigal Son, the Prodigious Son. - -I ought to take notice, that my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton sent me up this fame Emendation, unknowing that I had already corrected the Place.
I had like to have forgot, that Wood is a Term likewise used by our own Poet. Midsummer- Night's Dream, Act 2.
And bere am I, and wood within this Wood. Which Mr. Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, wild, raving. And, again, Shakespeare, in one of his Poems, has this Line: Then to the Woods fark wood in Rage fhe byes ber.
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
Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
S CE NE changes to Milan.
An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of Cameleon,