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. S C ENE II. Changes to Julia's Houfe at Verona. 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. ful. And feal the bargain with a holy kiss. ג [Exit Julia. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are ftaid for. Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [Exeunt. VOL. I. SCENE 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 howling, 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-stone, 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 • fhow 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 fo neither; yes, it is fo, it is fo; it hath the worfer fole; this fhoe, ❝ with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my fa• ther; a vengeance on't, there 'tis: now, Sir, this ftaff 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 fhe could fpeak now like a wode woman! 1 Oh that she could speak now like an OULD Woman.] The first Folios read WOULD. It should be wODE; mad, crazy, frantick with grief. ❝ well, ́well, I kiss 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 fpeaks a word, but fee, how I lay the duft with my tears. Enter Panthion. Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy mafter is shipp'd, and thou art to poft after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'ft thou, man? away, afs, 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 unkindest 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, lofe thy voyage; and in lofing thy voyage, lofe thy mafter; and in lofing thy mafter, lofe thy fervice; and in lofing thy fervice, doft thou stop my mouth? Laun. For fear thou fhould'st lofe thy tongue. Laun. In thy tale. Pant. In thy tail? why Laun. Lofe the flood, 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_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. 0 2 SCENE S CENE IV. Sil. Changes to Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. SErvant, Val. Miftrefs? Speed. Mafter, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. 'Twere good, you knockt him. Sil. Servant, you are fad. Val. Indeed, madam, I feem fo. Val. Haply, I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Thu. What inftance of the contrary? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly? Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well then, I'll double your folly. Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio? do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of Cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, Sir. Thu. Ay, Sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, Sir; you always end, ere you begin. Sil. A fine volly of words, gentlemen, and quickly fhot off. Val. 'Tis, indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, fervant? Val. Your felf, fweet lady, for you gave the fire; Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyfhip's looks, and spends, what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I fhall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, Sir; you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers for it appears, by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words, Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more: Here comes my father. SCENE V. Enter the Duke. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard befet. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What fay you to a letter from your friends Of much good news? Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy meffenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Anthonio, your countryman? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation; And, not without defert, fo well reputed. Duke. Hath he not a fon? Val. Ay, my good lord, a fon that well deferves The honour and regard of fuch a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy We have converft, and spent our hours together: 0 3 And |