Imatges de pÓgina

Crab my dog be the sourest-natured 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 15 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 worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; A vengeance on 't! there 't is 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,-O, the dog is me, and I am myself; 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, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood a woman;—well, I kiss her;-why, there 't is; here's my mother's breath up and down; now come I to my sister; mark the 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.


PAN. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter?, why weep'st thou, man? Away, ass; you'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer.

LAUN. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever man tied.

PAN. What's the unkindest tide?

LAUN. 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?

LAUN. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.

PAN. Where should I lose my tongue?

LAUN. In thy tale.

PAN. In thy tail?

LAUN. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the 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.

Wood-mad, wild.

This quibble, according to Steevens, is found in Lyly's 'Endymion,' 1591.

* We give the punctuation of the original edition. Malone prints the passage thus:—

"Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service: and the tide!"

Steevens omits the and, completing the sentence at "service;" and adding "The tide!" as inter

PAN. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.

LAUN. Sir, call me what thou darest.

PAN. Wilt thou go?

LAUN. Well, I will go.

SCENE IV.-Milan. A Room in the Duke's Palace.


SIL. Servant!


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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 volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.

VAL. T is indeed, madam; we thank the giver.

jectional. Both editors appear to forget the quibble of Launce on his tied dog; to which quibble, it appears to us, he returns in this passage. In the first instance he says, "It is no matter if the tied were lost;"-he now says, "Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied." In the original there is no difference in the orthography of the two words.

Quote-to mark.

b Quote was pronounced cote, from the old French coter. Hence the quibble, I coat it in your jerkin,-your short-coat, or jacket.

SIL. Who is that, servant?

VAL. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire:

Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks,

And spends what he borrows, kindly in your company.

THU. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall 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 a.

SIL. No more,

Gentlemen, no more; here comes my father.

Enter DUKE.

DUKE. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health:
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news?


My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence.

DUKE. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?

VAL. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman

To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.

DUKE. Hath he not a son?

VAL. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.

DUKE. You know him well?

VAL. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy
We have convers'd, and spent our hours together:
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,
Yet hath sir Proteus, for that 's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

We have again a metrical arrangement in the original of this and the preceding speech of Valentine, which scarcely looks like accident. (See p. 18.) It is not, however, the versification of Shakspere's early plays; but, if not meant for verse, it is a measured prose, full of a spirited, harmonious movement.

Feature (form or fashion) was applied to the body as well as the face. Thus, in Gower,

DUKE. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,

He is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a-while:
I think 't is no unwelcome news to you.

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VAL. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.
DUKE. Welcome him then according to his worth;
Silvia, I speak to you: and you, sir Thurio:-
For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it:
I will send him hither to you presently.
VAL. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship

Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
SIL. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them,
Upon some other pawn for fealty.

VAL. Nay, sure I think she holds them prisoners still.
SIL. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you?

VAL. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
THU. They say that love hath not an eye at all—
VAL. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;
Upon a homely object love can wink.


SIL. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.
VAL. Welcome, dear Proteus !-Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

SIL. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.
VAL. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
SIL. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
PRO. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

VAL. Leave off discourse of disability:

Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. PRO. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.

"Like to a woman in semblance

Of feature and of countenance."

And later, in 'All Ovid's Elegies, by C. M.' (Christopher Marlowe)— "I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature,

I loath her manners, love her body's feature."


[Exit DUKE.

SIL. And duty never yet did want his meed;

Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. PRO. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.

SIL. That you are welcome?


No; that you are worthless.

THU. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
SIL. I wait upon his pleasure. Come, sir Thurio,

Go with me:-Once more, new servant, welcome:
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;

When you have done, we look to hear from you.
PRO. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.


VAL. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came?
PRO. Your friends are well, and have them much commended.
VAL. And how do yours?

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VAL. How does your lady? and how thrives your love?

PRO. My tales of love were wont to weary you;

I know you joy not in a love-discourse.

VAL. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now;

I have done penance for contemning love;

Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,

Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,

And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.

O, gentle Proteus, love 's a mighty lord;

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction",

Nor to his service no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of love;

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

PRO. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the idol that you worship so?

VAL. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
PRO. No; but she is an earthly paragon.

In the original this line is given to Thurio; and we are not sure that Theobald's change, of bringing a servant on to deliver the message, is right. We may imagine Thurio fidgeting during the dialogue between Silvia, Proteus, and Valentine; and then hastily coming forward to interrupt it with a real or pretended message. It is characteristic that he should wish to break off this talk in which he is neglected. He may be supposed to step to the door, and receive a message. We restore the original reading.


There is no woe compared to his correction. The idiom was not uncommon.

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