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 your And fo good morrow, fervant. Speed. O jeft unfeen, infcrutable, invif-ible, labour ; [Exit, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! My mafter fues to her, and fhe hath taught her fuitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor : O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? That my mafter, being the scribe, to himself fhould write the letter? Val. How now, Sir? what are you reasoning with your felf? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a fpokes-man from Madam Silvia, Speed. To your felf; why, the wooes you by a figure. Speed. By a letter, I fhould fay. Val. Why, the hath not writ to me? Speed. What need fhe, When the hath made you write to your felf? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you, indeed, Sir: but did perceive her earnest? Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. you Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath the deliver'd, and there's an end. Val. I would it were no worse. Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: "For often have you writ, to her, and the in modefty, "Or elfe for want of idle time, could not again reply; " Or "Or fearing elfe fome meffenger, that might her mind ❝ discover, "Her felf hath taught her love himself to write unto ❝her lover. All this I fpeak in print; for in print I found it.—— Why mufe 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. HAVE patience, gentle Julia. Jul. I muft, where is no remedy. Pro. When poffibly I can, I will return. Jul. If you turn not, you will return the fooner : Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's fake. [Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kifs. Pro. Here is my hand for my true conftancy; And when that hour o'crflips me in the day, Wherein I figh not, Julia, for thy fake; The next enfuing hour fome foul mischance Torment me, for my love's forgetfulness! My father stays my coming; anfwer not: The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of tears; That tide will ftay me longer, than I should: [Exit Julia. Julia, farewel. What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love fhould do; it cannot speak ; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Enter Panthion. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are ftaid for. Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting ftrikes poor lovers dumb. [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE changes to a Street. Enter Launce, with his dog Crab. 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 fon, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the fowreft-natur'd dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my fifter crying, our maid howlling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our houfe in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur fhed one tear! he is a ftone, a very pebble-ftone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a few would have wept, to have feen 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 fhoe is my father; no, this left fhoe is my father; no, no, this left fhoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole; this fhoe, with the hole in it, is my mo ther, and this my father; a vengeance on't, there 'tis : now, Sir, this staff is my fifter; for, look you, fhe is as white as a lilly, and as fmall 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 felf; ay, fo, fo; now come I to my father; father, your bleffing; now fhould not the fhoe fpeak a word for weeping; now fhould I kifs my father; well, he weeps on; now come I to my mother; oh that the could fpeak now (9) like a wood woman! well, ell, (9) Like an ould Woman!] Thefe mere poetical Editors can do Nothing towards an Emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to their hands. The firft Folio's agree in would-woman; for which, because it was a Mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly fubftituted ould Woman. But it must be writ, or at leaft understood, wood Woman, i. e. crazy, frantick with Grief; or, diftracted, from any other Caufe. The Word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and fometimes writ, wood; fome times, wede. What I kifs her; why, there 'tis? here's my mother's breath up and down: now come I to my fifter; mark the moan fhe makes: now the dog all this while fheds not a tear, nor speaks a word; but fee, how I lay the dust with my tears. Enter Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy mafter is fhipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'ft thou, man? away, ass, you will lofe the tide if you tarry any longer. Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were loft, for it is the unkindeft ty'd 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, lofe thy mafter; and in lofing thy mafter, lofe thy fervice; and in lofing thy fervice,. thou ftop my mouth? why doft Laun. For fear thou fhould'ft lofe thy tongue. Laun. In thy tale. Pant. In thy tail? Laun. Lofe the flood, and the voyage, and the What should be ftudy, or make himself wood? In his Character of the Monk, They told ev'ry Man that he was wode, He was aghaflé fo of Noe's flode. In his Miller's Tale. And he likewife ufes Wodeness, for Madness. Vid. Spelman's Saxon Glossary in the Word Wod. As to the Reading in the old Editions, Would-woman, perhaps, this may be a defign'd 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. Midfummer-Night's Dream, A&t 2. And here 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 ftark wood in Rage fhe byes her. mafter, master, 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. 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. SCENE changes to Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. Sil. Servant? Mistress? Val. Speed. Mafter, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knockt him. Val. Indeed, madam, I feem fo. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What feem I, that I am not? Thu. And how quote you my folly? Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. ? Val. Well then, I'll double your folly. I Sil. What angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of Cameleon. Thu |