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O excellent device! was there ever heard a better?
write the letter? Val. How now, Sir? what are you reafoning with
yourself? Speed. Nay, I was rhiming; 'tis you that have the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokes-man 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 the, When the hath made
write to yourself : Why, do you not perceive the jeft?
Val. No, believe me.
Speed. No believing you, indeed, Sir: but did you perceive her earneft?
Val. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Val. I would it were no worse.
'tis “ For often have you writ to her, and the in modesty, “ Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; " Or fearing elfe fome messenger, that might her mind
“ discover, " Herself hach taught her love himself to write unto
« her lover." All this I speak in print; for in print I found it.-Why muse you, Sir ? 'tis dinner time.
Pal. 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.
SCENE changes to Julia's House at Verona.
Enter Protheus and Julia. Pro. H A
A VE patience, gentle Julia.
Julia. I must, where is no remedy.
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, take
Jul. And feal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy;
tide will stay me longer, than I should : (Exit Julia. Julia, farewel.
without a word ? Ay, so true love should do ; it cannot speak; For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.
Enter Panthion. Pan. Sir Protheus, you are stay'd for.
Pro. Go; I come. Alas! this parting ítrikes 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 received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the fowrest-natur'd dog that lives : my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl
ling, 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-Itone, 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 New you the manner of it: this Thoe 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 fo; 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 fister; 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 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 (9) like a wood woman! well, I kiss
(9) Like an ould woman!) These mere poetical Editors can do nothing towards an emendation, even when 'tis chalk'd out to their hands. The first folios agree in would woman; for which, because it was a mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted oul!
But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood woman, i.e. crazy, frantick with grief; or, distracted, from any other cause. The word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and sometimes writ, wood; sometimes, wode.
What should he study, or make himself wood ? In his character of the Monk.
They told ev'ry man that he was wode,
He was aghafte so of Noe's flode. Io his Miller's Tale. And he likewise uses wodeness, for madness. Vide Spelman's Saxon Glosary 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 humorously calls the prodigal fon, the prodigious fon.
I ought to take notice, that my ingenious friend Mr. Warburton fent me up this fame emendation, unknowing that I had already corrected the place. VOL. I.
her; why, there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down : now come I to my fifter; 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 fhipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars: what's the matter? why weep'it 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.
Pant. What's the unkindest tide ?
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou't lose the flood; and in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and in lofing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in losing thy master, loré thy service; and in losing thy service, --- why doft thou stop my mouth?
Laun. For fear thou should'ft lose thy tongue.
Laun. Lose the flood, and the voyage, and the mafter, and the service, and the side ? 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.
I had like to have forgot, that rood is a term likewise used by our own Poeti Midsummer Night's Dream, A&. 2.
And here am I, and wood within this wond. Which Mr. Pope has there rightly expounded, by mad, uild, raving, And again, Sbakespeare, in one of his poems, las this line;
Then to the woods stark wood in rage the hies her,
SCENE changes to Milan.
Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.
Val. Mistrefs ?
you are not?
Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in
air. Val. You have said, Sir. bu. Ay; Sir, and done too, for this time. Val.Jknow it well, Sir; you always end, ere you begin.
Sil. A fine volley of words, gentleinen, and quickly Thot off.
Val. 'Tis, indeed, madam; we thank the giver.